Page 33 of His Atonement
Bastard.
Then Zan got me back by covering my porch in raw meat, which attracted every fucking carnivorous or omnivorous animal for miles, including two goddamn coyotes, and I couldn't get back in my house for six hours. Thank god I like hiking. If I didn’t, I would have had to go back to the main house and come up with some sort of explanation for being there for so long at a weird time of day, but I wandered the property instead and found a few hidden treasures along the way.
And was finally able to get back into my house when I went home, just not until those critters ate every last bit of meat and licked the wood clean.
That earned him a family of goats in his weird dungeon room.
I wrangled seven of those adorable garbage disposals from Caldwell Farms—very humanely, I might add—then set them free at his place.
Before he found them, those critters managed to destroy most of his bedding, his mattress, made a real mess of the kitchen and raided his groceries.
Even though I wanted him to suffer, I still made sure the goats couldn't ruin anything that was important to Zan by turning around his book shelves so they were protected and added what very little else he might have valued to the shelves beforehand.
I was still pretty satisfied with how whipped he looked afterward, physically of course, because he didn't seem fazed otherwise, and maybe I fantasized about him fighting off wild beasts for me the next time I used one of his gifts with my battery operated boyfriend.
I feel like I'm definitely losing at our game.
As it stands right now, Zan has yet to get me back.
My last prank played out Wednesday night and then I went full blown psycho Thursday and haven't been to the main house since.
And what's really fucked up about all that is the fact that I actually miss him.
I miss our pranks.
Miss our coded banter.
The crazy hot sexual tension between us.
The mixed signals I swear Zan gives me, one minute angry or unfazed by whatever stunt I pulled, the next giving me these looks like he wants to spread me out on the table and have me for his next meal, or how he almost seems to look at me like he's seeking my approval or something.
I don't get it, not at all, but what I do know for a fact is that I actually miss him and I don't know what to make of that either.
I mean seriously, how can you miss someone you've known less than two weeks?
And it sure as fuck isn't helping with my depression.
Depression.
Depression.
Depression.
"I'm going to try to get up and move around today. Nothing too intense but I'm worried if I don't I'll end up with severe dystonia and that won't help anything either. I also finally have a little bit of an appetite so I'm probably going to attempt toast and a banana or something." I push myself into a seated position, and grunt way more than I'd like while I do it.
"To be totally honest, because that's what this is all about, I've had more thoughts about just laying in this bed until I drift off to sleep and never wake up than I have since I was first diagnosed. I know that's extreme, I know it's unhealthy, and I know it's because my brain is gradually losing more and more…" I struggle to find the word while I search my vocabulary. "Of its normal function, but that's why I've been entertaining such dark thoughts. If I lose the ability to do what I love, to take pictures or engage in conversations with my cousin, enjoy spending time with my nieces, hang out with my friends old and new, then what's the point of being here at all?" I sigh, and push a hand back through my hair.
"But I can't think like that, not yet anyway. I have to keep going, try to do what Granny made me promise and live my life the best I can while there's time. I haven't even made that much of a dent in my bucket list yet, so I need to get my shit together or else I'll leave behind a life full of regret. And that shit isn't fair to Granny or me. Ok. That's all for now. Catch ya on the flip."
I drop my phone on the bed next to me and scrub my hands over my face, realize that I'm actually feeling pretty decent save for my mood, then get to my feet. Once I'm steady, I pad my way to the kitchen, pop some bread into the toaster and start a cup of coffee. While it brews I fire up my laptop and check the cloud, pull up the video I just made in my editing software then I remember the knock on my door.
Obviously whoever it was didn't stick around, probably gave up pretty quickly when I didn't answer, especially if it's the same person that's been knocking the last few days.
I grab my kimono from the hook next to the door, my favorite one that I got when I went to Japan, then part the curtain and peek out the small window.
No one's there.
Nobody at all, but when I look down at the porch I see a stack of boxes.
