Poison- H.S

eight

Songs of the chapter:

Staying Up – The Neighborhood

Brutal Hearts – Bedouin Soundclash

I read the text message again.

*Tomorrow. 10 PM. 1409 NE street.

This isn't real, I know it isn't, because if it is, then that means Regina is...

I push the thought out of my head and put my phone in my pocket. This is ridiculous. There is no way, there just isn't. Whoever has a mind sick enough to joke about this isn't someone who deserves my attention. I'll just block the number and move on from it. Quickly, I block the number and exit out of my messages.

Suddenly I don't want to stay up and watch a movie anymore, exhaustion has taken over and I just want to crawl into my bed right now.

I turn the television off and put the bowl of popcorn on the table. Before I go upstairs, I check the whole downstairs to make sure all the curtains are closed and doors and windows locked. Then I make my way upstairs.

When I enter my room, I realize how messy it is; clothes and trash littered all around the floor. I turn off the lights and then slip into my bed.

The smooth sheets are cold and it takes a while for my body to warm up the bed. Something seems different, I have no idea what it is, but something just feels very different. I don't even know how to describe it. Even if I had all the words in the world, I wouldn't be able to organize them into a coherent sentence to explain how I feel.

My room is cold, so I wrap my blanket tight around my body, bundling myself up like an infant. I wish I would have shut the curtains before getting into bed. I don't like looking up at the night sky, so dark and full of infinities and impossibilities.

Before I fall asleep, I feel it again, the strangeness inside of me. It's kind of warm, like the feeling of sun shining on your skin or the heat from a campfire.

Eventually my body begins to rest and my mind opens it door, leaving my subconscious to wander about.

Bacon. I smell bacon. The greasy, salty, and savory meat. The smell is so strong I can almost taste it. I can even sort of hear it sizzling in a pan.

I jump out of bed and change into a sweatshirt and some sweats. It is awfully cold this morning. As my feet hit the cold, wooden floor in the hallway, I get shivers. It almost feels like walking on ice.

"Dad? Is that bacon I smell?" He usually never makes bacon.

"Hunter? You're already up? Shocker," he says as I enter the kitchen.

"Well yeah! You're cooking bacon, I can smell that stuff from a mile away. How much longer till it's ready?" I ask, grabbing a plate from the cupboard.

"A few more minutes. Pancakes are keeping warm in the oven."

I open the oven and grab the plate of pancakes and eggs. I love it when he makes breakfast. The eggs are plainly seasoned so I add some ketchup to the top of them and dad makes a disgusted face.

"What? Eggs are only good with ketchup," I say as I squirt a little bit more ketchup on them.

"That is not normal, that's like putting juice on your pancakes." He flips a couple of strips of bacon over in the pan.