With All My Senses

games in the dark

The phone rings. I hear its decibels breaking through the noise of running water. I sigh but quickly step out of the shower and wrap a towel over my body. I move fast, at the same time trying not to slip and fall on my face, water dripping from my wet hair. I shiver slightly and pick up the receiver. It's him.

He sounds worried.

How are you doing?

I'm... coping. No need to worry. It hasn't been that long.

I wrap the towel tighter and start to rub my other arm. So much for the positive effects of a hot shower. The old radiators weren't helping either. Well, that or the fact that I was running late with the last bill.

Yeah, that sounds like an invitation. I'm coming over.

You don't need to.

Already decided.

You sound like a broken record.

Blame the turntable that hears voices.

I frown at the comment. 

You're not as amusing as you might think.

Oh, I think I get by quite well, thank you.

I stare at the empty, gold frame where the glass used to be once, and wonder how bad the shape of my body was. The small mirror in the bathroom didn't really show the whole scale of the problem. I knew things were a bit better now, but I wasn't sure I was ready for the top to bottom, overall look.

Charlie, things are durable, and you have a lot of work. Don't waste time on me. When it will get really bad I will let you know or come over - or maybe not, Susan keeps sending me strange looks.

She sends everybody those looks until your dirty conscience floats to the surface and she can use it against you.

You're still not being funny, Mr. Evans.

Well, I'm still coming, and when I do, you are telling me your second name.

I hang up the phone and smile. I look at the half-empty pill bottle filled with painkillers and put it away. Good, I hated the way they made me feel. Less pain, the same volume. I head to my bedroom, put on some clothes and then dry my hair. It was a good thing the general electricity still worked. I finish drying my hair and notice that I resemble a poodle, locks moving in every direction. Hmm, a lion with deep issues. I gaze into the mirror and quickly brush out the mess, then tie my hair into a long braid. I stare at their color and pout. It was always a funny thing. Once they were almost completely black and other days like these, they were just dark brown.

I head to the living room and grab an over-sized black sweater from the sofa. Today was definitely not a t-shirt weather. I make myself some tea in the kitchen and sit on an old chair; patiently waiting for the right paracetamol bottle to come. The one that never had a side-effect, just a deep penetrating stare. I smile. Don't even go there, I think to myself while wrapping my fingers around a hot mug.

_ _ _ _

He's late.

She's sitting on the couch and drinking the last cold remainings in the cup. It's her second one, and there is a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She doesn't bother herself with turning on a small TV because usually the static just irritates her senses, sometimes even speeding up the whole process in her head. Not that she normally has the time for cheap entertainment, too busy raving in pain on a regular basis.