Music is a part of life, a part of who we are. You can go anywhere in the world and music will follow you. You can't escape it. Whenever you hear a song, it makes you wonder, is this song meant for me? Is this the song that represents who I am, shar...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Ethan groans as I hold the ice to his knee. "Tell me again what happened?" I ask him.
"I don't even know. It just started hurting during practice."
I hum in acknowledgement as I turn the ice over, placing it back on his knee. "Maybe we should go to the doctors?"
He instantly bolts upright, then falls back with a yelp when his knee stays at an awkward angle. "We are not going to the doctors," he says adamantly through gritted teeth.
"Why not? It could be a serious injury for all you know."
"I've probably just hurt it in training. A bit of ice and rest and it will be as good as new. It will be fine Jessica, just drop it."
I was a bit hesitant but ended up agreeing with him anyway. There was no point in pushing him on the matter. I leave him to ice his own knee and make my way to the kitchen to start making us something for dinner.
Connecting my phone to the speaker we keep in the kitchen, I put on my 'Top Playlist'. The playlist is made up of a bunch of my ultimate favourite songs and artists, which is a really wide variety. I love playing it in shuffle as I never knew what to expect. 'Imagine' by John Lennon floats through the speakers, the opening piano chords flooding the kitchen. I love this song. It gives me hope that maybe one day everything will be better in the world.
I hum along as I cut the vegetables for a stir fry, something simple but tasty. At least something good has come out of never having our parents home. Both of us were pretty decent cooks, Ethan being slightly better than me thanks to all the meals he had to prepare for away games or after training snacks.
Eleven songs later we were both sitting at the kitchen table with steaming bowls full of chicken, vegetables and noodles. Ethan was in the process of telling me what was happening at training. Apparently Kyle wasn't as focussed as normal.
"I just don't understand what was wrong with him today. He's always on top of his game."
"Maybe he had something on his mind. I guess it's sort of similar to insomnia in the sense that there's something going through your head that stops you from doing what you need to do at the time," I reason.
"That... actually makes a lot of sense."
"Maybe you should talk to him about it. He may not want to but at least he would know you were there just in case."
He nods his head, brow furrowed. "I guess I can do that. I'll speak to him at training tomorrow evening."
We eat the rest of our food in a comfortable silence, my playlist playing in the background. I clean the dishes as Ethan hobbles back to the living room to rest his knee. Ten minutes later I'm curled up next to him on the couch, scrolling through Netflix and hoping that maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to get some sleep tonight.
***
I couldn't. I just couldn't sleep! It was the most annoying thing. I had been lying in my bed for the last two hours and still felt wide awake.
Grabbing my water bottle from the fridge, I put it in my gym bag with my towel and spare clothes, leaving a note on the table just in case Ethan wakes up which I doubt. He slept like the dead. Picking up my keys in the entrance hall, I exit the house, relocking the door behind me before getting into my car. Chucking my things in the back seat, I drive towards the gym.
One of the things that helps me with my insomnia is hitting a bag. Getting all my frustration out to the point of pure exhaustion so I have no time to worry or stress. The constant "one two" of hitting the bag numbing all other thoughts in my brain until all that's left is peace and quiet.
Arriving at the gym, I show the guy at the desk my pass before making my way through the building to the private room at the back. This room was always empty when I was here as it was either way too early or way too late. Dumping my bag on the bench, I grab the wrappings from my bag and wrap them around my hands, making sure they were fairly tight and tying it off at the end.
I take my favourite pair of gloves from the shelf and strap them to my hands. Walking up to the bag, I take a deep breath before I start hitting the bag with as much power as I can muster.
***
Two hours later I walk through my bedroom door, my eyes drooping. I collapse onto my bed, not bothering to change out of my clothes before falling asleep.
It feels like my eyes have only been closed for a minute before they open again. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I glance over at my alarm clock. 05:24 glares back at my in bright red. With a groan, I roll off my bed, stretching my arms out above my head.
Only three hours sleep.
I didn't actually have to get up until 07:15. I still had ages before I actually had to get ready for school. An idea popped into my head. It was Rosa's birthday today and I was planning on making her a birthday cake after school. Since I had the time, I could just do that now.
Changing out of my gym clothes from earlier, I put in some comfy clothes, pick up my hamper and make my way downstairs and into the utility room. I put on a small wash load and then walk through to the kitchen, turning on the lights. The recipe was easy enough. A simple Victoria sponge. A piece of cake.
I make the mixture, then separate it into the two tins I had prepared. Once they were in the oven, I went back up to my room to take a shower. After being at the gym and baking, I was in desperate need of a hot shower.
20 minutes later I was back in the kitchen dressed for school, sipping a mug of coffee. The buzzing of the oven alerted me that the cakes were done. Taking them out of the over, I leave them on the cooling racks for ten minutes before spreading a layer of jam and cream on top of one of the sponges. After placing the second sponge on top, I sprinkle icing sugar over the top of the cake. Perfect.
"Why does school start so early?"
I turn from my place at the counter to find Ethan hobbling into the kitchen with his eyes half closed and shirt missing. "What did I say about you not wearing a shirt in the kitchen?"
"Nothing worth listening to," he answers with a shrug and a smirk.
"Honestly you never do anything I ask."
"Aw don't worry sis. I know you love me."
I just roll my eyes, knowing he was only messing with me. "Whatever. You'd better start getting ready so we can go to school. I want to get there slightly earlier so I can use the practice room in the music department."
"Fine," he says with a groan.
"Don't be late!" I shout after him as he leaves the kitchen. He was so going to be late.
