Shiftless

Chapter 2

Chelsea sat up in her bed with a loud gasp, her damp curls brushing lightly against her cheeks. Her eyes cast about the darkened room frantically while her brain attempted to piece together where she was. It took her a few seconds to orientate herself.

Shouldn't have looked, a sleepy, retreating voice in her head seemed to sing-song to her, almost in a whisper.

She was panting, she noticed. Rapid shallow breaths. Not good, must fix

After tightly closing her eyes and then slowly opening them a couple of times, she focused her attention on taking slow, deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. Her heart wasn't exactly cooperating with her plan, and was still beating frantically in her chest.

Just focus on breathing, girl. Slow, deep breaths. In through nose, out through mouth, like that guy said in that movie that one time. Your heart will eventually follow the example your lungs are setting for it. You'll calm down, and everything will be fine.

Well, no... that wasn't true. Nothing would ever be fine again.

She turned her head and checked the green digits on her brightly glowing alarm clock on her bedside table. Two-oh-seven in the morning. Fantastic.

After a minute or so of practicing her slow breathing, she realized that her nightshirt was once again moist with perspiration, as were her loose tangles of hair. It was beginning to seem kind of pointless to shower every night before bed, given how frequently she'd been having the night terrors as of late. Nights where she wasn't jolted awake in the wee hours of the morning drenched in sweat were becoming few and far between.

Had she screamed this time, or cried out, or otherwise violated the sacred rule of 'thou shalt not wake up Granny'? It didn't feel like she'd used her voice recently, but how her throat felt upon waking was never a very accurate indicator, really. Nor was whether or not Granny actually came to her bedroom to check on her. Sometimes she would sleep through these little 'events' of Chelsea's, or at least pretend to, which was usually for the best given the sort of depressing 'do you realize what time it is?' tone she would use when dutifully checking in on her.

And this would make it the fourth night in a row something like this had happened. She didn't even want to think about how tight-lipped and cranky Granny would be if she was forced to drag her fat ass out of bed and 'console' Chelsea tonight.

Chelsea went still and listened carefully for any sort of indication that Granny was awake. After a few seconds of perfect silence, she heard a voice speaking in conversational tones. It sounded as though it was coming from the whereabouts of the kitchen.

"The beast stirs," she whispered to herself, and then immediately she chided herself for the unkind thought.

That sort of mean-spirited thinking wasn't fair, not even a little bit. Objectively speaking, Granny had been pretty good about this whole situation, really. Still, though the two of them had never discussed how this bizarre living arrangement had come about, Chelsea maintained the impression that Granny believed this whole thing to be her fault . . . like she was to blame for showing up here like some baby in a basinet left on the old woman's doorstep.

Likely that was the source of their standoffishness - why the two of them never seemed to get along. Chelsea knew this situation wasn't her fault, and she refused to be bullied into thinking otherwise, simple as that. Whenever Granny started bitching or moaning about her sudden and unexpected responsibilities since Chelsea's arrival, or the lack of proper peace and quiet around her house as of late, Chelsea would fire back with a pointed barb about her sudden and unexpected lack of parents. That sort of statement was usually enough to ensure at least ten minutes of complete silence around the house.