Drunk Beginnings (Rick and Morty Fanfiction)

Chapter 7

Author's Note  

       Thank you guys so much for getting me over a hundred reads already! I know it's not much now but to me it's monumental. FLUFFY LEMONS FLUFFY LEMONS UP AHEAD   

       Enjoy~ 

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      I didn't get any sleep at all last night whatsoever. Either the black screen from the hologram would play the message's audio in my head, or more exaggerated grotesque images from the carnival weaved in and out of my brain. If I tried to sleep, the sleep paralysis would get me; holding me captive in its bony fingers and finally letting me free after what felt like hours. Every thump was a monster, ready to suck my blood, every knock on the bedroom window was Anthony trying to rescue me. I couldn't get up and walk around the house, my awkwardness would never allow it, so I had to stay in my little coffin with Summer. I tried my best to curl my fingers and not scream when the nightmares got terrifying, just to not wake her. I think I did a good job. 

      The message word for word would play in my head, every glitch or audio error recorded into my brain. I had Rick play it three more times after the original. He got impatient but he did it for me. Then I turned on the garage lights to see the light particles fading into the luminescence until it disappeared. That man killed my father. My mother. Anthony. My town. My life. And he hasn't even begun his tirade over my life. But surprisingly, no tears came. Just the icy grip of not being able to fall asleep holding me tightly, constricting my lungs and keeping me captive. 

      Finally, after my horror addled night show, I just put the comforter on my mattress over my eyes and stayed perfectly still in a single position until Summer left for school. My injured arm didn't like that very much in the way I so eloquently positioned myself. I bit my lip and waited for it to be over, my arm pinching between the bed and my body. The minutes seemed to be longer than they were last night.  

     Summer got dressed then left the room to go downstairs. As soon as she closed the door, I immediately swung my arm away from me, stinging but instant relief. I held the bandage. This scar on my arm will not only be a scar on my body but in my life in general. Whoever that person is, they were gonna pay. I am going to hunt them down and do unspeakable things. My mind thought up the most agonizing, slow, torturous things to do to the killer. I had to stop myself soon before it became too disgusting and unrealistic. 

     I sat up in my mattress, basking in the sunlight. It felt great on my face, the sun not too hot. I felt like a cat curling up in a patch of nice sun. I played with the light filtering in through the window, my fingers lacing the rays in and out of them. The warm glow caught the dust motes that floated through out Summer's room. It was very calming after the night I had. 

    I got up from the mattress and stretched everything I could until my injuries prevented it. I walked by to the door, but I stopped to look myself in Summer's floor length mirror. It's been a while since I've seen my reflection. I had no idea my clothes were ripped. I had a long thin cut on my shirt on my left side, and my pant leg was ripped mid-calf length down. I recently took a shower, so my skin was at least clean, but that made all of my bruises look washed out and purple. I looked like I just narrowly escaped a bar fight. 

     My hair was in disarray from bed head, so I took one of Summer's combs from her vanity and brushed my hair, the bristles smoothing out my conditioned scalp. There. That's a bit better. I styled it the way I liked it as best I could.

      I set the brush back down, but I heard something. I put my ear down to the floor. As best as I could hear, it sounded like Beth and Jerry were arguing about something downstairs. It sounded pretty heated. Ugh, come on. That's the last thing I want to hear. I have enough demons screaming at me as it is, now I have to hear this in real life?  I waited in the room, moving around some of Summer's objects and making my bed out of habit. There were some books on her shelves, but they weren't my type of genre. This was gonna be long. Again.