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    Katya Dee
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Tribuo - 43. Part IV, chapter 15

- XV -

 

Saturday

 

Tara drove me to my apartment around three in the afternoon on Saturday. I have no idea what she put in my tea last night, but I slept until almost one in the afternoon.

“Want me to come up?” she asked quietly when she pulled into the parking lot of my building.

I almost said sure, but then realized that she probably couldn't wait to get the hell away from me as fast as she could.

“I’ll be okay,” I managed to smile weakly. “Really. I am going to do some major cleaning today… Thanks for everything, Tara… I am… Umm… I’m really sorry about your mirror…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a small smile. “It was a crappy mirror anyway.”

“Right…” I opened the door of the car and climbed out. “Thanks again, Tara…”

“Call me if…” she shrugged. “If anything, okay?”

Right, I thought. She will probably turn off her phone. Can’t blame her.

“I will,” I nodded and shut the door of her car.

I blinked when I realized that my own car was sitting in its usual parking spot. I whirled around and looked at Tara. She shrugged.

“Seth drove it here last night,” she said.

“Thanks…” I muttered.

“Call me,” she said again and drove off.

 

*****

 

It was almost eight in the evening, and I was exhausted. I cleaned the entire apartment; I all but licked the floors and counters. I knew that the minute I stopped cleaning, I would start thinking again, and that scared the hell out of me. By eight in the evening, the apartment almost sparkled and I was too tired to think.

I tried calling my father, but it seemed his phone has been disconnected. Or maybe he just didn't want to talk to me. That was more likely. Finally, around 8:30 or so, I gave up on calling him and decided to go to Starbucks. I needed some tea and I didn’t feel like making it myself. Plus, getting out of the apartment would do me good anyway.

 

…I got my tea and went outside. The weather was surprisingly nice and it wasn’t cold at all. I drank my tea and was amazed at the lack of voices in my head. Actually, come to think of it, lack of everything, not just voices. I felt like I was wrapped in one huge bubble of emptiness. Nothing mattered, not even physical pain. It was bizarre, but at the same time strangely comfortable. I was slowly drinking my tea, when I saw Russell walk into Starbucks with some guy. I guess it was his friend or whatever. I thought about maybe saying hello just to be polite, but then decided that I didn't feel like getting up. So I sat on my chair, hiding in the shadows, and watched them through the glass.

The barista girl said something and quickly went into the back room. I sipped my tea. The whole place was almost deserted; there was nobody outside but me, and nobody inside but Russell and his friend. I brought my teacup back to my lips, and then I froze in my chair. Because the minute the barista girl disappeared in the back room, Russell pulled his friend closer to himself and kissed his mouth. I couldn’t even blink. I saw the other guy’s hand tangle up in Russell’s blond hair, and I dropped my cup. Oh, God… He would rather do this to some guy than me? Jesus, just how repulsive am I?!

Something inside me tried to speak up, and it was trying to say that I was being ridiculous, and that this had nothing to do with me. But then I heard another melodic cry of a crystal string popping in my head. And another. And another. Finally, the popping stopped, and I welcomed back the emptiness. I watched those two get their drinks and get out of the coffee shop. I was safely hidden in the shadows, so they didn’t even see me. I watched them slowly walk away and stop briefly for yet another kiss, and this time, I had no reaction at all. It felt as if I was watching some really boring show on television.

 

…When I got home, it was almost eleven in the evening. I went into my bathroom and pulled all the bottles out of the medicine cabinet.

“Finally, you are doing something right…” Ah, my mother is back. Lovely. “Seriously, Emma! About time! You do know why that man hit you on the head, don’t you? Because he didn’t want to look at your ugly face while he was having his way with you!”

“Yes, mother,” I answered absent-mindedly. “I know.”

I had several flashbacks while I was going through all those bottles. “I don’t think it’s a good idea…” and Russell’s grave face. “Emma, God, I am sorry…” and repulsion in Tara’s eyes. “Are you deaf or simply rude?” and a hefty smack on the side of my head, so he didn’t have to look at me. “I always sent you cards, Emma…” Yes, dad, you did. And now you are not even picking up your phone, not that I can blame you. I can’t blame anyone at this point, just myself.

I almost smiled when I found the bottle I was looking for. I had troubles sleeping right after my mother’s funeral, and I got a prescription for some mighty strong sleeping pills. I tried taking some a few times, but then I felt really groggy in the morning, so I stopped. I looked at the bottle and frowned, trying to figure out if the fact that they were expired was going to change anything or not. Finally, I shrugged. Who cares. I had at least twenty seven of them in that bottle, and even though they were expired, they should still do their job.

I swallowed every single pill in the bottle, lay on my couch, and closed my eyes. Even though the pills were expired, I could feel them kick in pretty fast. Best feeling in the world.

 

*****

 

I guess I fell asleep, because when I opened my eyes, everything around me was pitch-black. I felt like my stomach was turning inside out.

“Oh, God…” I muttered and got up as quickly as I could.

I was beyond groggy, so I never made it to the bathroom. I collapsed on the floor just outside my living room, and threw up so violently that for a few seconds I seriously expected to see my guts in the disgusting puddle of vomit. My stomach kept convulsing for what seemed like an eternity, and when it finally stopped, I didn’t have any strength left in my body. I fell onto the floor, next to my own bile, and I couldn’t even cry, I just lay there, trying to ignore the stench.

“God, Emma,” my mother sighed with annoyance. “Can you do anything right?!”

Apparently not. I stayed on the floor for almost an hour. Finally, I was able to pull myself up and clean up the mess.

 

©Katya Dee. All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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And Emma gets 200 extra points plus a do over for a sensitive stomach.

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