Groaning, I pull a pillow over my face, shivering though I'm covered in at least 17 gallons of sweat and swearing loudly as a flash of pain rushes through my head.
This is torturous, why am I sick my 7th day here? I've yet to explore any of town thanks to unpacking and scheduling my school classes taking up all of my time. All that none stop work leaves me exhausted each and every day before the sun can even descend under the horizon.
In the end I would say all that procrastination of emails and generally important projects was-in it's own twisted way- completely worth it, my room here looks better than my room at home by a long shot. I hung up at least 20 posters around my headboard, my awkward yet amazing idea of an accent wall, the room had came equipped with a bed, desk, and desk chair so it wasn't hard for me to set everything up alone.
About 2 days ago Phil found out I have a mild form of OCD, so now whenever I'm not in my room he sneaks in, pushing my bed off symmetrically and scattering all my files over the floor. Thankfully that's the worst he's done since the accident 3 nights ago, and I'm not taking that for granite. After the blond twins I've tried my hardest to avoid Phil, completely certain he was fuming and just waiting for the next thing to set him off.
I twist and turn, throwing my green and blue checkered blanket to the side. Than back on. Mr. Lester gave me this blanket a couple nights ago when my parents never sent my old covers. Both of them swearing up and down my sister stole them for her room, which is fine by me since I don't need them urgently. At first I had felt uncomfortable about borrowing Phil's blanket but Mr. Lester had insisted it was fine and that Phil uses a black and gray one instead.
I turn my head to the side, groaning instantly at the rush of pain. It was like my brain was a set of marbles running amok in my skull. Any slight movement sends nauseating pain through my head, forcing me back to my soft pillow. I tried getting my mind off it earlier with Tumblr but the tiny font and slight angle upwards I was forced to sit in had me tethering on the edge of throwing up.
My throat tightens at the thought of puking, causing me too shudder and swallow down the impending throw up building at a blindingly fast pace.
I really really hate being sick, always have, always will. The feeling of doing absolutely nothing because I physically can't happens to drive me bat shit crazy. I haven't even gotten around to getting my British driver's license and that's one of the only things I really need for the whole year.
Across from the bed, on the mahogany desk my desktop suddenly popped up with a Skype notification. I flip off the mattress, attempting to stand and walk over to my computer. I can send her a quick update before taking a nap. A nice, long nap will throw this sickness right off.
This time I can't swallow down the sudden rush of fluid fighting it's way up my throat. The world spins before my eyes and I swing my bedroom door open, barreling past Mrs. Lester in my haste to heave up almost all my stomach fluids. Uncontently I may add. There's only time to softly shut the door before I'm on my knees puking into the porcelain toilet.
After all my stomach has been emptied I spit out the gross after taste, gagging when I take even the smallest sniff, ready to throw up again just from the sight of my now full toilet basin."Fuck." I whimper to myself, crawling a few feet away from the terrible place and curling into a little ball on the floor.
"Dan? What's happened are you okay?" Mrs. Lester says urgently, knocking on the door to get my attention. I groan, not even trying to move in fear my head may explode if I do. The door handle jiggles, signaling Mrs. Lester's attempt to get in. She pushes it open only the smallest bit before hitting my spine. I whine as even more pain is thrust onto my body.
"Dan! I'm so sorry. Were you sick honey?" Mrs. Lester asks, scooting in with humongous effort. She kneels over my side, hair falling awkwardly into my face. I try to look her in the eyes but groan as my eyes meet with the light above the vanity instead.
"I am super sick, god this sucks." I mumble, covering my eyes and curling up until it feels like my spine may crack in half. Mrs. Lester runs a hand up and down my shoulder soothingly while cooing down at me. At first it's quite an awkward experience but the steadily growing homesickness of my entire family has me calming down easier.
"Do you want anything? I have some pepto in one of these cabinets." Mrs. Lester notes, standing up and stepping over my body towards the vanity. I distinctly hear her rooting around the cabinet's contents but the fresh wave of pain running through my head every time I so much as shuffle my body convinces me to let her do what she wants.
"I think I... just need to sleep it off." I groan tiredly, giving myself a light pep talk to convince myself to move. Though at that moment I am 100% okay with never moving from this spot again. Just laying here until someone has to manually drag me back to my room. Yeah, that sounds a lot better than moving and risking throwing up again.
"Here's some aspirin, just take two and you should be fine. Do you want me to make anything, I make a killer chicken noodle soup." Mrs. Lester asks and I shake my head no. Immediate regret sets in as fire runs through my brain and pinging around my head, bringing bright flashes of pain to random places in my head.
"No, no, I'll be fine. The medicine please?" I ask, trying not to sound rude but my brain is pounding like a bass drum and I feel my throat tighten sickening. She drops a aspirin into my hand and sets a Buzz Lighter cup filled with water by my side.
With great difficulty I roll to face the ceiling, propping myself against the wall and taking to aspirin in on desperate."Who's cup is this?" I question, manly because I haven't seen it around the bathroom this entire time. Mrs. Lester chuckles lightly, taking the cup from my hands and dumping it in the sink.
"Phil's. He doesn't like to admit that's the only cup he can find in the bathroom. I take all the other ones out of here every morning. My little way of getting back at him." Mrs. Lester shrugs, setting the cup on the side of the vanity and turning towards me."Do you need any help up?"
"No, I think I can manage, I got this far." I tell her, straightening up slowly and my forehead pinching uncomfortably. I turn the handle down, letting all my throw up disappear into the sewer for some teenagers in a horror movie to have to track in to find some stupid secret ruin.
Mrs. Lester follows me back to my room anyway. It's amazing how comfortable she already is with me in the house. Mr. Lester is still on the rocks and doesn't like having me in the living room after they go to bed. He probably thinks I'll take all his stuff and murder him one night. Or maybe it's because he thinks Phil will murder me, a more realistic option if I'm being honest. I don't think I have the mental capacity to kill someone and something I telling me Phil would do it in a heartbeat.
We arrive back in my room, me stumbling and collapsing into my bed. Mrs. Lester doesn't walk in after me, instead staying by the door and surveying my room, it must be a Phil habit, I've seen a lot of those come from her. The way she always knocks before going in every room, the way she checks with me every 3 hours or so, making sure I haven't snuck out or was forced into taking drugs by Phil.
That's one of the only sliver linings of Phil, I am about certain he's never done ny drugs, he may have secured the 'bad boy' look but he holds no leverage when it comes to looking like a junky. Plus I've never walked into the hall to find him prancing in his underwear with a lamp shade stuck over his head.
"Thanks Mrs. Lester." I shuffle on my side, cuddling up under the blankets again. She smiles warmly, happy to baby somebody in this house again.
"Oh please, call me Lyda," she says, turning away and shutting the door securely behind her.
I turn over on my side, seeing my phone sat snugly on top of my laptop, maybe I should check it. I can defiantly face time my sister if she forces me into it. The moment the screen kicks to life I hiss in pain, eyes burning as the bright light runs straight to my corneas and making the headache that much worse. God, I should've taken more aspirin, one won't kick in for an hour at least thanks to my immune system being slower than an old man walking in quicksand. Aside from a few Tumblr notifications I find nothing of interest, I sigh. Shutting off my phone and throwing on the nightstand yet again.
Nothing to do, sick as fuck, and suddenly being hit by all the things I procrastinated getting done is not what I imagined my month of summer in the Lester household. Yet here I was, sweating gigantic drops of water and feeling brutally sorry for myself. The heat becomes to much and I rip my shirt off, actually hearing a tear in the old fabric when I rip it over my head and throw it in the direction of my hamper. It lands, on the completely other side of the room. Close enough.
"So you're sick huh?" I scream than I groan at the lightening bolt of pain. My head swivels towards the origin of the sound, my eyes catch with Phil's his tinted with amusement and mine the exact opposite.
"No way, I didn't know, thanks for the check up Dr. Lester." I sass, rolling over to look away from him. I'm still bitter about what he did before with the instant kicking out. I can't understand why he's so mean to me. I've done nothing to him but does he care, of course, he just needs a rag doll and now he's finally got one.
"Don't be an asshole." Phil mummers, making no move to enter my room.
"Why are you here anyway? Don't you have some puppies to sacrifice to Satan? Or whatever it is you do." I shoot back, crossing my arms under the blanket, feeling proud of myself for that shitty little comeback that silenced Phil for a few precious seconds before.
"Mo- Lyda, wants to now if your going to be able to eat dinner. Pancakes. Don't shoot the messenger fuck nuts." Phil sighs impatiently, leaning against the door. I glare at the wall, staring with such intensity I half expect lasers to shoot from my eyes directly through the window. Then hopefully bounce back and burn all of Phil's hair of in one clean move. Now that would be something to cheer for.
"No, probably not. Ask if she can put some in the freezer for later though." I try desperately to think of a good ending comeback but all I think up before he shuts the door is."Nice Buzz Lighter cup by the way, very rebellious."
Phil slams the door last second. I can physically feel my bed shake as he slams down the steps. Have I fucked up again? He's going to tell his mother I want pancakes and poison them now, if he actually has poison on hand. Well, rat poison I guess, it takes a lot of that to kill somebody with that though and I'm sure I would taste it. What if he's been poisoning me slowly this whole time and that's why I'm sick? I live in these little fantasies for a long time, only escaping them when my phone begins vibrating.
I reach over, picking my phone up and seriously regretting turning it on when it burns my eyes for the second time today. A text from my sister almost makes me yelp for joy but I stop myself, instead giggling happy as I grab my headphones and click face time while simultaneously plugging them in.
She answers almost instantly and I smile brightly the second her face comes into view. She smiles back until a confused look crosses her face. For a moment I wonder whats up before remembering I look like I've crawled back from the dead just seconds ago."Hey, sis, I'm a little sick at the moment." I explain quickly so we don't waste all our time focused on that one shitty topic.
"Hey Dan! Sorry about the sudden bout of plaque. How's it going?" She asks, angling the screen a little so my old room comes into view from her opened doorway. I grin at it and homesickness rushes over my body for the hundredth time in the last hour.
"Good. I hung most of my stuff today," I show her my poster wall and the desk across from my bed."Halfway through I ran out of tape so I'll need to hang the rest some other time." I shrug, falling on my side again and angling my phone to show my fucked up looking face.
I really look like I'm dying on the screen, my skin paler than ever and dark bags under eyes puffed out and tinted purple. My lips are chapped and I almost at the little bit of dried puke residing on my chin. I scrape it away with my nail.
"So, how are mom and dad doing without there favorite son?" I ask happily, noticing how dark it is in the back round for here, I look at the bright sun hidden by drawn blinds and curse god for the existence of time zones.
"The fighting ended mostly now, I still don't talk to them as much but they've gotten better." She answers and I feel a twinge of sadness, it toke me leaving for them to finally works things out.
"That's great and hows Ge-Off-Ery?" I ask with a single eyebrow raise, stifling a giggle at my pronunciation of her boyfriends name.
"He's good, we went on a date earlier actually saw that new movie I was all excited for. Fucking horrid, a real cinematic disaster but we survived." She shrugs her shoulder, black hair falling off her shoulder and collecting around her back like it always looks."How are things going with the loon?"
Immediately my nose crinkles and eyebrows furl at the slightest jab of a conversation about Phil."I don't want to talk about that ass." I inform her. She looks a little hurt and is about to say something to me when a sudden alarm reaches my ears, causing me to flinch in pain. Her eyes widen and I look around for the source of the sound, smoke alarm or beginning of a My Chemical Romance song?
"Dan! Fire!" I distinctly hear Phil's voice from outside my door and the sound of him rushing down the steps, leaving me to a house with a fire growing inside it, great.
"I'll call you back." I whisper urgently to my sister, clicking end call before she has a chance to speak again. I stand, pain numbing the back of my head but I use all my willpower to ignore it. Stumbling over the my laptop I unplug, saying fuck you to anything else I may own and rushing out my door.
I run down the stairs, breathing heavy and running out the front door fast as I can. When I get outside I let out a deep breath, shuffling forward and sitting on the ground in order to get my air back, god I need to work out.
"I told you he'd fall for it." I turn back from the house to meet Phil's eyes, along with the blue eyed twins from before. They're all cheering and high fiving each other triumphantly.
I feel my eyes grow watery, hands shaking in my lap as I pale considerably, throat tightening from the built up need to sob. They all continue laughing and the sound rings in my ears, my chest constricts and the sudden need to get away from them makes itself heard.
I stand up on the lawn, trying to walk away with pride but I can't stop the little run that I do to escape them faster."Where are you going Howell?" A single tear runs down my cheek and I hid my face behind my fringe. C'mon Dan, they don't matter, they're just stupid ass teenagers. I finally get back into the house, slamming the door shut with my body.
"Hey Da- woah hey, honey what happened?" Lyda appears from the kitchen arch, the smell of pancakes walks heartily towards me.
"I-I don't want to talk about it. Please just... leave me be for a while" I mummer, tears finally escaping in sheets. I run up the stairs, ignoring Lyda's questions and locking my door. I jump on the mattress, curling into a ball again and staring at my bedsheets, the blue and green swirling together in my tear filled eyes.