What He Does to Me (V.2)

Chapter 4

I swallow the last bite of my breakfast and set my dish aside. 

Finally, a moment to catch my breath.

I slouch down in my seat. When I take a moment to rest, I start to realize that sometimes, actions have consequences.

Action: I dragged myself across the floor of this room.

Consequence: My body is starting to ache like all hell.

I groan. Not only did I fail to reach the bathroom properly, I'm also being punished for my failure, for daring to try something new. Where's the justice in that?

I can get all indignant about my current state of affairs later. Instead, I should focus on this sudden wave of sleepiness that's just hit me out of absolutely nowhere.

To nobody's surprise, I'm tired again. I wish my body wouldn't overreact to things. Honestly, there's nothing dramatic about trying to walk. Other people do it all the time.

I slowly slide down onto my pillow and wiggle into place under my sheets. Is that undignified? Yes. Is it also very easy to do? Also yes. 

I'll save my dignity for when it really matters. I can afford to look like a worm burrowing through dirt every once in a while.

I soon feel the last bit of my energy leave my body, and my muscles relax under the weight of the sheets. I let out an audible groan, as a dull, familiar ache begins to throb in my bones.

It's hard not to regret trying new things when you feel the way I do afterwards, but I remain firm in the face of pain. I'm happy I did it. I haven't left my bed by myself for as long as I can remember, and the joy of independence threatens to outweigh my despair, for once.

It's just a shame that I'm so limited in what I can do. I didn't do much, and its already too much for me. It hasn't even been that long since I woke up, I think. I won't be able to tell for sure until Iris gets me that clock, though.

Without warning, I begin to feel my eyelids slowly lowering over my eyes. That's it for now, I suppose. It doesn't matter whether I want to rest or not, because my body will take that rest for me. It's funny how everything around me is much more decisive than I am, including my own flesh. I ought to learn from myself.

Sometime in-between the hours I've taken to nap, someone leaves a bit of food for me. It's not much, since I was likely asleep when they brought it, but it is still more to eat.

I don't even bother opening my eyes. To me, it feels like I just finished breakfast. 

It makes me feel ungrateful, but I'm not going to eat. I can't. I don't have the energy, nor the appetite. 

I guess the food is meant to supply me with more energy, but I can't eat it because it takes energy to eat. Energy that I don't have, of course, because the food is meant to supply me with that.

What a silly little paradox. I should name it after myself, just for fun. The Sionn paradox. If for nothing else, people could remember me after I'm dead for that. Wouldn't that be nice?

I tell myself that I'll just eat after I wake up. Whenever that may be.

My eyelids grow heavy once more, and I feel myself drifting back into the realm of the sleeping. What bliss...

My travels along the rivers of the pretend-dead are abruptly halted by a knock on the door. 

I squint at the door, my eyes bleary with sleep. I wonder who it is?

I pull myself back into a seated position with a yawn.

It's not Iris, because she wouldn't knock. It's probably a servant, here to clear my dishes. I glance at them with a frown. A part of me considers attempting to down everything as soon as possible, just so I don't waste any food. The more rational part of me chastizes that thought. Not only is it impossible, but I'd probably make myself puke by trying. That would truly be a waste of food, not to mention another sudden shock to my already tired body.