Eliona's War 2: Veiled Healer

Chapter 3

Seth clung to the side of his couch, pale and wide-eyed.

He didn't understand. How was this even possible?

My brain was fried, he thought numbly. Because how else could a person forget how to walk on their own two feet?

It wasn't like he'd actually forgotten because he knew the general process. Put one foot in front of the other and shift your weight from back to front. That part was easy. Yet somehow, he couldn't manage to do something that simple without falling flat on his face.

His hands dug into the faded brown material of the couch, his knuckles white. He cast a nervous glance at the clock hanging crookedly on the wall. A night and most of the morning had passed, and now there wasn't much time left before Mrs Beakor returned with lunch.

She'd insisted on making him something more substantial after it was clear he had no problem drinking the broth she made earlier this morning. And she had hinted that he might want to clean up a bit before she returned.

Okay, that was a lie. She didn't hint. She outright told him to go take a shower because he stunk. And she also told him that she tossed all his puke-infested clothes into a garbage bag and left it by his bathroom for him to deal with. Which was perfectly fair—she'd already done more than enough.

Alright. He set his jaw, lips pressing together. Let's try again. I just need to focus.

He focused, concentrating only on telling his right foot to lift and move a few inches over. The foot listened. It lifted. Then it turned sideways a bit, coming down toes first rather than heel first.

If it was possible, Seth paled even further. He stared at his own feet, one posed on its tippy-toe like some kind of ballerina. That's not what I told you to do!!

He lifted the foot again. Brought it down once more. It did the same thing, so he brought it back to its original position and wrangled it down beside the other one. It took two tries to get it to sit flat like a normal person's foot. Then he tried the left one. Same freaking deal.

You know what? Forget this. Scowling fiercely, Seth gave up. He was in no mood to deal with scrambled brains and confused feet right now. So, he got on all fours and crawled like a baby, because that seemed to be the only thing his body knew how to do properly.

He crawled to his room, pausing for just a moment in the doorway to brace himself. Instead of the stench of vomit, however, the only thing he smelled was the fresh scent of pine sol. That was incredibly relieving, so he crawled inside.

And froze. The mass of clothes that had been spread all over the floor had been picked up and dumped into a huge mountain on his bed. Taped to the mountain was a single sheet of paper with a messy scrawl: For crying out loud, do your laundry!!

He flushed a brilliant shade of crimson, his ears burning like they were about to burst into flames. Great. Not only had Mrs Beakor taken the time to clean up his puke, she'd also picked up his room.

Now how was he supposed to tell which clothes were clean and which were not? He'd had a system! His clean clothes got left by the door for when he'd (probably never) put them away. And dirty clothes had their own piles closer to the bed. It wasn't the greatest system, but it did the job.

He sighed and rose up on his knees. There was a gray T-shirt sticking out of the middle, and he was pretty sure that one was clean. Gingerly, he grabbed a fistful and tugged.

Next thing he knew, he was buried beneath an avalanche of clothes. Seth flailed wildly, managing to dislodge the jeans that had somehow wrapped around his head. Then he shoved aside a large bundle, scowling darkly.