There's nowhere to go from here, is there?
Exhausted isn't a strong enough word to describe just how depleted I am.Which, if my life has been any indication on how the rest is going to go, it will never end.I'll forever be haunted by things no one else believes in.Why would they?I'm real—stand in front of them and carry a conversation real—and they don't believe me either.
What's the fucking point?
If they'd stop being selfish for one moment, I could close my eyes and find what I've not had since I was a little girl.Peace.
BAWK-BAWK-BAWK.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DO.
Recoiling, my eyes snap open.Nothing but thick steam and several unexpected strobes of light fill my vision.The sudden flash sends a sharp pain shooting through my retinas.
BAWK-BAWK-BAWK.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DO.
The atrocious sound makes me wince as I reach for the faucet and crank it to the right.In the corners of my eyes, flashes bloom again, flickering when the obnoxious cawing screeches again.
"W...what the fuck is that!"
Out of the shower, I nearly slip when water sleuths off of me onto the floor.Barely catching myself, I cup my hands over my ears and stalk closer to the shrill.Beside my meds and water sits the ugliest plastic chicken I’ve ever seen.The timer, he really set out the most decrepit thing he could find.Where did he even get this from, a house fire?
Finally, it stops abusing my ears and sits in silence.
It's mostly orange, I guess, with some black tail feathers and what used to be green grass.The beak is worn down like a child used it for sidewalk chalk eons ago, paint is missing from overused numbers, and it's half melted.It needs to be retired to the trash can, honestly.The abomination must be my cue to take the pill.
Carefully, like it’s a snake, I look it over.I don't know which medication it is, but I don't care.Then toss it into my mouth, chew, and down the near shot-sized bit of water before a chemically-sour taste stains my tastebuds.Guess I'll change and try to look like a human instead of a bridge troll.
I must have been out for a long-ass time, because when I step out of my room, Elias’s shit is everywhere.
His jacket, go-bag, laptop, charger, notebook with a stack of files sit in the middle of the kitchen island along with one of my glasses—sticky from whiskey I know I didn't buy.nearby, and one of my glasses—sticky from whiskey I know I didn't buy--.
I bet there’s some good shit on there—his laptop and in the files, specifically.I can only imagine the type of people he protects and works around.We never really talk about it—I mean, why would we?Every conversation has been about me.
My heart squeezes with guilt.There's so much I don't know about him when he likely has everything about my life memorized down to the shape of my fingerprints.Who is he always talking to on the phone?Where did he deploy to?What does he do when he's not babysitting me?When does he go home to see people he cares about?How does he get to and from the West Coast so fast?Why doesn't he talk to me?
You know why.
A knot locks its way around my throat as tears sting my eyes.
Because I'm self-centered and think of no one but myself.He has no reason to share his life with me when I'ma job.That's all I was in the past, and keeping me whole is all I am now.I'm just the case that never ends and keeps his pockets full.
Is...is that why he's always here?Sure...surely not.My dad can't be paying him still, can he?Do they not want me so fucking bad that they hire someone to police me?!
I think I'm going to be sick, but I need to know.
Taking his seat, my fingers get to work waking his computer up.Color me shocked when it illuminates and there's a photo of his work logo as the backdrop.What strikes me as odd is the missing password.Does this man not have sensitive information sitting on this damn thing?I mean, if he cared that much, the files wouldn't be on the island next to it.
Irrelevant, Sadie, get with it.
Okay, okay.
I click on the web browser first and immediately hit the history to see what sites he visits most often.Mostly email, demographic websites, travel information, gun stores, and banking.Don't think I'll be getting into any of them—lack of hacking skills, unfortunately.Next up are his photo albums, nothing interesting there either.Screenshots of receipts, contacts, maps, file downloads that he put in the wrong place.
When I find nothing of use, I move on to the next folder: documents, videos, cases, receipts & expenses.His apps are useless too: video watcher, live streaming service, banking, clock, calendar, notes, and one that looks like a webcam icon from the mid 2000's.
And that's the one I click.Who the hell has an old ass icon like it on their laptop anyway?
