I sat on the bottom of the shower. I could stand for long enough to clean myself now, but I didn't feel like it. The warm tile beneath me felt comforting, like a hug. It had been a couple of months since I'd had a really good hug.
The water pelted onto my back, and ran down into the drain in soft rivets. I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of shampoo and bodywash. I breathed, forced my awareness inwards, and tried to see beyond it all.
I thought of Clyde. I thought of Deacon, and Bethany. I thought of the memories that were still tugging at the corners of my mind, the ones from my childhood in Laurabelle Falls. I thought of my connection with the Goddess, and tried to move my energy upwards, out of myself, reaching out to the stars. I thought of my ears, imagined the right tips were there, and tried to connect to whatever it was within me that could create the spark of magic.
I imagined all of that; felt my energy thrumming, tried to push it through my body and outwards. I pictured a portal opening in front of me, and concentrated on what it would feel like to take a step forward and have the soft green grass of Laurabelle Falls between my toes.
When I opened my eyes, I still saw the white of the shower.
"Honey?" My mom rapped against the door, her voice wavering. "Are you doing okay in there? It's been awhile."
Half of me didn't want to respond. But I also didn't want my mother barging in on me naked in the shower, either.
"I'm doing fine, Mom." I shouted back. I rocked back and forth in the spray, letting the mist cloud around me.
Why couldn't I see anything but the matrix? What was stopping me from peeling back the veil of reality, from seeing the inner workings of our fabricated lives?
They had said that I could do it, if I really tried. That I would be able to return. That it wouldn't take long, I just had to have faith.
Tears began to spring to my eyes, the saltwater indistinguishable from the shower water pelting down from above. I started to shake, even though I was completely warm.
This was it.
Midterms were tomorrow, and I was all but failing every class. My mother was going to kill me, and she was going to be able to, because I couldn't find my way back yet. I was supposed to be able to do it by now.
"Are you going to come out any time soon?" She questioned.
"I'll be out in a minute." I shouted. It came out nasal-y. A thick bubble of saliva popped before the words actually came out of my mouth, and I breathed in a little too fast afterwards, choking on it. A couple of coughs later, and I finally heard my mom leaving the door.
I was shaking, I was sobbing silently. Everything was starting to feel too real again. My school, my class, my grades. Bethany Lawless had started a new season, showing that they had been working on it over the summer. Showing that there had been no magical shift to Laurabelle Falls for Bethany and Deacon.
I put my head between my knees and forced myself to breathe, relegating my cries to small spasms of my diaphragm. It hurt, but not worse than telling my mom would. It hurt, but not as bad as the full-body sobs I knew would burst out of me like the ocean unleashed if I let them.
I cried until it didn't feel like I had anything left. The only emotion was the physical ache; all else was empty.
The water started to get room temperature. Then, it started to bite my skin. I reached up, forcing myself to shift onto my knees to turn it off. I let the water drip off of my body for a few moments, letting the chill in the air replace the emptiness.
I stood on shaky legs, and pushed the shower door open.
I grabbed my towel, right next to the sink, and pat myself dry. I used the counter for support, holding onto it with my left hand as I dried my body with my right. I put my own pajamas on, one leg at a time, nearly falling at one point.
By the time I was finished, I felt exhausted. My muscles were screaming at me. This was the most I had used them in a long time.
I ignored my body's pleas for me to stop, and opened the bathroom door.
My wheelchair sat on the right, and I turned to the left, ignoring it. I didn't want to stay downstairs any more. I needed peace to do my homework.
And I figured that I might as well start to work on my homework, before my mother decided to ruin my life tomorrow.
"Sweetie!" My mother exclaimed, rushing towards me. I shook my head, holding out my hand to stop her.
"I'm going to be fine." I told her. "I want to try to go up the stairs, I really need to be in my room to concentrate on studying."
"If that's what you think you need," She agreed, slowly. I felt a pang of anger that I tried to force down.
What I needed was for her to come home before ten o'clock, so I could shower at a reasonable time. What I needed was to stop making my own sandwiches, or relying on Noah to bring me food when he could barely afford the apartment that he and Dylan were renting together.
"Please don't strain yourself," She continued. I kept walking like she hadn't said anything, ignoring her expertly.
I made my way to the stairs, and turned around. I knew I wasn't going to make it up the normal way, but this? This would work.
I pushed myself up, one stair at a time. I used my arms and my legs to push me up from one stair to the next. Again, my body protested. My muscles burned. Again, I didn't listen.
I knew that I needed to start acting normal again.
Just in case.
I got to the top of the stairs and climbed up again using the wall. I made it on shaky legs to my bedroom, all the while sweating. I opened my door, and stumbled inside.
I took out my phone. I had left my laptop downstairs, but I could start to work on my English essays with this.
I lay down on my bed, taking a moment to feel the material against me. God, it felt good. I hadn't been up here in months, hadn't had my own space since before the accident. It felt like returning to a safe haven.
I opened my phone, and went to my document app. I copied and pasted the header from my last essay. This one was due tomorrow, and it would be the only one I had turned in on time. A couple, I hadn't turned in at all.
How hard could three pages be? I used to do this all the time.
As I typed away, my brain couldn't help but wander now and again. The cursor blinked between sentences, reminding me of how empty I felt. I stared at the three paragraphs I had written, and I decided that it was time for a break.
I opened facebook.
Clyde had posted a picture, posing in his new cafeteria. Senior year at T-Town High just got a whole lot cooler, he captioned it. I stared at the likes, and clicked the button. I went through the profiles, noting how few had come from my highschool. I wondered if the matrix was being kinder to him, now that he was further away from me.
My suffering is what the Deerman was really after, after all.
I clicked on his profile, and hesitated over the 'message' button.
It would break my vow to act normal, wouldn't it?
I pressed it anyway, and facebook messenger popped up. Before I could stop myself, I typed three quick letters in rapid succession. A standard hey filled in the bubble, and I hit send. The checkmark filled with blue to indicate that the message had made it to his phone, and I waited.
And waited.
And I opened up my docs app, to continue working on my essay. In between every paragraph I wrote, I paused and checked facebook, convinced that somehow the notifications weren't working.
My heart was crying out for my soulmate, and deep down, I just knew that he could hear me.
I finished the third page of my essay. My eyes hurt, and my mouth felt dry. The clock read that it was 2 AM, and I would need to be up for school in five more hours. The tiredness from the exercise I wasn't used to or prepared for was still in my bones, and on a normal day, I would have been asleep in seconds.
But every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing his face.
I didn't get much sleep that night.