Stories About Love, Pain, And Friendship

The morning after a demon hunt

TW: Implied su*cidality, depression, neglect of self care

Sleep is never easy for me.

It's hard for me to sleep, and harder to wake up. And when I do, it's usually in a panic, in response to a flashback. To which moment of my life? There's a lot to pick from.

With my heart rate eventually going down, a deep, long sigh escaped my lips as I wiped the sweat off my face.

I made an attempt to stand up- a pitiful, unsuccessful attempt as I wobble to the floor. How amazing. How charming. How cute.

This is not the time for me body to be affected by the curses and the demons I've made encounters with for all my life. I walk to the washroom and start my morning routine. The razor reflects the light inside the said room, especially with one of the light bulbs broken. I toss it away. Don't feel like it.

I run myself a shower and get my day started. I wash my hair as I try to calm my becoming headache. Painkillers aren't enough. Perhaps I should start taking stronger ones. Vicodin? No, too expensive. 

I exit the shower and turn to look at myself in the mirror. Time is slowly eating me and that is evident. Strands of ashy brown and grey get on my eyes, but it is fine. One is going blind anyway. Cataracts only at 53. Brilliant.

What I am faced with is the tired expression of an unshaven man, who knows that no matter how many times he scrubs and peels and rinses, he will never was away the guilt and the past of his actions. Small and big scars spread themselves all around my body.

"Should have gotten murdered when I had the chance."

My little sarcastic comment did not, in fact, make me feel better. Instead, it made me feel worse.  I try to dress up. Moving my muscles is pain, definitely not a good sign. I watch myself as I adjust my collar. I ignore the small cuts and inscriptions across my wrists. 

Adjusting my glasses, I walk to my room. Shoes were always my favorite. Shoes can tell you a lot about one's person. How worn out they are, or how much they care about the little things. The tiny details that in reality will never matter as much as their consequences.

I pick a fancy black pair of shoes and put them on. I walk through my kitchen. Breakfast? I don't feel like making breakfast. My fridge is full and my cabinets are swarmed with food, yet I don't feel like eating anything. In fact, I'm still tired, I want to sleep. To sleep forever, actually.

What if I just stay here and let death take me. What if I sit in my house and rot? I wouldn't mind it. In fact, I would crave it.

I wish it would happen.

But of course, it did not.
Like every other time, in the past seven years, I got up, and went to make myself some coffee. The fact that I go through at least four to five cups a day is enough to make up for the lack of breakfast. And dinner. And lunch, but only sometimes. 

I would never hear the end of it from Claudius and Viljo if I neglected myself even more.

I prepare myself some liquid death as I check my phone for any responses. Students replying to their assignments and various calls and emails from the other kinds of people. The two idiots who keep following me around.

Amelia and Oliver are an interesting bunch. One of them is a massive geek who thought interacting with the paranormal was as easy at it was in the ghost busters series. Soon enough, she found out it was a little more like the conjuring. The other is a bundle of issues, who hate their father, and somehow engage with ghosts, cryptids, and demons, while being afraid of their own shadows at the same time. 

Friendships, relationships, they are extremely important in one's life and adventures. You get attached to someone. You love them. You dedicate your life to them. And then, before you know it, they are gone.

Just like dust.

I shake my head, trying not to think. I take my coffee and I sit down to respond to my mail. I pay close attention to everyone's assignments, and try to give as friendly a response as possible. Claudius said that positive affirmation makes students want to come back, and keeps them doing more. And for all the strictness I show them, I really am proud of them. 

I sigh as I get up and take my bag. No time to waste. I have to get to class. I walk out of my house and slam the door behind me, shutting away the demons. They will have to wait until I go to sleep. I look to my left, I look to my right. Nothing here. 

I play some music to myself inside to keep me distracted. Nothing beats a good Queen album. Nothing at all. Carmen would have loved this.

Did I reach university already? Time passes fast... It's not fair. I need to dissociate and ignore my life a little longer. Can I do that? No? Alright, then.

I get up and walk to my class. "Hi Mr.Miyagawa!" Amelia greets me, with a big wave, and a bright smile, as Oliver gently gestures her to sit back down. I wave back, setting my briefcase to the side. I hear some snide remarks and giggles from some of the students, while others comment on my tardiness.

Hopefully nobody asks where I was.