Against the Universe

10 • grover

A/N: update 1 out of 2

tw for references to abuse and mental health issues

☽ ☽ ☽

Mum and I don't talk about our argument. I think she feels guilty though, because she keeps bringing platters of cut-up fruit to my room – the immigrant parent's classic peace offering.

But I feel guilty too, and it's been killing my appetite for the last few days. Currently a two-day-old bowl of cantaloupe wedges sits on my windowsill, attracting pesky fruit flies.

"What are you doing, man?" I say to Dinesh, the freakishly big spider who recently started living in the top corner of my ceiling. "You kill the flies, I let you stay here for free. That was our deal."

Dinesh makes no sign of having heard of me. Probably because he's a spider.

Aaaand I've lost it.

I consider sneaking into the kitchen to grab something small, just some brain fuel to stop me from descending into insanity even further, but the risk of running into someone is too high.

It doesn't matter. There's something strangely satisfying about being hungry.

I stay busy during my self-inflicted imprisonment by drowning myself in callisthenics, relishing the strain on my core, the emptiness in the pit of my stomach, the feeling of being strong and in control.

When I'm done, I lay on the floor for a few minutes while I recover. My breathing is shallow and the ceiling is spinning like a carousel, and my vision is filled with floating neon squiggles. The aftermath of an intense work out.

My eyesight is still disco-like as I'm walking to class the next day, blindly stumbling through the hallways and managing to narrowly avoid bumping into people. The whole experience makes me flashback to when I was 7 years old and my dad had rushed out to get something, leaving his private study unlocked. Even though I knew I wasn't supposed to go in I did it anyway, wandering around, tracing my finger along all the dusty book spines. I hadn't heard him come back, and when he caught me his voice had been so uncharacteristically calm and devoid of anger that I foolishly believed for a moment that I wasn't in any trouble, right before he slapped me so hard I was seeing black spots for the next half hour.

It takes an excessive amount of energy to stay upright, so I'm relieved when I can at last sit down. Madelyn comes in and says hi, although I can barely hear her thanks to a random episode of tinnitus. I say hi back, and fortunately she doesn't say anything after that because she's too preoccupied with going through her flashcards.

Mrs Gordon nods thoughtfully throughout everyone's presentations. I'm up last, and my partner, Sabeena, is a no-show. So I have to talk for twice as long as everyone else.

"Grover? Are you okay to do your presentation by yourself?"

"Yeah, no problem," I say. Let's be honest, I'll probably get a better mark by myself anyway.

"Alright," Mrs Gordon claps her hands together, "you're up."

Madelyn crosses her fingers and gives me a small smile as I get out of my chair. But I rise to a stand a little too fast, and suddenly the world becomes a blurry haze.

I lurch forward, resting my hands on the desk to try and stabilise myself a little. Mrs Gordon's asking me something, but I can't hear her very well. The sound travels strangely, like I'm underwater.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes." My chest constricts, collapsing in on itself like a dying star. "I'm fi–"