Pain Killer

21 ~ Good Day

The thought never occurred to me that I would be commuting two hours by bus to school every day if I were to stay with David and Caroline. That was the first thing I realized as my eyes opened to my bedroom ceiling at 5:30 sharp. The next thought was a little paralyzing as I remembered that I never apologized to Martha.

I arrived back at Martha's at maybe twelve in the morning. We were quiet as she hugged me gently and wordlessly. None of the lights were on, she was still in her day clothes. I tossed my bags in my room and said a pathetic thank-you before I closed the door of my room and crawled into my bed, too tired to cry. And too exhausted to sleep. My thoughts were chasing each other's tails, twirling and swirling around like a dust devil.

I clench my fists as I lay still in the cold, dark room. It's all silent around me.

I hate waking up early in the morning. The only reason I would be awake earlier than seven is if something is wrong. Right now, it's a migraine. The probable cause was the rollercoaster of a day I experienced yesterday. Two earth-shifting happenings, my leaving Martha's, and then finding out that I was guiltily replaced in my real family.

My head throbs, making my stomach turn. Moving is a bad idea but if I want it to stop, I'll have to leave my room for ibuprofen.

But is it worth the dizzying pain? I fight with my logic. Nothing makes sense this early in the morning. The sun hasn't even decided to appear, why should I?

So I stay as still as I can, clenching my eyes shut and counting my breaths. I know it's bad when the room starts to pulse with pressure. Now I'm truly stuck. The head-splitting throb is all I feel as every thought seeps out of my control. I'm left imagining Uri smiling at me. As tears streak down the sides of my face, I picture him holding my hand; the only sane thing in my crazy, mixed-up world. When we went to that church, when I sat still and just existed, when nothing outside of those four walls could touch me. When I discovered true peace.

My head feels as if it will crack. I hold my breath in silent agony, wishing with my everything that it would just go away. Wasn't yesterday painful enough? Wasn't that enough of a bad day, to make up for all of the good days I got to have with Uri? Why does this happen to me? I must deserve it, for being a bad person to Martha, for not being grateful to my parents for keeping me alive. Or maybe it's for being jealous of an innocent adopted baby.

I hate this.

I hate this.

I hate this so much, it makes it all the worse.

Or maybe it's me that I hate.

The room begins to spin and I pray that I'll just disappear or stop existing altogether.

Within the tornado of my head, I hear Martha's voice, loud and piercing. But I don't comprehend her words.

She must've realized by the tears on my face, that it's a migraine. Within twenty seconds, an orange bottle is brought into my vision, my prescription meds. A glass of water is held out to me.

I slowly sit up, resisting my nauseous reaction, and swallow the big, white pill with one sip.

Martha saved me. Again.

...

My head eventually clears and I find the strength to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea. A blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I watch the rain pour on the streets of town.

Martha gets ready for work as she puts away the last of the dishes.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I was being a real idiot yesterday, I didn't mean to assume everything without talking to you, first." Those words just scrape the surface of what I wish I could say. But I don't think there are words that can encompass the guilt and overwhelming gratefulness colliding with each other in me.