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Chapter 7
Asra
Groaning, I throw mypillow over my head. I barely got any sleep at all, all night. Well, all day. But it’s my night, so whatever.
“I swear, if I hear another hammer, or sawing, or whatever the hell he’s doing over there, I’m going to burn that damn house down.” With a nod at my positive mantra, I drag myself out of bed and stumble into the bathroom.
Clutching the vanity, I stare into the mirror. I look fine. At least, I think I look fine. I can’t really tell. Bright, gold stars flicker and sway in a zig-zagged streak down the left side of my vision. Like a sharp knife stabbed in my eye, my head throbs. I lean closer to the mirror and turn my head from side to side, trying to get a good view of the white part with what little field of vision I have. At least they’re not yellow today.
On the inside, though, that’s another story. Other than migraine central, my legs don’t want to work. Pain radiates up and down my thighs as though they’re swollen twice their normal size.
“Screw waiting,” I mutter, splashing a little cold water on my face, “I’ll just burn it anyways.” Principles and all that. I pop a few pain pills, then stumble out of the bathroom.I know I’m being over dramatic. A bitch is probably a better word to describe my current mood. Taking a deep breath, I sigh. A flare is coming. My sunny mood is just another sign, along with the stars still clouding my vision.
My stomach revolts at the idea of any food going near it, so I don’t even bother heading toward the kitchen. Using the wall as a brace, I limp and waver like a drunk idiot, bumping into everything on my way to my office.
“Yep, didn’t even get to drink and it’s hangover hell.” Huffing, I plop down in my chair and turn on my computer.
I don’t know why I’m bothering. I can hardly see and I’m in some serious pain. But, I took all of last week off so I at least need to try. My house might be paid off, but student loans are not.
Wincing at the obnoxious, white computer screen, I turn down the brightness and get to work. As it rains outside, I crack open my window and let the soft melody fill the room. It takes twice as long as normal, but by the time midnight rolls around, I have one concept roughed out. I save it and decide to wait for my eyes to work better so I can tweak it some more before I send it to my client.
“Yep, I deserve a nap.” Standing up, I stretch out my back and glance at my to-do list. “Meh.” It can wait. Little stars are still flaring on the side of my vision. My eye still feels like someone stabbed it with an ice pick.And, the rain finally stopped, so I might be able to catch a few Z’s before Mr. Obnoxious starts in again.
With stiff legs, I hobble to the bathroom and grab another pill. Swallowing it dry, I sigh into the mirror. The little, golden flares make a neat lighting effect, too bad they’re only in my head. I rub my eyes a few times, blink, and stare back at my reflection. The lights are still there, like someone’s shining a bunch of little flashlights directly at me.
“Maybe some fresh air first.” I suck in a breath, then hobble through my house toward the back door. My legs are still stiff, everything aches. Today is just not my day. Stepping out into the night, I let the salty air wash over my face. My feet splash in a small puddle on my deck, sending chilling tingles up my legs. Closing my eyes and smiling, I take a few deep breaths.
My nerves settle. Everything doesn’t seem quite as bad.
When I open my eyes, I notice something flapping on the railing to my deck. Like streamers, little tendrils flutter in the breeze while clumps of something sit in lumpy clumps underneath.
“What the, what?” I mutter, making my way to the black fencing. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I exclaim, squatting down and picking up a piece.
Toilet paper.
Flipping, toilet paper.
I grab the soaked streamer and stand up, glaring next door. The lights are all off and there’s no movement or sound, for once. But, given the toilet paper is soaked, he had to have done this earlier.
“So, this is how it’s going to be, eh?” I’m in way, way too much pain to be dealing with this crap. Pursing my lips, I glance back at my deck. It’s all over the railing, long streamers still wrapped around the top mixed with wet piles that must have fallen during the shower.
I mutter a few other choice words as I gather up the soaking mess. My shirt is drenched by the time I finish. Bringing an armful of the junk over to my garbage bin, I spot the neighbor’s truck. A smile spreads across my lips.
“Two can play at this game.”
Strolling over to his oversized gas guzzler with my hands still full, I pause at the bed, then decide to check the door. Just to check.
It opens.
