Yaas Stormrunner!
November 2013, 10:39 PM
It had been three nights since the dread dream of his face; I had yet to get a wink of sleep. Unemployed, starving, and unable to pay the weekly ransom, I sat on the moldy couch, slouching regretfully in a white stained t-shirt and faded blue boxers. I absent-mindedly flipped through the 3 channels I had until the moth was over, where my cheap-ass cable would be soon to shut off. I settled on the news which was basically the same every night; skyrocketing gas prices and school shootings. My eyes now had visible purple bags underneath them, the weight of the world rest upon them as I lazily stared at the television. I needed to sleep but every time I closed my eyes a vision of him appeared in the dark haze. I shifted my body horizontally so I lay with my head against the flattened arm rest and my knees bent at the other end. My eyes began to close subconsciously as I saw a small cockroach scatter about into the dingy tiles of the ceiling. A scary feeling of peace had rested upon me when a knock echoed from the heavy metal door a few feet from the shelf. Bottles rattled from the constant pounding. I slowly dragged my lifeless limbs from the couch, and then shuffled in a zombie-like state to the door where I groggily flung it open. I piece of hair fell over my vision where the infamous Annabeth Chase stood on the cracked sidewalk stair; hand on hip and concerned look in her eyes, she pushed pashed me, took one glance and went in a full fledge rant about god-knows-what.
Her drone of high-volume words sent a jackhammer digging in my temples, causing me to wince and involuntarily sway visibly. My hands swung up to my temples, massaging them rhythmically. "What the hell do you want?" I asked, my voice coming out tired, weak, and annoyed. My eyes narrowed into slits and my feet stumbled onto the couch, flinging me down face flat.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping? And I dropped by because I was in the neighborhood and I haven't seen you for three days. What's up?" Her words slightly lifted from my temples and almost came melodic.
"Insomnia," I told her, giving a half ass answer. I rolled over and stared at the ceiling where the fellow cockroaches lived. My mind slipped in and out of consciousness as I gained at least five minutes of sleep before Annabeth shook me awake.
"Are you listening to me? I know you need sleep, I hate to wake you up, but maybe you need to see a doctor. Maybe they have some insomnia cure or something." I stared blankly at her and she finally said, "Oh and by the way- you're welcome for taking you home three nights ago. God, you were totally hammered and kept muttering stuff. Plus, you threw up three times!" Her exasperated voice faded into the distance as I dozed out for a minute or two. "Are you okay?"
For once, I didn't know how to answer that.
The next day.
After Annabeth left, I was able to get in about two or three hours of sleep before I decided to see Rachel. I climbed in my dented car, and I realized I haven't seen her or talked to her in about three or four days. We weren't really a confronting couple; we preferred personal space ourselves and we'd never gone past first base. Our interactions were always brief and somewhat distant, compared to other couples who would cuddle and do all of that junky stuff. Rachel was more of a tomboy- we'd occasionally get into intense make out sessions but nevertheless a phone would ring or someone would walk into the room.
Rachel lived across from Manhattan where I lived. She lived in a semi-expensive loft that her parents paid for. The loft had brick walls, hardwood floors and was generally a small space. There were two rooms; a medium sized empty area where she'd lay white tarps down and spread plaster on the walls and attack them with multi-colored paints and gels, creating a work of art to those who bothered to look. Attached to that area was a small bedroom with one bed dressed in plain comforters. In the building there was a bathroom down the hall with showers, sinks and toilets dedicated to one gender and the same on the opposite end. Rachel explained there were no kitchens in the building; the structure was surrounded by restaurants of all sorts.
As I steadily parked evenly on the asphalt, I locked my car doors and walked into Rachel's building. The man behind the marble desk gave me a troubled smirk, although I had no idea why. That man was always kind of suspicious to me in some way. I poked the up button on the elevator as the metal doors opened to greet me with horrible elevator music. An old lady crouched over her cane in the corner smiled uncertainly at me as I stepped in and she stepped out. I pressed the correct number and waited until the ding sounded. At her floor, I counted, B1, B3, B6, and B8. I twisted the metal knob to her loft, looking around to find the mass of red curls. A tarp lay on the floor to the right of the door and a fresh can of paint, but she was nowhere to be found. I walked over to the bedroom and pushed open the door, asking, "Rachel are you in-"
In the room, I saw her head of fire and another man with piercing blue eyes staring at me, my eyes widening and I stepped back.
"Oh… okay." I walked out of the room, my face portraying no emotion but pulled into a mask of surprise, nothing more. I heard Rachel curse quietly and run out of the room and in front of me.
"I'm sorry Percy, it's just… I didn't really feel that spark between us, but I did when I met Luke." She tried to explain.
To my disbelief, I didn't feel anything. I wasn't mad or angry… or even jealous. "It's okay. I understand." At this, Rachel's face lit up slightly, masking her surprise in my answer.
She threw her arms around me, whispering in my ear, "I hope we can still be friends."
At that I left for home.
I was either going to make the cheating after or before. Next chapter is the trip to Greece.
Questions:
Rachel x Luke? 2. Yaas.. no sleep is bad! WHAT HAPPENS ON THE PLANE?! 3. who's up for Greece? What do You think happens?
Love, a very tired Phrontistery.