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Chapter Five: Seventy Times 7

There wasn't a phone call but a soft thudding up the stairs and straight to my room. I guess Phoebe found the key. I looked over and there was her small figure standing in the doorway, face looking the slightest bit smug, I guess she didn't notice my legs, yet. To her I was just lying on the bed, enjoying my day off from school. P'sh, I wish. She walked over to the bed, no doubt about to say something regarding my present state, or that I shouldn't have lied to her about being sick, that I shouldn't have lied to her at all. But she didn't, she just looked down at me then my legs, jaw hanging slightly open. "Oh, my God! Helga, what happened?" Oh, now she believed me.

I smiled a little, it didn't feel right. "I fell." I looked past her and pointed to the open closet door with its shattered glass and smallest stain of blood from me. She turned around, looking then back to me, she looked almost sick. Of what, she couldn't see much from here, maybe she had an idea. "What?" I was acting like I was just dandy, like the fall didn't mean anything, like I had just tripped, a mere accident. No, Phoebe I wasn't standing in the closet crying about my mother, thinking she didn't love me, thinking she never did. Not at all. How could you think that? Maybe I was the one in denial. Nah.

"Are you okay?" The words left her harshly, like I was supposed to tell her right away, right when it happened. I nodded and she looked back at my legs. "Can I see?" Her voice came out thick with disgust. It was like she was really saying, 'No, don't show me, Helga! This is positively revolting!'

I looked up at her, "You sure?" She nodded; she was very quiet now, like small child about to play with a venomous snake, hesitant. I sat up slowly and pulled back the gauze and tape slowly, the tape hurt, feeling like I was trying to tear off the first couple of layers of my skin. I hissed out a breath through clenched teeth. I was pretty sure I wanted to see my legs more than Phoebe wanted to; they were still bleeding pretty badly or so it looked. I wasn't so sure now if I didn't need to go to the hospital. The blood flow had slowed a little, trying to heal into a hideous scab, not that scabs are supposed to be beautiful. The coloring around it was bright red, a few purple and blue spots sprinkled over the red. Bruising, which meant this was going to hurt for a while. Great. I just hope I am able to walk tomorrow, be it funny looking or not, I need to get out of here. This place is a bad omen.

She turned her head swiftly, looking at my face. "Why isn't your mom helping you?" she scolded. "She does know, doesn't she?" Her dark brown, nearly black, eyes stared into me like tiny balls of fire, daring me to confess the truth to her.

I tucked a lock of my blonde hair behind my ear, eyes watering, not looking at her anymore. "Uh—" I stammered. I didn't know what to say. "She should." My throat sounded clogged and shaky, tight. All the sudden my face felt hot, on fire. Not tears. Please, Helga, don't cry, not in front of your best friend, she'll figure it out. She's too damn smart for her own good. I swallowed back a sob.

"Ar—Are you okay?" She asked, her voice had softened, like silk against skin.

I nodded, "Yeah, my legs just hurt really badly right now." I stuck the gauze to my leg again, gently. I sniffled and wiped my tears that rolled down my cheeks and lay back down. Deep, even breaths, that's all. Just take deep, even breaths.

She grabbed the chair from my desk and pulled it next to my bed, sitting down. "Why isn't your mother here, tending your wounds?" She asked, she reminded me of a counselor. I don't really like counselors, but I couldn't say I didn't like my best friend, I just didn't like what she was doing.

I glanced at her, frowning. "Because, Phoebe, I can take care of myself!" I sighed heavily. "I don't need my mother here taking care of me like a little baby, because that's not what I am." I ground my teeth, looking at my hands wringing one another again. I felt the tears coming again. I did want her to be here to take care of me, but of course if she were here, this wouldn't have happened. I would have been happily at school.

Phoebe nodded, "Sorry, Helga. But she knows, right?" She was making sure I had told my dead mother that I sliced up my legs pretty badly because I was crying over her. Oh, yeah, Mom knew.

I sobbed hard and nodded, I couldn't talk. Tears leaked from the corner of my eyes, sliding down the sides of my face to the bottom of my earlobes, tickling. I would have turned to my side, but I didn't dare try, so I just turned my head and sobbed.

Phoebe caught on fast. "Where is she, is she the family emergency?" She paused, like she was in thought. "I mean I saw all the alcohol bottles on the coffee table and I even smelled food, I figured she was home. Helga, is she okay?" It was Phoebe who sound like she was about to cry along with me. I didn't move, except for my back bouncing a little from crying so hard. See, I told you I couldn't talk about it anyone. "Helga . . ." She said my name like I was small child, it was full of sympathy. I hated that voice.

I wiped the tears from my face but that didn't stop me from continuing to cry. I looked over at her. She was just sitting there, staring at me, tears filled her eyes. She shouldn't have been crying, there was no reason for her to. "Why are you crying?" I managed.

She shrugged her shoulders. Her small, squeaky voice was a tad bit higher than usual, "I don't know." She let out a breath and cleared her throat. "I guess I was just thinking the worst for you mother, thinking she was dead or seriously hurt. Pretty stupid, huh?" My bottom lip quivered and tears flowed harder out of my eyes as I looked at her. She didn't even know she nailed the truth and I wasn't going to tell her that. I didn't want her to worry about me, I really didn't need it. Who was I kidding, of course I needed it. I couldn't even walk at the moment because all this shit happened, because I was letting all this get to me.

Phoebe's throat worked as she swallowed hard, she stared at me. "Helga, please tell me she went out." Her voice was pleading for reassurance, eyes watching mine.

I sniffled. "Somethin' like that." The words were stifled, I almost didn't hear myself. 'Somthin' like that', it was kind of the truth, she went out...to the morgue. I would be seeing her again at her funeral, but she wouldn't be coming back. Damn it, now I was crying harder.

Phoebe removed her glasses and wiped her eyes. "What does that mean?" She asked placing her glasses back on her nose.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them tight. "It means I want to be left alone." I know it didn't make any sense at all, but maybe she would quit pushing. She is one to get subtle hints.

Phoebe sniffled. "Sure, Helga." She, again, sounded like a counselor. "I will call you later, just to see how you are doing, okay? Get some sleep." I nodded and she stood up, smiling a little. She felt sorry for me, I know Phoebe well enough to know when she feels sorry for someone, and this was one of those times. She probably felt sorry that I couldn't talk to her or wanted to be left alone, or because I lying in bed bawling my eyes out. Hell, if I were her, I would feel sorry for me, too. I do feel sorry for me.

"Bye." She walked out of my room and started to close the door but stopped, leaving it open. She probably realized it was a bitch to open the door when you couldn't walk, or maybe it was common courtesy, it was open when she came here, it'll be open when she left. Which ever, I was grateful; it would save me some time.

The phone was still off the hook, I should have asked Pheebs to hang up the phone while she was here. Damn it, Helga. I scooted close to the edge of the bed and grabbed the receiver and placed it in the cradle. I was close to falling off the bed, but caught myself and moved back to the middle. I was extremely tired, maybe it was because I was lying down or because I was crying, or maybe it was because I hadn't eaten in a while. Who knows? I touched the lamp two times and it turned off, one of those ghetto early nineties touch lamps. Vintage! Please.

I yawned and closed my eyes. It wasn't hard to fall asleep, within seconds it seemed I was in a deep slumber.

---

I opened my eyes and was staring into blackness, the only light coming from my clock radio next to my head. I blinked and looked over at the bright white light glaring into my eyes. It was eight minutes past eleven. I had fallen asleep about three o'clock. Wow, I must have exhausted to sleep for eight hours. I turned my head back to the ceiling, the stars weren't glowing, not enough light had shone on them for them to glow yet. I sighed, it was heavy and peaceful, I still a bit in the dreamy state. I sat up slowly and flung my legs out of bed and rubbed my eyes. I looked at my door, it was shut now. Hmm, Dad was home. I stood up, my legs holding my weight without me realizing it. I was still tired enough to forget that my legs had deep gashes in them; in fact my legs were the last things on my mind. I stretched my arms out, my shoulders popped loudly and it felt oh so good. I smiled and stretched out my back next, something popped loudly, almost like bone snapping in half on my lower back, I flinched. That couldn't have been healthy. I smacked my lips and frowned, I needed to brush my teeth. Something sharp pinched in my gut uncomfortably, it was my bladder. I also hadn't used the bathroom all day either, it felt like my bladder was going to explode. One thought leads to another and you realize there was so much you haven't done in one day. I was only planning on staying up for a little while, long enough to use the bathroom and possibly catch up on my dental hygiene. I started walking, more like limping, to the door and stopped; pain was shooting all through my legs.

Why are my legs hurting? The thought invaded my brain before I could stop it. I looked down slowly and smiled. I was standing! My legs weren't failing me. If I could have I would have done a happy dance. As I started waddling to the bathroom, another thought invaded my brain; I was going to have to clean these guys. That takes a while, and in the tired state I was in, it was going to even longer. Oh, well. I shrugged my shoulders and walked into the bathroom, flipping on the lights. The light was bright and harsh, making me flinch, making my head hurt. I blinked a few times, looked at the counter, something looked different, but I couldn't remember quite what. I shrugged the thought off and made my way to the toilet. I was walking like I was drunk. I guess you shouldn't try to walk when you barely could and when you couldn't see that well. I used the bathroom, washed my hands, brushed my teeth and almost fell asleep rinsing off my toothbrush. I jerked my head up and stared into my reflection, I looked like shit ran over three times with a Hummer. I turned to leave and remembered my legs and sighed. I staggered over to the cabinet and got everything out. That was what was different, the First-Aid supplies was put away. Damn it, Dad. I sat everything on the floor and grabbed the towel out of the trash; it was the only thing in the trashcan, so I had no problem with using it again. I stood up, towel in hand and washed it thoroughly then sat back down on the floor with the rest of the contents. I pulled the gauze off slowly and it woke me up, it pain was terrible. I finally got it off and sighed with relief. Under the gauze the blood had stopped flowing, forming rough bulky scabs. I ran my fingers over them and it hurt. The bruising around the wound was no longer red, but black, purple, and blue. I repeated my routine from earlier, excluding washing the gashes; I didn't think they needed to be washed. I just started with the Betadine, it didn't hurt nearly as badly as it had when they were fresh, but it still felt like I rubbing acid over my flesh, or washing my wounds with fire. When it came to the gauze and tape I learned I was able to get the tape to stick on the first try. How I was learning so quickly.

I put everything away, not bothering to throw the rag away again, I would need this again. I stood up and frowned as my stomach rumbled. I was starving. I don't think I have gone this long without food in my life. I looked at the clock that stuck on the mirror, trying to read the small print of numbers. 11:29P.M. It was late, I will eat tomorrow. Maybe. Probably. I yawned and turned off the light to the bathroom and found myself in utter darkness. If I didn't know my house like the back of my hand, I would have been in trouble. I staggered to my bed and plopped down. I should really get up again and change out of these bloody jeans into my pajamas. My eyes began to drift shut; I guess that eight hours was enough sleep for me. Hmm, these were comfortable for now. I yawned, half asleep and was out light a light again.

Author's Note – This chapter was boring too. Ah, oh, well. Review, review. Thank you!

Author's Note – I am trying to concoct a new story, something not so depressing. Something for Halloween. We'll see.