Eliona's War 1: Hesitant Healer

Chapter 8

Later that night, Seth sat on the gray carpet of his living room, elbows propped up on the coffee table. It was the only piece of furniture in the main area of his apartment, and with the pile of boxes gone, the entire place felt even emptier.

From where he sat, he could see into the kitchen. There was an empty space where the table would have gone, with worn brown laminate floor marred with scratches and stains. The countertop wasn't much better. Only a grandmother would appreciate the beige marbled look. Even the appliances were the old yellowed veterans that continued plodding along past the lifespan of their original owners.

When choosing an apartment, Uncle Fenn had gone with the cheapest, but Seth didn't mind. He knew that Fenn had only paid the rent for the first six months, and that eventually the responsibility of paying for it would fall on his own shoulders.

You'll have to get a job, Fenn had told him. Once you get settled in and adjusted, of course. It doesn't have to be anything crazy, but just something to help pay the bills. There's a gas station, a Subway and a little mall within walking distance. You can find work there, I'm sure.

Seth rubbed at his eyes. He knew he couldn't rely on Fenn to pay for everything forever, but just the thought of approaching strangers and asking for a job terrified the daylights out of him. It was one thing in a game where it was all pretend and the people weren't real, but in reality? What if he made a fool of himself? There was a chance he'd run into those people again someday, and they'd recognize him as the dumb kid who couldn't even walk across the street without tripping on his face.

He groaned, and flopped onto the table. The wood felt slightly sticky against his face, but he didn't care.

A job. Ha. Like he'd even manage to hold one, never mind find one. At least he had a few months yet. He could worry about that later. For now though, he'd bask the glow of having his own space. Who cared if it was small and outdated and smelled a little funny? It was quiet, and it was his.

He sighed against the table. It still didn't feel real. None of this did. It was like a miraculous dream, one that felt fragile enough to shatter at any moment. This whole day felt like an extension of that dream.

Mrs Beakor was nice, if not a little unhinged, but the lasagna she had made was hands down the best food he'd ever tasted. Four layers of meat sauce, noodles, and gooey cheese—he'd practically devoured half the dish before he even realized what he'd done.

She'd only cackled and sent the leftovers home with him.

Seth lifted his head, checking out his kitchen once more. The refrigerator hummed quietly. It was no longer was entirely empty, for it now housed his precious breakfast. He smiled.

Maybe he'd run into Mrs Beakor again sometime in the future.

His phone on the table lit up, and the sound of croaking frogs filled the apartment. His gaze shot to the phone. Scowling fiercely, he slapped a hand over it.

"Why frogs?" he demanded after he picked it up.

"Why not," came his uncle's amused reply. "Frogs are cool."

"They are not," Seth retorted. "Stop changing my ringtone."

Fenn laughed. "I thought you might like that one."

Seth rolled his eyes. No one in their right mind would enjoy that awful noise blasting at them every time the phone rang. Not only that, what if he'd been in a public place? He'd die of embarrassment.

"Yeah, right. It's worse than the cow one. Why can't you pick music or something like a normal person?"

"Who wants to be normal? Normal is boring."