I was strumming my guitar when the edges of my fringes brushed against my eyelids and made me realize two things: my hair was growing long and I needed a haircut; and my eyes were getting tired and I needed to take a break. So I put the guitar in my lap and secured it between the handles of my wheelchair and my arms, starting to move back towards the house. But when I turned around and saw Ryder leaned against the door frame watching me, I stopped stuck in my track.
I remembered the time our team went camping. At night we all sat around this huge bonfire while telling stories, joking around and simply getting wasted. Then the boys started talking about girls and I retreat to an empty tree trunk where I took out my guitar and started playing an old love song. I sang it with my thoughts flying to Simon. We had just gotten together a few months before and that was the first time I had left him for so long. I was so in love with him at that time. I remembered how much I ached to take my phone and text him. But I had no connection. So instead I started playing another love song. I was so caught in it that I barely registered when Ryder sat next to me, smoking on his cigarette and staring up at the moon. We looked at each other for a moment… then I continued my song and he continued singing and the night passed in a comfortable silence.
That had been one of the few peaceful moments between the two of us.
Now I felt like I almost went back in time. But back then I had two working legs and dignity. Having Ryder see me like this made me feel a burst of emotions… from shame to rage, nostalgia,and finally pity… for myself, for what I used to have and used to be and what I had become.
I sighed, moving past Ryder who closed the door behind me and followed. Then I made my way to my room and entered in silence, placing my guitar next to the door and proceeding to go to the bathroom. But something felt quite odd so I spun around and searched my room. What I saw made my eyes widen and jaw drop at the ground.
My room… my room was clean!! There were no clothes on the floor, no tangled chargers and headphones on my nightstand, no socks on the desk and my… my stinky cheese was nowhere to be seen!
I flamed in rage, feeling my nostrils widen with each breath I took. And the one responsible for all of this was standing behind me, with his arms crossed around his chest and shoulder leaned against the door frame.
“What did you do?!”
“I cleaned your room.”
“No shit, Sherlock! I can see that, but who gave you permission to touch my things?”
“No one. This room was messy; you were busy with your guitar so I took freedom to clean it.”
I was about to snort in indignation but then my eyes widened and I threw a quick glance towards the wardrobe. Fortunately, I saw my clothes folded in a pile over the desk which meant Ryder hasn’t opened it.
“Whatever.” I said, grabbing the door handle dismissively. “I wanna be left alone. You can go and destroy the rest of the house for all I care. Don’t call me until lunch is ready.”
Without waiting for an answer I closed the door, scarcely sneering when Ryder groaned in pain most likely being hit in the shoulder or better! in that annoying face of his by the door . But I didn’t have time to cheer on his misfortune as I had to rush towards the wardrobe and pull the doors open hastily.A blue floral hairpin and a hoodie were the only things inside. They were the only things I was left from two people who once had been very important in my life. Now the memories of those people were coffined in a dark, hidden room in my mind… just like these two objects.
I sighed, closing the wardrobe and moving towards the bed with idle moves. Then I dragged my body inside the covers and took my phone from the wardrobe, trying to distract my mind with videos and social media… but it didn’t work so I just let my arms fall over my chest and stared up at the ceiling, unaware of when or how I fell asleep.
Ryder’s voice was the one to wake me up hours later. He was leaned over me, one of his palms holding my shoulder and shaking it softly.
“Carter, wake up. Dinner is ready.”
I grumbled, shaking Ryder’s palm away and sitting up. Then, focusing better on my surroundings, I took in the boy’s appearance and snickered, offering him one of my best mocking grins. He rose a challenging brow at me which I responded with a simple shrug. When he turned I followed him slowly, still looking him up and down and secretly admiring how good he looked in an apron despite being over 6 and a half feet tall and an absolute asshole. But hey, a man can appreciate a nice view.
Unfortunately, once we reached the kitchen Ryder took off his apron and turned his back to me, starting to clean a couple of pans and spoons while I sat myself at the table. On the table were sat two plates filled with steaming, delicious looking food which made my stomach rumble despite not being hungry. I took a fork and with it and attentive bite of the food, feelings my taste buds burst into an explosion of senses.
“Fuck, this is good!” I muttered, cursing myself when Ryder turned around, a smug grin plastered on his face.
“I know. I made it.” He said, wiping his wet hands on a towel and sitting down at the table where he took out his phone and started typing. Who he could talk with I didn’t know. Ryder’s nasty personality had made him because a high school outcast. But at the same time, his bad boy reputation made him pretty popular with the girls so if he had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t be too astonished.
I swallowed my food, pointing my fork at Ryder.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?”
Ryder remained concentrated on his phone for a few moments before looking up at me, his eyes still not focusing on mine.
“What was that?”
“Aren’t you gonna eat with me?”
Ryder frowned. Then I think he finally registered what I said and shook his head with a smirk.
“Very thoughtful of you Carter, but I don’t want to die yet. You see, I’ve poisoned your food.”
I spit the food in my mouth back in the plate, pushing the ceramics away from me.
“Kiss my ass, Morris!”
Ryder chuckled, turning his attention back to his phone with a lazy shake of his head. When he didn’t acknowledge my existence anymore I started eating again, knowing that he was joking and that I couldn’t waste such a good food even if it was poisoned.
But despite my calm exterior, inside I was boiling. Ryder was the same cold, despicable person I hated for the past eight years and I would do everything I was capable of in order to take rid of him. If I didn’t succeed to persuade him then I would make his life a living hell and make him resign.
With this in mind I rolled my wheelchair towards Ryder and snatched his phone, making sure to turn it off.
“What the-“
“Listen here, Ryder, because I will nor repeat it twice. You have two choices: you resign; I will help you to find another job, I will even offer you the payment my parents give you for an entire month… but you never-and I mean never- come back to work as my caregiver again.”
I slammed Ryder’s phone on the table, faced down, and then closed the space between the two of us.
“Or I will torment you every moment of the day and night. I will make your life here unbearable… then when you go home and think ‘Finally, I am free’ I will call you, send you messages, blow your fucking social media with comments until you will have to turn off your phone. And if you block me, I will make myself new accounts. And if you block my number I will buy myself another one. And if you discard your phone I will fucking send you so many letters, your mailbox will fucking burst! I have a lot of free time, Ryder. Torturing you could become my entertainment.”
I took one deep breath then smirked.
“This if you don’t leave this house before my parents come back.”
Ryder’s decision ignited not a fight, but a full raging war… between me and his patience, his iron clad nerves.Three days and twenty-three episode of "Chandralekha" had passed since Ryder had officially become my caregiver and I’ve tried to annoy, bully, even to constipate him into resigning. Every method had been unsuccessful. But I didn’t give up because no matter how patient Ryder was, I was tenfold more determined to get rid of him. "How does she still talk with a bullet in her head?"
You would believe one would be more lenient with their disabled child… not my parents. My phone, laptop, ipad and guitar got confiscated for two weeks, I couldn’t watch TV, nor use my xbox, and they denied buying me any snacks. They were treating me like a little child getting grounded for punching his middle school classmate. It wasn’t me who told Ryder to climb on the roof or to get scratched on his cheek. My only fault was that I left muddy trails on the carpet after entering the house with my dirty wheelchair. But again, I think my fathers’ goal was not to punish me, but rather to make me “bond” with Ryder. After they told me that “You act like a little kid, you get punished like one”, my dad also implied that now when I had no distractions, I might get to know Ryder better and actually befriend him.
Monday, at seven in the morning, we were already in the car on the way to the capital of the country where my cousin and her family lived. I was sitting in the passenger seat with my head leaned against the window and the seatbelt placed under my armpits and around my chest, due to it rubbing my neck and irritating my skin. Ryder was humming the song playing at the radio, his hands stuck on the steering wheel and his eyes fixed on the road. From time to time he would turn his head, stealing subtle, not so subtle stares at me. Per total, it was a nicely comfortable drive.This until Ryder
One more hour on the road and we reached Kathy's home. She lived in an apartment building, in a penthouse which had this huge pool outside its equally huge living room. I remembered her old flat had the kitchen, living room and bedroom all in one. They bought all the things they had now after her husband, Greg, signed a contact with a famous magazine as a photographer, although I doubt it was the contract and not some trickery which brought him all those money. Greg was known for having a gambling dependence, but I guessed it mattered to Kathy only when her husband lost, not when he won. Then she turned oblivious to his wrongs. I focused my gaze back on the bui
"Boys, I hope you don't mind, but you'll have to sleep in Greg's studio for the night. Sid flooded the guests' room when he tried to change the light bulb but slipped from the chair and broke a conduct." “You had one job, Sid.” I said at the same time Ryder asked: “Is he okay?” You can guess who Kathy glared at.
This chapter contains triggering subjects. Reader discretion is advised. I was spinning, my hands held on cold iron bars and head tilted backwards, watching the cloudy morning sky. I was around seven years old, mindlessly playing in the merry-go-rounds while my dad watched me from a bench in the park. The playground was almost empty, the only sound spearing the air being the creak of the rusty hinges. Creak which got louder and louder almost making you believe the screws were crying. Then I realized it wasn't them who were crying. I could hear real sobs and sniffs coming from inside a playhouse. So I jumped from the still spinning merry-go-rounds
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