Coincidences

Act LXXII

I caught a cold. That was to be expected, anyways. I didn't dry myself immediately, and now I'm sneezing nonstop. Dad checked my temperature, and, guessing that he saw it was probably high, I told me to stay in bed since yesterday afternoon. Around me, there were a bunch of tissues, used plates, and empty bags of chips. I couldn't clean the mess up, since I felt too dizzy and sick.

Since I was too dizzy and sick, I couldn't even bother using the phone. I tried to, but I got myself a tremendous headache that I had to sleep away. If I wanted something, I had to shout it out with my remaining strength, and that's if Dad's available.

For most of the day, I was left alone, since there wasn't really anyone able to take care of me. This empty presence in the house haunted me. I wanted to be where there were people around. Here, there weren't, and it's getting on my nerves.

This reminds me of the time I tried to befriend Zoey. I was really insistent; it's funny and embarrassing at the same time. That was the first thing I did, when I first moved here. I wonder why.

That's right. I was lonely.

That was when Mom's death was still fresh in our minds, the time when I had to leave my only friends behind. That was the time when... I was desperate for a companion, a good friend.

And now, that good friend, Zoey, is fading away.

I blew my nose, the snot dripping endlessly from my nostrils. I disposed the tissue afterwards. Then, I helped myself with a new box of Kleenex.

The phone rang from the edge of the bed. I took it, inspected the caller, and declined it. It's been ringing a lot of times now, same person, too. I can't shut down my phone, either. If Dad calls me, how would I be able to answer him? What's more intriguing is the caller itself.

Rocky Rimson.

I didn't want to talk someone the same likes as him. I was already feeling queasy enough to put attention to the least of my problems. Talk about the worst of all of them.

Him calling repeatedly isn't all that new. He used to do that back then. If I picked it up and replied, he wouldn't cease on cursing me, badmouthing me, threatening me, verbally abusing me. I don't think this time would be any different.

I pressed my face on the pillow and groaned. Another headache throbbed furiously. I have to sleep this one, too. I attempted to doze off, but then, the phone rang again. Give me a break.

I didn't answer the call; instead, I typed him a text message and threw the phone as far as the edge of the bed. Then, I eventually succeeded on catching forty winks.