Some Day

4: Mr. Zhao's Stick

Chapter Four

When I wake up Saturday morning, I feel exhausted.

I didn't drink anything last night, yet it's almost like I'm hungover. My head is aching, the sun is way too bright, and my stomach hurts.

I groan as I sit up, rubbing my eyes as I adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the window. Tiredly, I stand up and stretch out my arms over my head, sighing. It's only when I walk into my bathroom and see myself in the mirror that I remember I'm still wearing James' hoodie.

Not only that, but I'm also wearing my uncomfortable skinny jeans that I wore to the party last night. Quickly, I strip off the jeans, freeing my legs from their constraint. Sleeping in jeans is a terrible experience and I do not suggest it.

With one last glance in the mirror I close the bathroom door before turning the water on in the shower.

The warm water helps wake me up a little more, and my head feels better. When the bandages are wet enough, I peel them off of my wrists and stomach with little pain, and turn away from the water as it stings.

I look at the rope burn on my wrists, noticing that the parts of my skin that were cut by the ropes are now fully closed and scarring. As memories of being tied up with my mother come flooding back to me, I push them back, not wanting to think about it.

That night played on repeat in my head for the entire week after it all happened, and I thought of little else. I'm finally just now able to suppress it, but the painful memories are all there on the surface.

Quickly, I finish washing myself before getting out of the shower.

I walk into my room with a towel, and then put new bandages on before changing into some clothes.

Feeling hungry, I leave my room and go downstairs, entering the living room where Matt is playing Call of Duty.

"Hey," I greet as I walk past.

"Morning," he replies, his eyes trained on the screen. "Even though it's noon."

My eyes widen. "It's noon already?"

"Fuck!" He yells at the TV, and his hands start working the controller even harder.

I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen, my stomach grumbling. Opening the pantry, I grab out a loaf a bread and put two slices into the toaster. Matt continues to curse while playing his game, but he finally seems to stop just as my bread finishes in the toaster.

"How was the party?" He asks, walking into the kitchen.

"Okay," I tell him, spreading peanut butter onto my pieces of toast.

"No problems?" He questions, sitting down on one of the stools in front of the island counter.

"No, actually," I reply. "I felt...normal."

"That's weird, because you're the least normal person I know," he jokes, causing me to glare at him.

"And I thought you were actually being nice for once," I note, sitting down across from him.

"I'm just kidding," he says. "And I'm happy for you. You deserve a normal life."

"I don't think my life is ever going to be a normal," I state, sighing.

"It could someday be," he tells me. "They think you're dead, Rose. They're not looking for you. So it's not like you have to be completely hidden away forever."

"Just slightly hidden," I correct him.

"I mean, obviously you can't go on TV and stuff like that," he says. "But otherwise you're okay."