To Feel Your Feathers

Not Again

The sound of heavy machinery and construction pulled me from my slumber. I wouldn't have minded the sounds, if it weren't for the budding pain in my skull. There was something about it that told me this was only the beginning. I haven't been able to get a good night's sleep since the portal was running and this headache was most likely a side effect.

Despite my mind begging for more rest, I sat up and reached for my water. The gentle thud of something hitting the floor caused me to open my eyes after a few sips. I leaned over my bed and there it was. The same drawstring bag taunting me once again. Almost as if it was trying to get on my nerves. With a groan I hobbled out of bed, tossed the bag, threw on my disguise, and made my way to the kitchen for some coffee.

There was already a leftover pot from Stan earlier in the day. I lifted the remnants up to my nose and gave it a whiff. Ugh, black coffee. Although I admire Stan in his efforts of cutting off his drinking and smoking habit while housing the kids, I could never understand why he would want to switch to a more miserable way to intake coffee while working on the portal. I dumped the remains of the wretched drink down the drain and started up a fresh pot.

Despite the sounds of construction outside, it was a rather peaceful morning. From the window, I could see Stan stressing one of the workers out as they tried to lower the totem pole back into place. The coffee maker gurgled and beeped from behind me, signifying that my bean juice was ready. I poured myself a mug with some creamer and milk before returning to my observations of the outdoors.

My eye traced over the damage in the parking lot. Party supplies remaining from the re-opening were littered all over the place. Broken planks and plywood were scattered everywhere, leaving a splintery mess in their wake. That goes without even mentioning the large crack in the parking lot from where the zombies crawled out.

The sight of the displaced ground ripped a shudder out of me. Worry took over my form as I started to stress about the possibility of seeing the lab below from the lot. My thoughts were brought to a halt as the headache from earlier once again made itself known. My vision grew foggy and I started to sweat. It felt as if a rabid beast had made itself a home in my skull and was taking out the news of the divorce on its surroundings. I shut my eye in agony, gripping onto the table to keep myself upright. No sounds came out as I managed to pull myself a chair to relax.

After the pain mitigated, I rummaged around for the first aid kit beneath the sink. Popping two pain killers and washing it down with coffee. The pain still swelled in my skull, but it became much more manageable as I remained kneeling on the floor. I slowly rose from my position, immediately regretting it as the pain crashed into me like a semi-truck. I cried out as I scrambled to sit down on the chair again, folding my arms and resting my head on the table. Time itself slowed as it dragged out the next few minutes to bring the biggest onslaught of agony directly onto my skull.

I was breathing heavily, shaking as I lifted my head. I slowly opened my eye for it to still remain clouded.. Or at least for one of them to be. I couldn't believe the sight before me. My left eye played out the blurry view of the kitchen and construction work from the window. My right eye.. I could see...? My right eye saw the kitchen in the darkness of the night, the only light coming from a small crack in the fridge. I closed my left eye, rising to my feet and taking in the view.

It was snowing outside, but the wind's tapping on the glass told me that the weather was bound to get worse. Silverware was scattered all over the counter tops, one of the forks dripped with a crimson liquid. Stanford' coat was draped over one of the chairs, but upon bringing a claw towards the garment, a steady drip of red liquid stained its beige coloring. What? I looked up at the ceiling. For once the wooden beams above me didn't share a hint of water damage, let alone any leakage. I gazed back down at the ground beneath me. The source of the liquid became clear. My eye was bleeding.