ONE WEEK LATER...
Running my hands through my hair, I stared at my face in the mirror.My hazelnut colored eyes looked dull compared to their once bright outlook and were framed by heavy eyelids above and dark circles below. My lips were dry, complexion sickly pale, and the frizz of my long, tangled hair made me feel like I'd really lost it. I need to sleep.
With a lift of the tap, I turned it to the right and moved my hands underneath the cold stream of water. Once it overflowed out of my hands, I leaned down and splashed my face, needing the wake-up call.
No. I'll stay up. I can't sleep.
Seven full days. That was all the amount of time needed for the police to rule the house fire as a faulty error in the fireplace that set the place ablaze and took my life and the life of my pet, Snix.
Seven days for them to wrap things up and have a very simple funeral with family only.
Seven days for everyone to stop posting on my wall.
Seven days is all it took for everyone to forget and move on.
Seven days I stayed in this room, watching it all on the television.
I didn't bother to turn my phone on. It wasn't like I had anyone to talk to. I'm dead, remember?
It wouldn't have been bad if I could sleep, but that was a whole other problem that was becoming more of a priority.
Since waking up that day in the hospital when I was 8 years old, I couldn't sleep alone. It was weird to explain why, but it just frightened me to the point that I couldn't sleep.
The doctors said it could have been due to a traumatic experience and a list of other issues I "apparently" could experience, but no medicine could help me out.
My ex-parents thought it would go away, and that I must have been doing it for attention, but after the 8th day of being awake and collapsing in the middle of the hospital hall, they realized I was being very serious.
That was when Snix entered my life. The nurse suggested that having a pet around me and to snuggle with me at night would help. It certainly changed everything, and even when Phillip entered my life, Snix always slept on the bed, even if it was at the end of the bed to keep me company.
Now she was gone, and I had no one to help push away my fears and tremors. I wouldn't last much longer without some much-needed sleep, but what was I going to do? Call a Cuddler? Not looking like this.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror once more reminded me that I'd stopped taking care of my appearance the moment I was "pronounced" dead. My mind knew it wasn't true, and something must have been planned for all this to occur, yet I couldn't convince myself that it was false.
I had barely eaten, consuming only a few crackers here and there and making sure I at least drank water. I was certainly going to lose all the muscles I'd been working on retaining the last couple of months, but at this point, did I really care? I was dead.
With strained effort, I lifted my hand and closed the tap and let my head hang low. What do I do now? Where do I go?
Turning away from the sink, I paced towards the bed. My body felt like it was weighed down, and I didn't know how long it would take before I really did pass out.
If I ended up in the hospital, that would be bad. Top news report: dead girl who burned in house fire turns up alive and is being treated at Sunny Hospital.
I laughed at the thought and shook my head before face planting onto the bed. The remote that was on the edge fell off, making a noise that caught my attention. I lifted my head slightly to see the lamp still in its place on the nightstand, appearing extra glorious with the sun shining through the little slip in the dark maroon curtains.
It almost looked like it was glowing, and I couldn't ignore its calling. Maybe this was one of those mirages, happening in my hotel room due to my delirious mind. After some mental debate, I caved and reached for the golden item that continued to taunt me. Took me a few unsuccessful attempts before I finally reached it.
Rolling onto my back, I raised the lamp up like I was presenting it to the ceiling as an offering.
Are there magic words or something? Circle of life? Nah, that was the Lion King. Eventually, my arms got tired and I turned to lay on my side. I stared at the lamp for a long time, wondering what I'd wish for.
To go back in time before this all occurred? No. I wouldn't be able to forget what those fakes did to me. Go back and burn the house while everyone was in it? Nah, that's too cruel and evil. I think this isn't even close to how Hell would be like. They're not worth eternal suffering.
I continued my internal debate, wondering what could have been the best wish to make. I could wish for grandma to come back? The thought was appealing, but then again, would I want my grandma going through the suffering she experienced before? She could have been enjoying Heaven with grandfather, the both of them playing golf or watching those theatrical soap opera shows they loved to watch together.
I can't do that to her. She'd be sad to return to this cruel world. I bet she's happy where she is.
Minutes turned to what felt like hours, and I couldn't think of anything. I was more exhausted than I was before, but sleep wouldn't take me. With a sigh, I hugged the lamp to my chest and pulled my legs up to my chest.
I began to cry again, feeling sorry for myself like I had all week. I thought about who my real family could have been. If I did have a real family, where did they go?
More importantly, why did they leave me? Was I a troubled child? Did they not want me to begin with? Who the hell am I? Where did I come from to land into this "perfect" family who could cast me away before I reached a quarter of the 100-year life I wished to obtain like Grandma.
"I wish to know who I am… where I really belong in this world. That's all I ask."
My voice was weak with no punch to it, but I didn't care. I said my wish and I'd already accepted that this lamp I cradled in my hand was merely what it appeared to be.
A lamp and not a magical item that could grant wishes.