The Cicada

My Worst Enemy Gets Bitches (I'm Devastated)

I shiver, bracing myself against the kitchen counter. I hold my head, trying to blink away the migraine that suddenly has my head aching and throbbing in pain. I look at Tord, my vision blurring. "...Tord I don't--I don't feel good..."

The last thing I remember is my vision growing black, and Tord's frantic voice growing softer and softer before I was out.

"Tom? Thomas?" I shook my head and blinked as Tord came into view. Tord placed the back of his hand against my forehead. "There we are. How're you doing?" He grabs a glass of some sort of liquid and presses it against my lips. "Drink, it'll help."

I shake my head, sitting up a little. I look down at my clothes. I'm wearing a black t-shirt that's just about my size. It has a picture of a guy in corpse paint? And some text that I can't be bothered to read. I pause for a moment, noticing a light blanket draped on me. I kick it away, laying back down with a groan. "Its hot..."

Tord sighs. "Yeah, I know. And don't mind the shirt, I cleaned you up while you were out."

"And- you took off my pants that's-"

"I know, I know. You were covered in blood and needed to be patched up. And you were making a mess on my floor."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Its my fault."

"Just shut up and drink this."

I cautiously take a sip, groaning as I swallow the bland liquid. Water. I move my head away, groaning. "Gross." I gag.

Tord huffs. "Its good for you. Its filtered."

I stick my tongue out at him. "Lies."

Tord rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna go get you some stuff."

I nod and watch him leave, sitting up a bit. He'd put me on the couch? In his living room I'd assume. The place was huge, unnaturally big. The entire house was just huge. Why would he need a space this big if it was just him- A soft thump pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked down on the floor, seeing a stuffed shark on the floor. I tilt my head, carefully picking it up. I recognized it immediately--an IKEA blåhaj--yet a much smaller version.

"They sell smaller sharks?"

"I have that one an' the big one." A small voice said.

I turned to the voice, seeing a small girl crouched at the bottom of the stairs that led to the second floor. The girl shared Tord's same hair--down to the horns--yet had a fairer complexion, and her eyes were more hazel then grey. (Still grey though.)

Tom looked closely at her, smiling a little. "Hi there. What's your name? Tord's your dad, huh?" I pause. Tord fucks???? He actually pulls??? He's got game???? Is it bad that I suddenly feel a bit self conscious about myself?

"Maisie." She says quietly. She looks at me, head tilted with confusion. "Turd?"

I snicker. "Tord," I gesture to the kitchen where Tord left too. "Is he your pappa?"

The girl, Maisie nods excitedly. "Pappa! Og du er vennen hans? Bestevenner!"

I draw a blank, staring at her blankly. "...Right. Uh...Shouldn't- shouldn't you be in bed?"

Maisie holds a finger to her lips and quietly shushes me. She looks towards the kitchen before she stands up and makes her way up the stairs, gesturing for me to follow.

Now who, in their right mind, would follow their old enemies kid upstairs somewhere? There could be bodyguards or something! Tord has those right?