To Perceive an Image

Ten: Images of A Motherly Love

The Image World, September 07, 2040, 5:30 AM

True to his words, Flynn's bed felt like everything cotton wished it was. One downside I faced multiple times during my short sleep was almost falling off the bed at least ten times. This bed could swallow mine for an appetizer, and my leg continued to find a way and hang off the bed. That is fatal, the demons could have swallowed my foot. The woody scent encompassing his room gives it a comforting feeling. His thick comforter acted as a heater, convenient. Apart from Sapphire's worn-down couch, Flynn's bed is the second most peaceful sleep-inducing surface area. An exhausted Azail sleeping in her bed would have woken up feeling the same body aches. Here, I feel rejuvenated. Flynn must have injected a potion into this bed somewhere.

The sound of slow footsteps causes a basket full of fear to shoot up my body in seconds and opens my tired eyes wide open.

Please don't come in here. I beg you to not open the door, and kiss your hand if it will prevent you from removing the comforter. As if it will save me from eternal doom, I hold my breath when I hear the door open and the sound of someone walking in. Seeing Flynn would suffice right about now. The quiet footsteps continued as I heard them come closer and closer to where I lay. A honeyed, almost inaudible voice speaks while I clench my eyes shut, gripping my hoodie strings. Thank God for my past self for choosing to wear my hoodie up and not removing it. I can disguise my hair this way without looking suspicious.

"This boy can never keep the comforter on him in this cold," the voice I now recognize as his mother's reprimands. Yeah, Flynn, keep the comforter on you.

I could not stop the shocked gasp from emitting when I felt his mother's hands adjust the comforter in areas that exposed my back and feet. Don't know whether I should feel flattered or ashamed for having feet that resemble Flynn's giant ones. Let's hope the reason she couldn't tell the difference is lingering sleep. I once again thank God for having the idea of using the comforter to cover my face during the night. Despite not breathing in a sufficient amount of oxygen during the night, and risking sleep apnea, I did not humiliate myself if she did this multiple times at night. But I hope she didn't.

"There," her voice whispers before I feel her place a kiss on my covered hair.

A lump the size of my ego grows in my throat, and I struggle to keep myself from swallowing it. As if it were a trigger, the kiss made my eyes water. Multiple teardrops line my lashes the more I think of her kiss. After what felt like forever, I hear her place a couple of clothes that have gone astray back into their usual place before she closes the door behind her.

Why doesn't mama do that?

Not baring the feeling of breathlessness anymore, I remove the covers off me and get off of the bed. The bright moonlight strikes my eyes, causing me to shriek and take a step back while trying to cover my eyes from its torture. Wiping my nonstop tears away, I look through the window. If I didn't know better, I would have gasped when I saw Sapphire's apartment complex outside the window.

Reality (or not) check, Azail, you're not in Maryanland.

The street lights accompany the moon in illuminating the otherwise unstirring streets. If I don't find a secluded corner to have my 'I'm sad as fuck and want to sob' session, I will be a bitch to everyone in my vicinity.

I adjust my clothes to look presentable after what looks like a battleful sleep. Except now, the battle's soldiers are the creaky wooden floor tiles and me. My reason for fighting is to achieve quiet steps that won't awaken anyone, the ground's reason is humiliating me. But because I'm smarter, I don't walk. Instead, I swipe my feet across the room. Opening the door, I look around for any signs of life, and almost throw my efforts to waste when I celebrate the look of the serene hallway by letting out a noise resembling a squeal. I'm one dumb sack of nuts.