Bridge Jumper Comes Back To Life For Help: The Century Curse

016

The moving picture on the television lit up the room in short bursts with the scene transitions of the movie. The entertainment systems audio worked, but Ian couldn't hear it after turning it down as the night proceeded. Soft snores came from the warm head laying against his chest. Ian wasn't watching the movie, he didn't even remember the title. But, it put his sister to sleep, and since he needed time to think, that's all that mattered.

A half hour passed since she'd dozed off, and he started to draw the confidence to move her off of him. He'd adjusted several times in that half hour, but after a few groans and wiggles, he figured it best to wait a little longer. Finally, it's time. He latched his hand onto one of her shoulders, and started to push it gently until her head rose from its resting place. More groans and deep breaths followed, but her restlessness ended up assisting him. Citrus's body moved to the other side of the couch, her head now resting on the cushion.

Standing up from the spot his butt imprinted, he let out a sigh cracking his back. Turning, he looked over his sister who made his bowels quiver just a few hours prior. Ian wasn't sure how or why, but he didn't know how such a soft inspiring face, contorted in such a manner. He grabbed the blanket draped across the back of the couch, and gracefully flapped it over his sister's body.

Ian was happy that his sister would finally get some sleep. But one question still needed to be answered before he himself turned in for the night. Where was he going to sleep tonight?

Turning, his eyes met the rising footholds that seemed intimidating to ascend while groggy, but sleeping on the floor seemed out of the question with three perfectly good beds upstairs. Meandering over, he latched onto the banister, and dragged himself up the carpeted steps.

Though the light from the TV downstairs illuminated his way, when he turned onto the landing, his eyes had to adjust. "Hello darkness, my old friend," he muttered to himself, reaching the top of the stairs. Ian thought to flip on the light switch next to him, brightening the hall, but he didn't want to risk a migraine from the sudden brightness. He ignored the attic door on his left and looked into the bedroom Diana slept in after her escapade of straddling him on the shower base. But after the intense day, he wasn't sure Citrus finding him sleeping in Diana's used sheets was such a smart play.

Then he looked to his right, the closed door blocking his view into the room. Ian tiptoed over, latched onto the handle and nudged it open. He couldn't recall the last time he'd cracked this specific door open, and for good reason. Peering into the darkness, he could distinguish a few unopened cardboard boxes, and a bed frame in pieces. No box spring, but a mattress, leaned up against the far wall, and he wasn't sure how much noise he'd make moving the pieces and laying it down.

"Right, she was missing the screws for the frame." The room was creepy anyway, so he shrugged it off and shut the door. However, settling on this decision left him with only one option. Citrus would probably be elated if she knew what he contemplated because he hadn't done it since the two of them were kids. He sauntered over to the last door that wasn't the closet, attic or bathroom, and jiggled the handle. Staring in, the room seemed neglected. Either his sister hadn't used it much, or used it all the time and never cleaned it.

Countless t-shirts, shorts, and even panties scattered the floor. They both did the laundry in the house, so he was confused as to why she'd never brought them down to be washed. But Citrus always assured him all her clothes were in the hamper, and now that he thought about it, he never really set out to prove her claims as fact. However, he was sure that he washed tons of her garments, and the room didn't have a particular rank smell to it. The only logical conclusion he could come to was that they're all clean and she just tossed them about.

He picked up a shirt strung across the bottom shelf of a bookcase bringing it to his nose, confirming his guess.

Clean.

Approaching the bed, he saw the fitted sheet was off the mattress in one corner, while the weighted blanket was crumpled up on the opposite side. The exhaustion was a relentless mistress. His motivation to fix the sheet no longer existed, so he flopped onto the bed. His head flung against the memory foam pillow, and sunk in quite comfortably. The room bathed him in complete darkness. Even so, he tried his best to make out the ceiling while he waited to fall unconscious.

"This was an insane day," he said, speaking to himself as if talking to a friend. "I doze off with a beautiful girl, and then wake up to getting arrested for murder... That same girl gets her head blown off in front of me... Oh shit!"

He hadn't thought about it since the incident with Citrus, but it was still an unanswered question. Citrus never told him about why Diana didn't heal, or why she was in the station in the first place. He was so caught up in calming his sister down, he didn't want to bring it back up. But now he was going to be stuck in this bed thinking about it the rest of the night.

"Or am I?" Ian said, answering his thoughts aloud as his eyes became unbearably heavy. His mind was beginning to fade, the fatigue hitting him like a freight truck. As his eyes blinked open and shut, a sudden creaking floorboard caught his attention.

"Ian... I feel like after today, you owe me something. Wouldn't you agree?" A low shaky female voice approached him from the hallway. He found the voice familiar, and there was only one person it could be, but he didn't want to believe it. Still, the light steps inched ever closer to the side of the bed.

"Hmm?" With his throat dry, the low tone was all he could manage. Ian had forgotten to quench his thirst before dozing off. Then, the bed shifted, the weight of someone else now sat on it beside him.

"You put me through hell today, Ian. All because of that girl. But... I'm not worried anymore. You reassured me. But... you still broke me a little bit. My heart aches even at this very moment. So what else am I supposed to do, except demand a debt from you."

"—" He parted his lips, but no sound came out. It felt as if he were on a beach, and the wind had filled his mouth with sand. Then suddenly, he felt an arm lay across his chest, the fingers latching on to the left side of his rib cage.

"You owe me this, plus interest. You won't know when your debt is paid off, but I'm okay with that. Maybe I'll just keep your debt going indefinitely. I guess that makes you mine... forever." As the person's sentence finished, he could feel the grip on his ribs tighten. But it wasn't a comforting clench. The grip started growing in strength every second restricting his organs.

Ian tried to move his arms, but for some reason, he'd lost control of his body. But he needed to confirm what person was causing this physical harm. The moment he got his eyes to inch open, a weight on the bed shifted, and introduced the sunken skeletal face with a bullet hole shattered through it.

Diana.

He jumped up from Citrus's bed, the sun shining through the blinds into the room. Swiveling his head, he looked all around the surface of the sheets, but there was no one else. Just an empty bed, with the corner of the fitted sheet pulled up.