His Arched Lover

Chapter One

The sharp pain in my back awoke me once again. That was the fourth time tonight since I slept past eleven. I started to lose count when I thought I would be up all night, but it wasn't hard to keep track when the intensity quadrupled as well.

It was nothing like pulling a muscle or straining it even; it was like a rope soaked with toxin was tied to your leg bone and as you tried to take it off, it hinged all the more: nibbling away all your flesh until all that's left was the thing it was knotted to — a naked, delicate, and vulnerable piece of bone. Then when you thought that was how it ended, the venomous rope turned to a line of incredibly sharp and pointy knives of all sizes. 

One second my eyes were closed shut from exhaustion since the third strike that happened twenty minutes ago, then they were opened wide the next. A rainstorm of sweat crowded in the temples of my head and dripped to my neck and my chest shortly after.

Panting uncontrollably, I moved carefully to sit erect. I wanted to scream but I didn't want to wake Stuart. My palms clenched on the pillows as I held the pain inside for as much as I can. However, not for long. I couldn't take this anymore.

Screaming fervently, I put pressure on the bottom part where it hurt by pressing it hard with my right hand. It was an awkward position; I could barely reach the exact spot where the incessant agony was coming from.

My cry for help was loud enough for the street dogs in the neighborhood to hear. And we were on the fourth floor. They barked back; and suddenly all of the dogs were barking: causing clamor to the rest of my sleeping neighbors. Everybody ranted. I didn't mind.

"Mary!" My brother Stuart entered the room with panic and turned on the lights. His eyes were as tired as mine, but he ran to me like he had slept for more than eight hours. "I heard a scream. What do you need?"

"Stuart," I groaned, still touching my back. A smile of relief plastered on my face as I saw him. My eyes searched for the medicine on the metal tray then I told him weakly, "Give me the morphine."

Hastily, my brother grabbed the morphine and gave it to me. "Here, have some water," he said, tilting the rim of the glass to my mouth. As I drank eagerly, I thought about the many times he showed up and assisted me in moments like this. His tired face expressed worry towards me all the time, and sometimes, I hated that he took care of me more than he did for himself. I wished he would stop wasting his life for me.

"Fifty dollars," I muttered quietly as I finished drinking.

"There you go again," Stuart shook his head in disappointment, taking the glass from my hand. "Could you stop thinking about expenses for once?"

"Money doesn't fall from trees, Stuart. I've told you that before. It's wise to be mindful," I replied, wiping all the sweat in my face.

I leaned to my pillow and told him to leave. "Thank you. Now, go, you have to get some rest."

"Not until you're resting yourself," he said firmly.

"It'll take a while for the morphine to kick in," I replied, "But you have a big quiz tomorrow and now you have to sleep."

Being the caring brother he was, he convinced me otherwise. "I'm pulling an all-nighter anyway. I'll just stay here with you until you feel better." He poured the glass with water.

"Now, Stuart," I looked him in the eye, "Don't make me tell you twice."

"Alright, alright, no need to glare your eyes at me," he raised both of his hands, "but if ever you need me, you know what to do."

He kissed my forehead. "Don't be too hard on yourself," he said, walking to the door.

"Okay, sweetie," I covered my lie with a smile as he left.