Please don't eat me

Please Help Me

  "Hey, what's wrong?" Cynthia asked as she parked the car.

  "Huh?" I looked at her.

  "You've been acting weird since you got into the car." She looked at me. "Did something happen in Chakra?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing happened. I'm fine."

  "You're not a good liar, Conrad. What's wrong?"

  I just wanted to go inside, but Cynthia wouldn't stop hounding me until I satisfied her. But I just really wanted to be left alone. So, I looked at her and painted the best smile I could on my face. "I guess I'm a little tired. Don't worry, I'm fine."

  Before she could respond, I got out of the car and walked into the house. I first went into the kitchen to check on the drumstick and thigh pieces I had placed in the fridge in the morning. I had woken up early to massage the marinade into them so I could leave them to marinate throughout the day. I couldn't be bothered to wake up early for school, but I'd do it just to marinate some chicken. Great.

  After that, I headed for my room. I tossed my bag onto the floor and carefully extracted the card pieces, laying them all on my desk.

  First, I tried to recreate it into what it was before, like some disjointed puzzle. I struggled at first, and in the end, it wasn't a perfect recreation, but I had roughly figured out its general shape. I leaned back in my chair and looked at it with an overwhelming sense of defeat. But I shook that off me. Love binds. That was what he had told me. So, should I focus on what I love?

  I closed my eyes and hovered my hands just above the card. Thoughts of my friends, my parents, Angelica, and Cynthia, all passed through my mind. My breathing was controlled. I was calm. I could feel my Heart chakra pulsing gently in my chest. Yet nothing was happening. I opened my eyes and sighed out my frustrations as I glared at the card. 

  I was supposed to have the greatest affinity for my Heart chakra, wasn't I? Yet anytime I had used it in the past had been by complete accident. Now that I wanted to fix the card, nothing was happening. How had I done it before? I rested my head on my desk. I couldn't figure it out. I felt the card pieces against my forehead, the feelings of love clear as day in them, and my embarrassment grew. My teeth grit, my anger flared, and when I heard the soft sound of paper tearing, I pushed back, away from the card. I felt something on my forehead and peeled off one of the pieces, which had torn halfway through.

  I threw it in frustration and watched it flit onto the floor, not even bothering to pick it up as I stood up and started pacing back and forth. Thoughts buzzed around my head yet not a single one knew how to deal with this. I was absolutely stupid. I couldn't do this. I was going to die.

  This was stupid, everything about this was stupid.

  After an hour of failing, I went back downstairs and into the kitchen. I closed the door. Took in a deep breath. Slowly breath out. It was time to start cooking. 

  This was a Gordan Ramsay recipe I had learnt from the internet. I first started with the rice, pouring one and a half cups of water into a pot and set it on the stove. I measured a teaspoon of salt and sprinkled it into the water, switching the plate on and leaving the water to boil. Now, I turned my attention to the chicken.

  I slid a pan out of the cupboard and set it on another stove plate, adding a dash of oil before switching it on. I took the chicken out of the fridge and looked it all over, satisfied that the marinade had set well into it. When the oil had heated, I set the pieces on top the pan, listening to the satisfying sizzle. 

  The water was starting to boil, hot drops splashing inside the pot, and I decreased the heat, measuring a cup of rice before gently sliding it into the water. I gave it a few good stirs with a wooden spoon, just to keep it from clumping, and left it there to simmer.