It was Saturday, the weekend after everything happened, and by everything I mean… everything. If it wasn’t school assignments that bit me in the ass due to the sheer amount of homework left over from the literal fire that destroyed the school the previous Friday, it was the fact I had been in the ICU for the weekend, then returned last Monday. Then between all that, I got rescued by a villain who partnered up with their worst enemy after nearly being snagged off the street. Cause yes, shit is that bad now. I found myself exhausted mentally to the degree homework merely became a distraction.
It doesn’t help that over the week I had a few doctor’s appointments. To be specific, two different kinds—my regular doctor plus a newly appointed therapist.
Yep, that was it. I was deemed traumatized enough by my mother that I required a therapist.
Not that I minded. The therapist helped me convince my mom to stop taking the sensory suppressants—that they would do no good for me. Something about how my brain is meant to adjust to my senses over the years and reducing what I was sensing meant I wasn’t getting the stimulus I needed? That… sounded about right, at least. Mrs. Hyden—my primary healthcare provider—was easily convinced to stop prescribing it.
So now, I was hyper-aware of everything, home alone because Mom was at work. It was 2 p.m., and it was a quiet day.
Which was why I wanted to STAY HOME today. It was quiet, too quiet. Impossibly quiet. If there had been one thing I learned last week—when it is this quiet, something is inevitable to go wrong.
…Or I found a new sense of paranoia that would haunt me for the rest of my days. Honestly… I don’t think I mind it. Better safe than sorry?
Between homework, school, and the week full of doctor’s visits that are bound to get me sent to a specialist at some point, I found myself falling back into the old rabbit hole that haunted me a few summers ago.
The manila folder opened in front of me at my desk, black laptop open. The screen lit up listing the results of plentiful searches; my fingers hit across the keyboard with satisfying clicks and clacks. Various tabs stayed open, full of news footage that had littered the news reports released over the course of the previous week. I kicked my legs backwards and forwards in short bursts while my body moved around in the uncomfortable chair. I am convinced I need a new one….
My other hand scribbled notes into the folder, as my brain buzzed with thoughts that worked together like slow gears, attempting to pull the fabrics of a theory into the realm of believability.
When it came to Cinderash, who was the first figure I made my attempt to catch up on, nothing proved the hypothesis fourteen-year-old me made in regards to the villain.
Electroshock? I discovered she disappeared around my fifteenth birthday. The result was that there was nothing to catch up with regarding her. Nothing to change my speculations with—she was just gone. No answer. To prevent the downward spiral that was sure to occur, I did my research on Smokey.
Smokey was a recent member of the Zel.Corp task force, publicly announced as an intern on said task force. He had only joined within the earlier months this year. Notably, when it came to discernment of what his condition entailed… I only had two words:
White. Fire.
With the Neitliem condition, it was rare, however possible, to have similar enough ability byproducts to another patient. It didn’t even begin with blood relations.
That said, people often might be terrified of him due to the reputation Cinderash practically gave flames.
I hadn’t been able to truly deep dive as my phone went off. I picked up the metal device, witnessing a notification that said: “1 message from Intruder.” A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I unlocked my phone.
Over the week, my mom had given me Zachary’s number, given the circumstances and misunderstandings.
Chat with - Intruder, The Cat Stuck in a Tree
[Intruder: Hey Carter, I wanted to ask—there is a fall festival happening tonight. I figure with everything happening it could be a good way to distract yourself and for us to bond?]
I let out a snort.
[The Cat Stuck in a Tree: Already preparing to propose to my mom?]
There were a few moments before the ding.
[Intruder: what?]
I sent back:
[The Cat Stuck in the Tree: Trying to bond with your girlfriend’s son? Sounds like you wanna butter me up in order to obtain permission to propose. Lmao.]
There was no indication of him on the other end for a solid five minutes. Then he replied.
[Intruder: Carter. Language.]
The realization dawned on me. I laughed hysterically while I wrote the reply.
[The Cat Stuck in the Tree: DID YOU HAVE TO ASK SOMEONE WHAT ‘LMAO’ MEANS?]
[Intruder: I asked the kid of a co-worker, yeah… wait did I just give you more ammo??]
[The Cat Stuck in the Tree: Hell ya you did.]
[Intruder: Fine, fine. Is that a yes or a no to the festival? Said kid is coming with us by the way—I am on babysitter duty.]
[The Cat Stuck in the Tree: Noted. Alright, fine, only because you seem like a decent enough dude.]
[Intruder: Carter. I drive you home from school every day. What do you mean!?]
[The Cat Stuck in the Tree: :3]
[Intruder: I give up. Just be ready by 4 p.m. Remember to take your medicine and hormone blockers.]
I sent a thumbs up, then stretched. It was 2:30 p.m. now… I stood up, cleared out the tabs on my laptop, then powered it off, proceeding to clean up my table. All while silently praying nothing happened today. As that was honestly the last thing I wanted—for my bad luck to affect my potential stepfather and co-worker’s son.
Unless it was already affecting Zachary, because how the hell does one become a babysitter for their employer’s kids like that?
26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxbisWiWBp0
