Blame it on our Fates

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Song of the day : Skyscraper by Demi Lovato

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  Sleep. It was the only way to relax and distress one's body and mind from the tyranny of stress and depression. It relaxed your soul and freshened you up for the next day. Sleep had never been a problem for me, at all. I was such a deep sleeper, that once I got to bed, I would be asleep in the next five minutes. I slept like a baby, honestly. But for the first time in my life of 17 years, sleeping didn't come easy to me. Something that was indecipherable for me was how sleeping was causing some painful stirring in my head, making me want to stop sleeping.  I opened my eyes, but closed it immediately because of heavy, white lights.

     The light penetrating my vision was blinding and I felt like staring at it for straight one minute could turn me into a blind woman.

   I squinted and peered my eyes, trying to adjust to the light. My pupils would have contracted due to the excessive light invading it's comfort.

   Ahh! The perks of being a nerd! Couldn't even frame a sentence without bringing in the geeky knowledge.

  I tried to cover my eyes with my hand, but my hand didn't budge. I turned my head to see what was stopping by hand and saw those transparent tubes connected to the veins of my fist. I frantically looked around, trying to remember what had happened before happened. That's when it hit me. Running away from the funeral, standing in the middle of the road and those sea green colored orbs looking at me, blacking out.

  I looked away from my hand and saw my dad sitting on the stool near the bed. His face held in his hands and his body was quivering slightly. That's when I realized he was crying. Small uneven amount of breaths were escaping his lips whose sound was muffled by his hands. He hadn't noticed that I was awake and watching him. He was still in the same outfit as the funeral, just his blazer was haphazardly placed on his knees.
I tried to move my hand forward and place it gently on his shoulder. He suddenly shot up as he didn't know it was me. When he shot up off the stool, I took a good look at him. His eyes were bloodshot and his face tear - stained. Bags hovering his hazel black eyes that I and Mark inherited and his lip trembling. I could see in his eyes, he was trying hard not to break down in front of me.

  "Cade!" He exclaimed as he gently took my hand and continued, "Are you okay honey?" He asked, and I didn't have much of energy so I simply nodded.

  He suddenly stood up and said, "I should go and call the doctor." He was just about to leave when I grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice breaking up in uneven rasps. My dad quickly hovered over the side table and brought a glass of water to my lips. I drank it greedily.

  His lips pressed in a thin line. He clearly didn't want to answer, I could see that.

"Well, Cade, the doctor told me that you haven't been eating proper food for the past week and as a result, to put up with metabolism, your body lost almost all the glucose and sugar. Why haven't you been eating?" He asked sternly as he placed his hands on his hips and raised his one brow.

   I started laughing nervously, and tried to change the topic but he wouldn't let me. My dad didn't know the fact that I didn't eat anything as he never came out of his room, well even I never used to. But Aunt Becca would always barge into my room, trying to shove food down my throat but I wouldn't budge.

"Well...." I tried to come up with some excuse to avoid his scolding but couldn't come up with any.

  He sighed as he placed his hand on top of mine. I looked at him and saw his eyes holding pain, and so many raw emotions that I couldn't decipher. But the only emotion that I saw: was that regret? Or was it guilt? Some how he managed to show both of these emotions through his eyes.