Over Again | ✓

V a g a r y

Chapter Four

❝ he whom love touches not walks in darkness ❞
;
Plato

The girl staring right back at me was a total mess. Not a hot mess but a freaky kind-of mess.

My skin had turned a deathly pale color; my bags had become more prominent that their usual state, my breath reeked of spoilt milk and my hair- oh my goodness, my hair was more than just a bird's nest. It looked like a flock of chicken stampeded over it multiple times.

And I was sick. Luckily, I managed to sleep for a straight seven hours after taking two sleeping pills and that made me feel a lot better, to be honest.

How did I got sick? Well, I decided to bike my way to work last night and while I was making my way, heavy rain poured. The smartest thing at that time, probably, was to find shade. And I did. I squeezed myself on a cramped space in an abandoned hotel that creaked every thirty seconds. The rain continued to pour and I suppose that should've been a relief because the summer heat was unbearable over the past few days but of all times it could've rain, it rained now?

It was almost one in the morning, I hadn't eaten anything yet and I was dead tired and freezing my ass off having only worn a t-shirt and overalls. After five minutes of deciding whether I should just stay there on my spot or risk getting sick, I took the latter. There were no phone booths in sight and I left my phone at home so, I biked in the rain. And behold how well that went.

"Urghh," I groaned, scavenging through the medicine cabinet for painkillers with heavy-lidded eyes. When I woke up this morning, I found myself chattering and freezing to my bones despite the heat of the sun through my windows. Where are those painkillers?

There were no painkillers. Absolutely none. I flopped on the bed groaning and covered myself with a heap pile of blankets before falling asleep.

**

"I think she's dead." A voice all-too-familiar said.

There was a warm hand on my forehead, feeling my temperature. "Yep, definitely dead."

"How will we bury her?"

Somebody groaned. "You two are so immature. She's probably just sick."

"I'll make something to eat." Then a door clicked.

"She looks dead to me."

With all the energy I had, I pried one heavy eye open. "You guys are the worst." My voice had turned gravelly and sounded clogged due to my runny nose.

Will, who was looming over me, placed a damp warm towel on my forehead. "You love us, anyway."

"What time is it?"

"Almost ten. Have you eaten breakfast yet?" I shook my head no. Deep worry was etched on Vanessa's usually bubbly face. "We were calling your phone earlier but you weren't answering. It was Will's idea to visit you so we can talk about," she wiggled her eyebrows in a way that reminded me of caterpillars, "the roadtrip."

I sneezed, covering my mouth with my hands. "Well, sorry to ruin your expectations. But just to," another sneeze, "clarify things, we're still going."

"Here. We brought medicines." Oh, thank the Lord, hallelujah.

Dennise entered the room, holding a plate with a stack of pancake that had my mouth watering at the sight. Xander and Alex followed suit. "Breakfast for the queen."

"I love you guys so much. Do you know that?" I swallowed three painkillers and began to eat my pancakes. In a little less than thirty minutes, I managed to not sneeze consecutively and the pounding in my head had turned into a soft and dull throb.