The Last Wish

22. Cockroaches? Cockroaches.

Matt woke up with an undesirable ache in the back of his head. Inflicted with the thoughts of the inevitable, the murder, the haunting thoughts, neverending, forming a halo around him like an eternal doom.

As if it weren't enough, a despicable laugh, high-pitched and weird, was clouding his mind, he tried to block it out but to no avail his trick worked.

Contrasting to his gloomy mood, the sky was a hue of bright blue with the west sky sprayed with a little violet, the remaining of last night's glory, a few waning stars scattered like mild dew. But this was Matt's last thought, he just wanted to get over with this day, despite the morning having just begun.

The croak-like laugh, sneering and mocking, hadn't stopped still, making him think he was in some weird dream or that stress had atlast worned him out to the point of hearing insane voices. Ignoring it, he went to the bathroom, did his usual routine, changed to something decent and left for breakfast.

The despicable laugh got louder as he entered the living room. And what lay in front of him made him mentally face-palm, realising how foolish he had been. The huge flat screen looming over the front wall, displayed an animated series of 3 bloody cockroaches in multi coloured skin, laughing and giggling and sneering, pointing at him, or least that's how it felt.

From his line of sight, a head resting on the sofa was shaking in a fit of hysteria, brown tousled hair flailing in all directions. He immediately recognized the gaiety brunette, cuddled into a thick blanket.

He walked forward, but not enough to make her realize his presence. From the looks, she must have scoured the whole kitchen, checking pantry cupboards in and out for food. The huge square coffee table was splattered with all sorts of food, some that he didn't even know was in his house. A huge carton of milk, lid open, was at the verge of falling, laying on the edge of the table. He walked towards it, kept it on the centre, revealing himself to the now gleeing girl.

"What the Hell is goin' on here?" he said, arms crossed.

"Good morning to you too, Matt," her eyes were glued to the TV.

Matt puffed, "what the Hell is this?"

"Cartoon," she said, still not looking.

"No shit," he deadpanned.

She didn't reply, laughed. Annoyed, he grabbed the remote control and switched it off.

"Hey!" she protested. "It was the climax, don't be mean."

He snorted as a reply.

"C'mon now."

No reply.

"Please."

Still, no response.

"Pweeeeeease."

He looked at her, bemused. She was so childish, like he was a big daddy who would easily fall for him daughter's play. So he switched it on and she smiled in victory.

Seeing such a smile, naive, genuine somehow calmed him in a way he had no words to explain. It was like spotting an oasis, small and trivial, in a dead land of sand and dunes, the last solace for the thriving thirsty traveller. Clinging to the little hope of light, his feet would writhe forward, towards the oasis but only to find it a mere mirage.

"Take a seat Matt," she said, unmoving. "No need so much respect."

He scoffed, all the same plopped down on the couch next to hers, his back sinking into the cushion.

"Bad times?" she asked, her face dimming to a frown. He nodded with an eye roll. It was such a simple talk, as if they were age-long friends, just having the morning pep talks.