Heterodox (BOOK 2)

Chapter 14

~Vesper~

There are pros and cons to being a genius.

Yeah, there is the obvious pro of being able to surpass others academically without real effort but at 11:59 P.M; there is only one con that exist, no sleep. My eyes are wide open in the dark, staring at he ceiling for what seems like an eternity.

So, Hi there Universe. Budding insomniac here. Tried all the remedies you suggested like counting sheep and drinking warm milk. I reached 175 already but my brain is not tired yet. At least I'm not hungry. I would have painted to pass the time but I'm not in the mood, ya know? Oh, and you know that myth about people who dream about me, keeping me awake? If it happens to be truthful, please kill the culprits in their sleep! It just might work.

Sighing, I rise of my back and crawl over to the foot of my bed where my calendar hangs above. The crosses over the dates this past week taunt me, showing me that I can't keep this trend to myself any longer. The pencil feels heavy as I mark off yesterday's date; considering that it should now be 12 A.M.

I could almost hear my brain sighing. ' Four f-ing days without sleep, Vesper. One more day and we'll be back to square one.'

I've been battling insomnia from young. I couldn't sleep unless my dad was by the foot of my bed. But then the accident happened and I found myself missing a day of sleep from time to time. It wasn't as serious so I just shrugged my shoulders at it and ignored it.

And then when the flashbacks restarted at the disaster of Mission Happy Child, my sleep pattern got more unsteady. Days would fly by without me even catching a wink. How I even fell asleep peacefully without nightmares the other day when I was ill evades me. Now with four days gone, I am starting to consider going back to my faithful psychologist, Dr Barfield. He helped me through last time. Maybe he can help me again?

I idly climb back to my pillow and sit cross-legged on my bed. The clock reads 12:03. It's about this time I would be dwelling in my head, sifting through thoughts, old memories...and the painful flashbacks that bring me to where I am now. I wonder about my mom. After bugging me about everything and sometimes delving into my life without permit, she suddenly lost interest in me that it looks suspicious. She's home less than ever. She barely talks to me at all now. And when she does I wish she was silent again because she honestly has nothing good to say anymore. She also drinks more and I'm wondering if she is on the verge of alcoholism.

What caused this? Could my grades be so bad to actually cause this? I shake my head at the stupid thought.

'Of course not!' my brain chides, "I know she's your mom but the world does not revolve around you!"

What could it be then? Could dad's absence finally be having an effect on her? After everything had sort of settled down, she was colder to me.She wasn't as caring as before but chose to focus on my academics. She saw me as perfect alright, a perfect brain young enough to influence and brilliant enough to probably someday rule the world. But I kinda smashed her hopes when I refused to participate in IQ testing game shows that caught her eye. I know now that ever since she discovered my brilliance she never really saw me as her daughter but a ticket to probable fame and fortune.

At least dad didn't.

Getting off my bed, I went in front of my dressing mirror and in the dim light coming from my white curtains, I looked at myself. The first thing that hit me was that I was slightly taller. Still shorter than my friends but at least an inch taller. I can't deny the little joy I felt for having one of my last growth spurts before full adulthood.

I eye my slightly bent shins with traces of hair but no longer with distaste.

I assess at my pear like body that displayed my bigger base and smaller bust, even my slight pudge.