The Curse of Created (The Donor #2)

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Chapter 12: Elementary, my dear Watson

It seemed to me that I took the elementary teachings of Christianity to the whole new level. My guardian angel must have placed a note of resignation to the Big Guy when he or she saw me not just loving thy enemy platonically but also sleeping with thy enemy in a rather physical and horizontal fashion.

As soon as my mind was unleashed from the spell, Lys’ buns put me in; I sprinted toward the familiar double door. My boobs were only just turning still when I slammed the door of my once adjoining bathroom. The nausea of sudden movements came knocking with a vengeance, and I spewed my guts into the toilet.

“Are you done? How are you feeling?” A voice echoed in my blank mind as if it was a memory and I saw a flash of Ly standing in the doorway with a concerned expression while in his palms was a wet, white rag that had been disturbed with bright green patches of my vomit stains.

“Just fine and dandy, like anyone who is going to soon flush their stomach toward gutter town.” My memory self with a hoarse voice replied and the image faded with Ly giving half a pitting expression and half condescending look.

I was currently buried with my head so deeply in the toilet that I resembled an Ostrich that was visibly neck-deep in the sand, but Lys’ looks he gave me in the memory haunted me. Once I trusted myself not to paint the tiles with my vomit, I stood up and caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked as horrible as I felt, I could switch my species from human to scarecrow with ease if I felt an inclination toward it.

Besides my blatant nakedness, my usual golden skin had a greenish-grey tinge to it, as if I was dead for longer than a week. My eyes were so hooded and puffy that I was certain they would surely be infected by something if I stayed just one night up longer than usual. The hair, my God, the hair. Medusas’ snakes looked tame in comparison to it.

“This might be the biggest explosion a backfiring plan had ever made onto someone.” My face was similar to that of an subject in a painting by Edvard Munch: The Scream. Perhaps I could even replace the person and have the picture renamed as; The Scream: A Testament to The Morning After a Pub Crawl. It seemed rather suitable in my current state.

Seeing my eyes narrow in anger in my mirror image, it almost made me afraid of what I was going to say. “You,” I menacingly looked onto the reflection with disgust that you give to something overly nasty. “You just had to get so much booze into you while misbehaving so badly that Karma decided to intervene and make you look like a total skank.” Poking at my face in the mirror with such a vigour that my finger was turning white, I accused in a condescending tone. “Since when do I sleep with the people I hate, hmmm?” Nothing came as a reply, just me staring at me. “Well! Am I doing all the talking here? What can you say for yourself?” After a silence that could rival the deathly silence of Egyptian tombs, I sighed. “Being an adult sucks.”

I probably sucked something else too.

Supernova like blush made me crouch and hug my knees while my face was buried in between. I was so deeply ashamed of my actions that I wasn’t even bothered that I was still naked as the day I was born. What a Hypocrite am I. the Hypocrites himself was dethroned last night with a massive tumble down the pedestal stairs.

“I’m going to die from the embarrassment.” Groaning into my knees, I had a small wish for that actually to happen; things would be so much easier if it would come true. Feeling the hot warmth my cheeks made against my arms, I buried my face deeper, shutting the world away. “Ly probably wouldn’t care if I died. Hell, he would throw a party in the honour of the occasion.”

As soon as I uttered the sentence, a feeling of Déjà vu reappeared, and a voice whispered from the depths of my conciseness into my ear. Lys’ voice bubbled up and resurfaced.

“I am the only one who does. I protected you from every single Stainless and Created since you left.”

I shook my head as if I were a wet dog that just came from the rain, which was a not so bright of an idea. The room spun in a very unfun way. Was it possible that tinnitus wasn’t just an imaginary high-pitched sound but could also manifest as a voice? Yet it seemed real like Ly honestly said those words to me. Had he protected me? And if so, why had he decided to admit that to me now? The trust issues I developed because of him were signalling the alarm bells with a feverish warning to not fall for it.

Were my memories gradually returning after yesterdays’ booze fest?

It was too much too fast, and with a slow tug at the edge of the bathroom sink, I lifted myself while determined to put a stop to the crazy. “I need a shower.” I felt icky and, well, dirty, and that was not just from the emptying of the stomach. The thoughts of Ly and I making the nasty made me want to scrub my skin red; however, underneath was a jealous little green gremlin that desired to recall his touches. To make that feeling go away, I whacked myself on the skull with a shower-head.

The cold water pounding against my skin as if it were hard rain. It made the sensation purifying for me. And in the current state of clarity, I thought about Ali and the accusations she made yesterday. My anger was present still; however, it was diluted with the sadness of the possibility of losing a friend. With the forehead, I touched the pleasantly cool tiles and sighed, the headache was subsiding with the feeling. I felt myself growing more awake and a bit better even though the hangover sickness was still looming over me. Perhaps I was still in the state of miserable aftereffect; although I celebrated the little victory in the long waging war against the alcohol withdrawal in my system. Once I thoroughly shampooed my hair, the conditioner was direly in need for my poor, frizzled hair. Lifting my face toward the pouring shower-head while the smile slightly played on the corners of my mouth, I relished at the feeling of the water slowly washing away the products in my hair while it rejuvenated my face. It was pure bliss.

Then the horseshoe of a memory kicked me with the full force. It was like someone fast played the scene in my head while I absorbed the critical elements of it. The sensation of sickness returned as did the nasty headache.

Ly was sitting on a bed while I was pretending to be a drunk potato and thinking nonsense while listening to him say: “Probably because I’m relying on you forgetting it…”

“What the actual fuc-” Not being careful enough, I stepped on the soap bar that slipped through my fingers, then stepped on it and collided with the tiles behind me, although the pain went entirely over my head. I was in such shock that only when I my bare ass sat on the cold basin, my mind registered I was in a different position. Watching the soap spinning slowly to a stop, I heard a second voice in my head.

“Dess haven’t you thought about anything I had told you? Figured out nothing?”

Alis’ questions were spinning around as if they were a record on repeat while every once in awhile Lys’ sentence made a loud appearance. Together they created a dissonant sound that hurt my ears and made me unable to think correctly.

“How am I supposed to know and understand, if you two give me nothing but rubbish. Then act like it was all my imagination and be rude to me.” My emotional outburst resonated on the tiles while the water muffled it with its’ staccato rhythm. “Taking Jeremy from me and our freedom to be forced here. And here I’m being advised not to be biased. Bull shit!” Grabbing the bar of soap, I threw it at the tiled wall which bounced off it easily and was sliding all over the wet shower floor for a while making bubbles pop all over. It was as if my emotional state brought Ali and her words back.

“Let me illuminate you; not everything is about you, Dess! And if you started to observe more and let your head out of the emotional pit, you would see it!”

“Observe? What do you want me to observe? Emotional abuse? Playing cat and mouse?” Grumbling, I was glad that the shower was still on, it was preventing undesirable eavesdroppers. I looked like a tragically dejected person; with my knees pressed to my chest, sitting butt-naked while drawing circles on the wet floor with my finger. I couldn’t see the exit out of this whole dilemma. Sure, I had made a splash with my alcoholic display; however, sooner than later, Ly will have to feed again. It was sort of a blessing that I didn’t remember it. He showed me last time that he could do so even forcefully if he wished it. Ly had the strength and the character to do it as well.

I leaned backwards, letting the back of my head rest on the wall with my eyes closed, while the water was still running, dripping away. With a sigh, I relaxed, letting the nothingness wash over me. I don’t know if it was the state of Zen that I was in, or the ability to perceive nothingness, nonetheless, whatever it was, it made a path for recollection.

“Damn it; Ali was supposed to give you clues so that you could connect the dots without us blowing the cover.”

And at that moment, as the voice of Ly echoed in my mind, I blankly stared at the tiles, seeing nothing. The words were slowly dying out, yet my thoughts were like crashing waves, growing over seven feet high as they slammed into the rocks which obstructed their path. The dots were connecting, the sentences matched as well as their secretive exchanging looks. Ly and Ali had cards up their sleeves. Until they revealed them, I won’t know in whose favour they were.

“Ali was right. My emotions are hindering my vision.” Whispering low so that the water could muffle my words, I groaned defeated. It was hard to admit you were wrong when you were not precisely in the wrong. However, the conserning circumstances were dictating to do something completely different from my emotions.

It was time to take up a box in my mental storage, take these angry, seething and resentful emotions and neatly fold them in for later use. The hardest one to fit in was the anger and embarrassment I had felt this morning; it needed an extra push and elbow grease to shove it in its’ place. As I did so, with the help of several deep breaths, I locked the sentiments away and put them on their designated shelf. Then I mentally scribbled on the side of the brown carton box with a dark red, glow-the-dark marker; Danger and Combustible.

It was time to scout out the elementary I have missed on the first try. To cast aside being an emotion-driven companion Watson and become the cold and perceptive Sherlock Holmes; silly hat and pipe included. Be the Nancy Drew and sniff out the misdeeds and transgressions of others. To uncover the haunting mystery that was human-made in a way Scooby-Doo and the gang would. I will need to test the Hypothesis in a way that when all attempts to discredit it failed, it would mean that the only thing left will be the truth. That was the way hardcore researchers constructed their discoveries to come to the truthful and credible answers, and I needed them, not the constant lies that hindered my path so far.

I am going to lock away my emotions and become unbiased to observe. But that doesn’t mean I will forget nor forgive.

So, what had I known that was an undoubtful truth so far? One; that Ly and Ali had a common goal in mind, and they were working together. Two; that while I was away, the speculations of my implication in the Attack soared among Created and Stainless alike. Three; Ly was protecting Jeremy. Four; I needed to be wary of Richard since he was Andrey’s fanboy, and even though he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the Chandelier, he still wasn’t any less dangerous. And five; that I will never drink that amount of alcohol again, it always leads to some sort of personal disaster.

Perhaps Ly was continuing to rely on my alcoholic forgetfulness to mix his potion of lies unnoticed and undisturbed in a witchy cauldron; however, I was going to pick apart each secret until I was satisfied with the answer no matter how absurd it would end up being.

With a massive sigh, I slowly stood up, careful not to slip on the wet tiled floor and break my neck before I got even close to the truth. Lys’ voice swam to the surface again, and a snipped of a memory came back again after yesterdays events.

I could hear the thundering shower, which he turned on to the max. It was as if he was trying to deep clean me not just on the outside but on the inside as well.

“Careful! You will break your neck, Dess.” Ly cautiously spread his arms wide in a protective manner; they could almost touch the opposite sides of the walls. He resembled a basketball player who tried to block the opposing party from passing the ball. Ly was definitely not trusting my drunken state not to take a tumble.

I had no clue how he got me out of my clothes but being naked and full of whiskey, wine and who knows what made me not care. It was probably also my weakened state, after the emotion of vomit volcano from my mouth cavity, that made me indifferent to modesty at the moment.

My drunken and not so very coherent voice filled his bathroom. “Oh, shut up, you overprotective bastard,” As my feet touched the wet, slick surface, the suspicions of Ly the Nostradamus came to pass.

“I told you so.” He muttered as he caught me within his arms.

My back was against his bare chest. It felt like a stone wall behind me; it was certainly cold enough. Imagine what it would feel like to be pressing my arms against it as I climaxed. The lust-filled Gremlin Dess emerged as the alcohol broke her leash sometime in the night having inappropriate thoughts against the enemy.

“Don’t get any dirty thoughts,” I reprimanded myself out loud yet allowed to be still pressed against him in oh-so not reasonable manner.

Ly sighed; the tiredness evident in his voice as he supported my body. “The puke on you prevents me from doing so.” Which was right; the fabric of the boxers he wore wasn’t restraining anything back. He was a limp noodle.

“You won’t do something to act revenge upon me in the morning? The last time I was punished just for pulling on your hair with the work out from Hell.” The memories of him being a complete douche after my first party at the Camaraderie were still making me full of sour feelings. “Scratch that even the Devil wouldn’t be able to be that mean as you were then.”

“You puked on me twice.” I felt the vibrations of his chuckle as he washed off the soap bubbles from my body. “I’m in the right to get some justice for that.”

The green vomit liquid was slowly going down the drain, and I watched it, mesmerised for a moment as it swirled then disappeared into the intriguing sewage system. Then slowly recalling what Ly said moments before, I exclaimed in a drunkenly loud voice. “My God! If I don’ remember shit in the morning, be a lamb and try not to pull my leg by telling me we had sex.”

Ignoring my exclamation, Ly helped me dry off, and when I stumbled again, he (with a deep sigh of irritation) lifted me all snuggled up in the plush white towel.

As we were making our way toward his bed, I muttered half knocked out by my overindulgence and half asleep by being tired of vomiting. “It probably won’t even work on me; I might be drunk but I ain’t senile.”

The last thing I heard before I was out cold was Lys’ words, “I won’t make any promises, Dess.”

The explosion of my curses was thankfully somewhat muffled by the still running shower. With an overly aggressive push against the pipe, the water stopped, and the image I caught of myself in the mirror reminded me of a demon who had just risen from hell to wreak the world of humanity with infernal flames she brought as her companions of doom. The box in which I was able to restrain my feelings rattled and smoke started to erupt from it, threatening to combust.

Taking deep breaths full of warm misty air eventually calmed me, after half an hour of constant bickering in my mind between the Hulk Dess and Rational Dess, the latter eventually won.

“That cheeky bugger.” Muttering with my body still wet, my small smile quieted the rattling box of emotions, making a small promise to them that soon I will have my vengeance. But first came first.

“The game is on.” As I stepped into the familiar room that I once called my own, nausea returned as did the headache when the sun shone too brightly for my taste. “Yeah, we will need to postpone the game for a day.” When somewhere above me, the sound of slamming door made me wince, I added, “Or two.”

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