I pull the blanket up over my head, groaning as I do. Last night…bad idea, very bad idea. It’s not so much that I drank too much, which I did, but it’s the fact I stayed up late just so Lily could believe I went home with that guy I was ‘hitting on’. I wasn’t. I was pretending just to get her off my back. Now, I’ts not that she isn’t nice or, i guess, a friend of sorts, but…still. Sleeping with random guys? Not my definition of ‘fun’. How yesterday went from me teasing her about her little walk of shame to me having to go out with her that night, I have no idea.
I’m not sure how long i lay there before I, unwillingly, get up and sit on the edge of my bed. I don’t want to do stuff today. My head hurts…and the giant windows are not helping. When Lily is back in her apartment later, I am so totally banging on her door. With pots and pans. And wind chimes. And anything else loud I can think of. But what did I have to do today? I feel around on my bed for my phone. Gun under the pillow. Clothes I melted out of when I got home. Wallet on top of said clothes. Cat I adopted on my peacoat from Anis. I frown at the black cat, pick him up, and set him on the floor, ignoring his insulted look. It takes some moments, but I find my phone tangled in my blankets. No missed calls or texts or anything. Figures. But the date… February 16th. Fuck. I’m twenty-two today, aren’t I? Great. More reason to hide under my blankets and not leave this apartment.
I fling the traitorous phone over to the pile of soon-to-be-washed clothes on my floor, and flop back on my bed. Ugh. Can i just…not move today? I know, i have to. I have to work tonight and probably pillage and burn for the people who gave me this place.
Somehow I push myself back up into a sitting position and, jsut as I’m about to push off the bed, I pause, looking to the book on my bedside table. Suddenly I feel an ache in my heart. I do keep hoping that sooner or alter I’ll hear from him, but it was stupid to hope for that. Stupid for…a lot of reasons. In general, I’m stupid with everything when it comes to…him. Oh..fuck.. I wipe at my eyes, silently cursing myself for caring so damn much. I don’t care. I don’t. People come, people go. I’m used to it. I’m used to people thinking I stop existing soon as I’m out of sight. Doesn’t matter, it’s just the usual. I may have hoped it would be different with Anis, but…well, I don’t matter. All my life people haven’t cared much for what I do, where I go, or whatever. Adn they certainly don’t call me just to say ‘yo, I’m still alive.’ Everyone’s the same: some fucker that doesn’t matter. Easier that way for me, and for them.
But it still does hurt when I think about how I did hope he’d use that number.
I shake my head, even though that doesn’t help the pain there, and stand, jumping as my phone vibrates and lights up. I look down, pushing down the hope that does swell in me, and pick it up. “‘Ello?,” I answer.
“Ryleah, you may have off today since it’s your birthday, but tomorrow before work, we need you to go get rid of some more files,” a well-known, and by this point frustrating, male voice replies. I inwardly groan, but only agree, and listen for the details. Sometimes I wish I was a book or comic or something, since, if I was, today would be more than just run-of-the-mill.
Ryleah 