Knock, knock. My hand, tired and numb, descends upon Azure's bedroom door. It's the middle of the night, and everyone's asleep—swaddled in comforters that leave no room for air to escape, in their beds with a quiet conscience and a narrow expanse of thoughts tugging the strings of awakeness. They're snoring, some loud, others not, but they all share a common goal: rejuvenation.
But I couldn't be farther from that. Tonight I'm panicking, freaking out because of the 'what ifs.' I should be excited. I should be sleeping like a baby. I should be in bed with Zander, savoring the little things, like the security of being held by him, the essence of his presence. Instead, curled in moth-eaten blankets and misconception, my fear digs its roots in having a heartbeat when everything's said and done. How could someone be scared of living?
Seeing the expressions on my parent's faces when I show up at our doorstep, when I lift my shirt when they hug me—I won't be able to take it.
"Hello?" A voice calls to me from the frivolous darkness. It's sleepy; the words are lacking in depth and filled with a decrepit melancholy as if I've repeatedly poked an angel. "If... If it's not an emergency, can it wait?"
I pop the door open, standing there for her to see, in nothing more than a lumpy gamer shirt that dangles to my knees and a face ablush with tears. It's a face that wants to be loved, touched and remembered. Sadly, there isn't a single part about me worth remembering.
Is that why my first crush thought I was a new student when I finally met him?
"Azure?" I call under my breath, afraid of waking someone. "S-Sorry to wake you..." And I am. I wish I could sleep through the night, be a good girl for Minerva, be less of a nuisance, less baby-ish.
Feeling horrible, I try to take it back. "I'll go. Goodnight, sleep well." My feet swivel on their axis, and I turn away from her, from Azure, from the bright ray of sunshine that spoils me, from my friend.
A pillow hits my head, discombobulating my already mushy grey matter, "Oi, come 'er!" Her meaningless void of words has sprung to life. She's awaken.
"N-No, I woke you up," I steer clear of bending to her wishes. To become someone who sits idly by and agrees with everything a pretty neighbor says because I dream of growing up to be them. "Go to bed," I take a step, my back hitting the corner of the frame, "talk to you tomorrow."
"Girlie, you didn't wake me," she tosses another, and it rockets off my skull, "come or I'll cry."
A fleeting guilt fills my soul and pours its contents into my body like a pitcher of lemonade.
Bumbling like a lost puppy, I move to the side of her bed. She's sprawled out like a grumpy feline forced to stagger to their feet and eat. Azure takes action while I'm shuffling and flips on the overhead light, which comes as a depressed and plump circular bulb. A line of white clouds my vision, and I squeeze my eyes shut like someone awaiting a Christmas present.
"Sit, talk, pour out your heart to your good old therapist, Azure Brightwit." Her planet-shaped, sloped crystal eyes sparkle, and she takes my hand as if I'm a dazzling princess, leading me to sit—to create twin-sized butt imprints in her pure cotton mattress.
Her face, smooth, perfect, beautiful—makes my focus shift. She's a lunar eclipse, a rarity.
Why don't you become a model? I ponder breathlessly inside my mind. Her hand feels like a handful of Dove hand soap. Incredibly soft and spongey. "Can I ask you something?" I say, getting on my knees and closing the gap.
YOU ARE READING
Parasite
Fantasy"You're pregnant." Certainly not the words a lowly highschool girl wants to hear. But what can I do about it? Nothing, absolutely, positively nothing. How do I cope with being pregnant with a parasite? I contemplate ways to die. Hell, that's all I...
