warning: explicit references to british daytime tv
My Name Is Mary-Stew
"As if I couldn't be any more like a Mary Sue." The curly haired Clint had seemingly ignored my remark as he handed me some cold stew in a wooden bowl. I was right, though. One day into the glade and I'd already broken my arm and had a mental breakdown, I was doing so well. I sighed and looked down at the makeshift cast that Clint had applied to my lower arm; it was beige, the colour of mediocrity. My house wouldn't be caught dead with beige coloured walls - or alive - considering that houses are not usually classed as 'living'.
The smaller boy walked into the room, saw that I was conscious, walked back into the other room, back into this room and handed me a spoon, presumably for my stew. Phew, that was convoluted. "Bea, why did your arm shatter so easily?" Jeff's starkly American accent amused me somewhat, though I caught myself before I had the chance to accidentally snort my stew.
"I dunno." Except I did know, I just didn't want to admit it to myself, let alone these two. It seemed plausible that I would break my arm in that manner, I had thought. Clearly I was wrong. Either that or these two were more avid questioners than Bradley Walsh on a good day.
Slowly, I lifted the shallow spoon to my mouth and tentatively licked the stew. The congealed nature of the stuff was more than enough to put me off, no matter how good it tasted. I replaced the bowl forcefully on the bedside table and shrugged the thin blanket off of my shoulders. Everyone must have been wondering what the fuck was up with the girl claiming to be a clairvoyant out of nowhere, especially after she smashed her radius while being a complete bastard. There had to be some way to sneak out of here and socialise.
Dusk was approaching; light was streaming in through the gaps in the branches, casting a goose-shaped shadow on the floor from my - still full - bowl. I must've been out for a while, then. Plasticky clatters erupted from the room adjacent to me in what I can only assume was a medication bottle-related incident, followed by enthusiastic cursing.
Author's Note: I got ill! Who doesn't love a bit of sinusitis after all? Admittedly, I did manage to snag a four-day weekend last week, though most of it was spent downing decongestants and thinking that my lungs were finally ready to give up on me. If I don't post a chapter next week, you know what happened. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter before I ruined it with some pointless complaining - have a great day, week, month and year wherever you are in the world :)