~8-All Over Again~

~Rhett~

My fingers dig into the bed sheets, soaked in my own sweats—beads of them dripping from my head down to my toes—as I awaken into reality. 

I could almost swear I had it in my fingers—the nightmare. I could almost swear I had one... but I can't remember it. It's vague now. Yet I still fear scared. Frightened by something in my dreams. It felt alive. 

I sigh a relief sigh and look around. I'm inside the room and Valois isn't here. My throat feels dry and my body is weakened as I force myself to roll off of the bed. I feel like I had died and revived. 

Goodness, my head hurts really bad. 

"The fuck happened to me?" My muscles are drained and sore. 

Getting to the kitchen, I open the fridge to attain a drink. I drink the entire content inside the carton on a go and then make myself cereals to eat. My stomach twist throughout the time, and my feet feels like it could give up on me. My heart is thudding fast as though something haunts me. 

On top of that, I can't remember anything. And that reminds me, what's today's date? Hurriedly, at least as fast as I can in this situation, I go back to the bedroom to search for my phone. Next to my phone, I find a note there and it reads. 

~Yo, roomie. I won't be around for sometime, so please take care of the house. I've got some busy duties to attend to. Be safe!~

The message is from Valois. Inwardly, I roll my eyes. He's never been around anyway. I wonder what keeps him away all the time. 

My phone in my hands, I check the time and calender. 

Today's Wednesday. I have classes from afternoon till evening. And the time says 11:28 AM. I don't have much time to prepare anymore. I proceed to taking my bath while I make a mental mantra to myself that perhaps it's my body trying to tell I'm about to fall sick. 

Although, what stuns me even more is that I can't remember anything. My mind is empty. I can't even remember what I ate yesterday or anything I did. I have no recollection of how I got to the bed last night. That's how worst my memory is. I feel like a fresh being. 

An hour later, I get to class and find myself a seat in the middle where my sight can easily capture the board and my ears can pick up the lecturer's voice. Time soon flies by, and each lecture is filled with me, swooning off, drowsy in my thinking, sluggish in my jottings, and practically not grasping what is taught. 

Today is the worst day of this month, to be honest. And I hate that I can't remember anything.

Classes have finally come to an end, the evening sun beginning to set in, when I head towards the taxi spot. I'm about to call myself a ride home when a lady calls from behind. 

"Hi...hello! Please, wait up..." Her high-pitched, slightly annoying to my weak ears and throbbing muscles, makes me halt. 

I turn around and behold, I'm the one she's calling. "Sorry, I don't think I remember this face."

"Oh, of course, not. I know you, but you don't know me. You're Rhett. See? I know you!" She squeaks as she points her fingers at me in a ghetto manner. She looks very weird whilst doing that. 

She's a brunette and British, certainly.

"Oh, I'm Elodie. Please, don't shorten my name to "Die". A lot of these bullies does that." She pleads, seemingly. And to be honest, she does look like someone who would get bullied a lot. 

She's laughing without reason, which I take as nervousness. Plus, she's scratching the back of her neck. When she sees I don't share her joke, she stutters as she goes to speaking again. 

"Uh, this may sound weird, but I just want to ask if you've seen...um, how do I even put this? I mean, it's not like I have a crush on him but I just notice to see you both together most of the time. And oh," her eyes go big, "please refrain from thinking maybe you guys are gay. I mean, you're masculine...and ripped and all of that, and so is he too, so I..."

"Who are you talking about?" I'm mentally exhausted from her beating around the bush. My brows are furrowed. I'm really not sane to be in this situation. 

"Have you seen Reynolds?" She blurts out, sighing immediately after. 

"God forbids a girl has a crush on a dude," I think to myself, my inner voice chuckling. 

But wait, that name almost rang a bell. 

"Who's that?"

"What?" She looks baffled by my question. I suppose I asked the wrong question then. "Big muscles. Hung. Pretty green eyes. Tall like a pole. Post graduate. Social executer. You must remember Reynolds."

I swear my head whine at me as she speaks some features and I try to remember anything pertaining to that. It hurts so much that my wrist almost gave up and my phone almost fell. 

"I....I have to leave please."

As I hurry to enter a taxi, the girl squeaks again. "Please let me know if you see him. He hasn't been around in weeks. Tell him Elodie worries for him." 

I ignore her and tell the driver my address. In a few minutes, I get home. Throughout the drive, my hands grab my head. It feels as though it would fall off of my neck anytime. My eyes are sore and hurting really bad as though I suffer from a severe fever yet I don't feel exactly sick. 

I hurry into the bedroom, drop my tote bag, and land on the bed. What's wrong with me? Why can't I remember anything? It's not just the previous day but other days as well. My memory is all coarse, like it had been wiped away. And it's more frustrating that when I try to think about it, my body hurts itself. 

Aside that, there's also this lingering fear at the brink of my bones. Like someone is watching me every second or something dangerous dances around my shadow. 

"Fuck," I whisper to myself. Just then, a crash from the kitchen spikes me up from the bed. I should be the only one at home! 

Tiptoeing, I make my way to the kitchen, squinting my eyes as I ready to fight whoever the thief is. I can hear humming, and as I approach, my chest tightens. 

I have a glass bowl in my hands, picked from the living room. And lunging into the kitchen, I find Rick there. 

"Dad!" I look around. He's the only one in here and he's bent over, packing the pieces of ceramic on the floor. "How's this possible? How are you here?"

"Uh, there's something called a vehicle. It moves people from place A to B." He frowns at the bowl in my hands. "Did you plan to murder me with that?" 

"What? No. I thought it was a burglar or something."

He laughs and goes to trash the fragments before he comes to stand in front of me. 

"And what are you wearing?" I ask, seeing his polo shirt and tight jean dressed with an apron atop. 

"I'm making you pancakes." 

He opens the lid covering the pancakes and the fancy smell rejuvenates me. Pancakes are my favourite. I'll die to have a piece, exaggeratingly. Ha!

But I fear that's what he made them. He knows I won't be as mad as I usually would be. 

"And I'm making you honey and chocolate syrup to dip the pancakes in. Just the way you love them."

"The way mom makes them, you mean." The tension in the air instantly level up the bar as I turn to take a seat across from him, leaving him space to use the worktop better.