In the Wrong Space and Time

IX

Media: Rough approximation of Caroline giving the presentation.

- - -

I CAN SAY WITH ABSOLUTE certainty, that watching the clock is the most boring way to deal with the inability to sleep.

Due to my anxiety for the talk today and how I had left things with Tyra, I had been tossing and turning all night, and eventually got bored of that. Then, I tried listening to Tyra's snoring to lull me to sleep, which proved unsuccessful. Finally, at around 3 in the morning, I turned over on my belly and I just stared at the seconds on the digital clock, waiting for them to turn into minutes, then hours. I waited for this dull activity to bore me to sleep, but my attempts were all futile.

At 6 A.M., I finally get sick of waiting and creep out of the covers, trying not to wake Tyra. However, the brunette grunts in her sleep and turns over the moment I set foot onto ground.

Watching her warily for a few seconds, I muffle my movements even more to avoid any sort of pre-dawn confrontation. Making my way stealthily to my wardrobe, I open the doors silently and draw out a freshly-pressed black blazer. I pair that with my usual black slacks and a white button-up.

I take another towel from the stash and proceed to take a shower.

The water seems even icier today, as if to signal that I'm getting ready for an important event. (Especially one that I am not mentally prepared for.)

I pour the shampoo into my palm and use it to start massaging my scalp harshly, as if to drown out the numerous neurotic thoughts swimming about within.

Stop thinking you're going to mess up. If you keep thinking that way, you probably will, I consciously reassure myself. It does not work in the way that I had hoped it to, but at least it gives me a sense of false cheerfulness to cling on to.

Field Marshal Primero did give you permission to take photographs of some selected weapons, didn't he? And he told you that it would only be a matter of time until the students join the army, so there wouldn't be much censorship needed. So it's not like you don't have content to talk about, I try reasoning with myself.

Oddly enough, what really comforts me is the towel wrapping around my body as I dry off. It's like a nice fluffy hug, I realise and hold the towel to myself for a little while longer.

With something akin to a culmination of dread and slight determination to face the day, I pull on my shirt and button it up, leaving only the top button undone.

Pulling up my slacks, I loop the jacket over my forearm and bunch the towel up in my hands. Walking out of the bathroom, I drop my clothes off at the dry cleaners, and go back to the dormitory to grab my messenger bag.

As I open the unlocked door, grey eyes meet brown ones as I come face to face with Tyra.

Tyra's eyes first blaze with hurt betrayal, and then she narrows them, face contorted in a dark scowl as she pushes past me to exit the dormitory.

"Wait, Tyra -" I protest, only to be met with the slamming of the door. My heart seizes up at this curt refusal. I have grown accustomed to her after the realisation that the Tyra in this universe is not the petty, passive-aggressive gossipmonger she was in my universe, and this outright show of animosity brings back the memory of my rival impulsively slapping me in the face.

I bite my bottom lip harshly, almost drawing blood to the surface, and let the stabbing pain pull me back into focus.

I slide the blazer over me, my nettled nerves calming slightly as the heavy black fabric encapsulates my shoulders and arms. Grabbing my well-used satchel, I ascertain the positions and security of my computer and the memory stick I saved my slides on. Slotting my feet into a pair of black heels, I set off more confidently to Brunel University, my mind grimly focused on the task ahead.