Cupid's twin, Valentine.

2: The Plan

Horrible.

I felt horrible.

I'm not sure if this is an exaggeration but, I'm pretty sure that last night someone punched me in the gut a hundred times while I slept. That's the only reasonable excuse as to why my stomach hurt the way it did.

I sat up in my bed with a groan and reached for my glasses on the nightstand. After putting on my glasses, I grabbed my phone from my desk, where I had left it last night, to check the time.

That was when the first bad thing happened.

My phone was dead.

Completely dead.

Fearing for the worst, I yanked my curtains open to see what time of the day it could be but thankfully it was still dark. It felt like 5am. Heaving a sigh of relief, I hopped off the bed only to feel a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. I put two and two together and realized that it was that time of the month for me.

That was the second bad thing that happened.

I plugged my phone to its charger and decided to take a bath and clean up. Grumpily, I made my way to the bath room and after my soothing bath, I got dressed and ready for school. I peeked out my window again and I saw that the sun had almost fully risen. It was probably 6am now.

I headed downstairs to prepare breakfast since I had the time.

And that was when the third bad thing happened —cue the dramatic soundtrack.

I glanced at the clock on the shelf in the living room and it was most definitely 6am —yay! Cheers!— but it was 6am on Tuesday, the 15th of April. That shouldn't have been possible, yesterday was Sunday, the thirteenth, today should be the fourteenth.

Looking back now I probably should've freaked out more, but I didn't and dismissed it as one of Marcus's stupid pranks to get me to freak out —he's done that eleven times and has succeeded 6 times, not consecutively. I'm sure I was in denial because I had an important test to take on the fourteenth and everyone at home knew it was a big deal for me and I didn't want to believe I had missed it.

I was making coffee, after being done with preparing a breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast when Dad came downstairs with mum.

"Well well well, look who decided to finally wake up", Mum said.

"Good morning to you too, mother." I replied, my eyes never leaving the coffee in the pot.

"Good morning, honey, are you feeling better now?" Dad asked with a genuinely worried look on his face.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his concern. Not that its weird for dad to be worried about me—he's the only one, out of the two, that I consider my real parent– I just didn't get why he was worried. I was perfectly fine, except for the little wolverine, ripping my insides in the name of cramps.

"I'm fine, Dad. Do I not look okay?" I asked him.

Mum snorted at this. Very mature.

"Well, considering you slept throughout yesterday, I'd say you're terribly ill and you need a doctor to check you out before you spread whatever it is you have", she said while helping herself to the food I made.

"That's funny, 'cause I'd say you're old and need to speed up the dying process", I said with a laugh.

Apparently it wasn't funny to them because both mum and dad glared at me silently.

"What? It was a joke", I said with a shrug. I really do hope I was joking.

"A joke, really? Val, you know how sensitive your mother gets when you talk about her age", Dad said. I think I really pissed him off.