Crazy is the Name of My Game

(23) Head in the Game

Leonn Adams

Three days.

I was awake for three whole days, not a minute able to rest my ache-riddled head. My eyes felt as dry as raisins, my throat felt like the Sahara desert, not to mention that the fog in my head was akin to that of early London's low visibility smog.

I was a walking disaster.

The entire time Jason avoided me. He never even allowed me see as much as his shadow, let alone hear his footsteps or his voice. After he stormed off days ago, I expected him to return so that we could make amends. He didn't. And it wasn't surprising. If we two had one thing in common, it would have to be our pride.

Pride that I knew would sooner or later be the end of us.

Ever since we fought, I never took a single step out of Erica's room. I stayed here like it's my personal prison. My food was brought on a scheduled basis together with a change of clothes. The maids would ask whether there are other things I want. I was thankful for the treatment; it was a generous act, but the thing was, Jason never reappeared in front of me. I needed him more than a clean shirt. More than fresh orange juice. I needed an ally. I needed someone to kick me back to reality when I'm being a jerk.

I needed my best friend.

My guess was that he attended school, but gut instinct told me he had never left the premise of his mansion. He was probably idling around for lack of better to do. Anywhere but here in this room. I couldn't blame him. For a friend, I've been an ass. A complete ass. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't dare leave Erica's side...

It's been more than 72 hours for her, but she still hadn't regained consciousness.

I didn't know what to do. Tempting, I wanted to try Jason's suggestion. Maybe water would do the trick, wake her back to her senses and things would fall into their respective places. But what if it didn't work and she got soaked? What if because of that stupid suggestion she catches a cold? What if water acted as a catalyst to whatever bound her and she never woke up?

My life was balancing precariously on the tip of a pin. One more push – even a gentle push – would bring me to insanity.

"What did you do now, Len?"

I quickly looked over my shoulder, only to find a redhead in blue winter uniform. Her large brown eyes scrutinized me patiently, her arms wrapped around her in a protective manner as she leaned against the door frame.

Marianne.

"What are you doing here?" I asked with a hoarse voice. I winced as it made the pounding in my head slightly worse.

She casually walked to the end of the king-sized mattress and sighed. Her voice was as sweet and smooth as ever. "Well, believe it or not, Jason called me to come. I thought it was the end of the world."

I raised a questioning brow. Jase and Marianne had issues with each other. Although not entirely antagonistic, they tended to get under each other's skin in more occasions than one; Jase, being my best friend despite him having no recollections of our past and Marianne, the woman who used to be my closest acquaintance in our former lives.

"Where is he?" I inquired as I squeezed Erica's cold hand. I was sitting on the stool beside her bed, a worn out copy of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment in front of me.

"I have no idea. He didn't even welcome me when I came. Stupid host." Her face did a very uncharacteristic, unlady-like twist. "And did I mention you look like hell?"

"No, but thank you," I said wearily. I never understood Marianne. Sometimes, she's so classy and soft-spoken one would thought she was hauled straight from a Jane Austen novel. There were times though where she was practically a modern day bitch.