A Comforting Truth

Chapter 71: A Comforting Truth

 

 

 

 

 

No wake up call this time. Trevor hung around the house for a hefty fragment of the day. He flung off yesterday's clothes and put on new ones. Since he took a shower last night, he didn't much need one, though his hair looked a mess. There were indentions where he'd healed his leg so he healed it some more back to its regular shape. He curled his lip when he looked in the mirror. It wasn't the most flattering he'd ever looked. Trevor wondered if there was any more demon's to kill or if the one the sphere had mentioned was the last one. Combatants that was. The only thing holding him back were the unfound intercessors. The battles he faced were diminishing him. He required a time of rest but he had no confirmation if that were possible to perform.  What was he to do today? He didn't know where to go. Just that he had one more foe to either fight or die. He still had a grace period of two months to take down one more measly guy. What would be the problem? It didn't take much for him to get dressed and walk outside to drink a beer. It was Saturday afternoon, why not? Trevor's arm brushed up against a tree branch on his back porch. He probably would've went to get something to cut it off in at any other time. On this given day, he had a maximum of six beers, and wasn't really bothered with the trivialities of how intrusive the trees had become. He entered Tracebook on the pc for the first time in a millenia. He didn't think about what he was doing. His friend list had grown exponentially the last time he'd done major additions. Other than that, it didn't seem to be doing anything other than serving the reason for its creation. To show him what everyone had to say. Trevor had come so far. Then in a spell he hung on to a name that sat between a column that couldn't have been any less unsubstantially noticeable. A girl named Peyton. Somehow he'd passed a point in messaging her that he'd overrided the fact that she was coming out of break-up and just plain wanted to block him out. She told him. She would try to make time for him to hang out with him whenever she felt the whim. He said, "Damn" It never occurred to him that anything couldn't happen. He took one look at the screen and felt a wave come over him. He waited and waited but nothing came back to him. He decided to leave before he worked himself into a frenzy. He couldn't help but want to make her hang out with him today. He desired to more than anything he ever had. For the time being he had to preoccupy himself with music and stealing glasses of whiskey every once in a while. It had to be that he couldn't lift himself up out of his own residence. It took him hours and hours to get away from the house at any point during the upcoming weeks. Trevor so wanted to leave and find somebody to hang around. But, it never was so perfect as to work out like that.

He opened his eyes on a Wednesday morning and took out a bottle of ibuprofen and swallowed about five of them. He didn't feel so good for about three hours. He knew he'd took way too many. It didn't change the fact that his headache along with all other pain had gone away. It was easy to take care of and if anything he didn't want to concern himself with how his body might react. He was informed he wasn't allergic to it or any other painkiller. That being said, he needed to find out why he was feeling so bad all the time. The hours passed and he really wanted to go to a doctor. However, this wasn't something so simple he could just whisk away in a blink. It took nearly two-weeks to get to a medical office and even further away was the time he needed to pick up the medicine. Trevor had a disease. One known to restrict blood flow. He had an idea it might've been a remnant of the undead who'd gotten to him a few weeks ago. There was no other probable cause that he could think of.

 

"Why is it that I can't get around to making things happen for myself. I just need to take it easy." he sat on the couch and layed back watching stupid clips of people getting hurt or doing stunts. "Wacky." he thought. Then got up and got back on the computer. It took him many tries to get his feed to load. Then he ran his mouse over the surface of the chat button. He resifted through the messages and sent her a new one. He read over it and was interested in whether he had conveyed the right stuff to say he was asking her to spend time with him tomorrow. She wasn't online, but he did have the capabilities to get on later, so he wasn't worried.

He pushed close and turned it off. He ran to get dressed and hurried to meet his mother at the door when she arrived. Because when she got home he was getting in the car.