PAPER HEARTS

22

Four and a half hours pass by as quickly as the flash of lightning, most of it crawling away with me sinking into the comforter with my eyes sealed and my mind wide open. My fingers twist the blankets around, my entire body numb with confusion.

I find myself tossing and turning around, my sweat feeling burdensome under the thick sheets that suffocate my skin. Despite my eyes being open for quite some time, I fail to understand the origins of the fresh scent of lime leaves that's invading my nostrils, and the pictures of my surroundings.

I squeeze them shut, pulling the covers off whilst forcing my thoughts to replay back to whatever moments from last night has led me to this. A boy, heart-shaped lips, ramen, and beer comes to mind and I jolt awake with widened eyes, pressing my hands around my lower body impulsively. My shoulders fall in relief when they find the rough material of my jeans and I look over to the table, over which a lamp and a tall glass of water accompanied by some pills wait to greet me. A tube of toothpaste and a single stick of a brand new tooth-brush stand inside the plastic glass, and I reach for it with narrowed eyes.

With burning cheeks and a throbbing head, I slide off the foreign bed and blink my eyes back to focus on the belongings crowding the packed room. I find my bag sitting beside the bed, and my thickly padded jacket is draped over it. I allow my feet to land on the pleasantly cold floorboards with a silent thump and grab my things, confusion chasing me.

It doesn't take me long to find my way into the cramped bathroom and get myself to wake up.

I feel my heart begin to race out of fear when I realize that this isn't somewhere I should remotely be. Did I get on with a guy, last night?

The door to this room creaks open slowly, only a slight crack of yellow light forms a stripe on the floor and a little girl stands, clutching the doorknob. She freaks out when our eyes meet, following her reaction with a soft, excited giggle, and pulls the door to a loud shut before running away.

I frown. "What -"

With a quizzical expression on my face, I fold the blankets neatly, place them over the simple bedding before grabbing my things and walking out. It feels as if my heart would be so ready to climb up my chest and into my mouth any minute now.

A warm, homely aroma wafts along the corridor and I step closer to the minuscule voices apprehensively.

"Daddy, daddy!" I hear a very loud, very feminine whisper break through the silence. After that, a shrill whistle from the traditional cooker muffles her voice and I trip over my shoelace and my identity comes to a grand reveal.

The guy, and his companion, both look at me, surprised by my sudden arrival and I look at them with widened eyes and raised eyebrows, "Wait, I -"

Feeling gutted, I purse my lips reluctantly. The room begins to spin, and I'm starting to feel sick again. It feels as if I'd just stumbled off a merry-go-round that's been spinning with high momentum, and the aftermath of being on it hadn't worn off, just yet. I cup a hand over my lips, breathing heavily as I lean my other against the nearby wall for support.

"Oh!" an unrecognizable voice greets me, "You're awake, we were just making breakfast. Feel free to join us!" A pause follows, "A-are you okay?"

It tires me. Just those three words, four syllables that are meant to branch out and guard you with the feelings of concern - that you're cared for, and not going to struggle alone any further. But it makes me tired, listening to them over and over again. Hearing everyone say that they're genuinely worried, but then all they want to hear is my claims of being totally fine.