Prey

The last moments of the day, when the light transforms every hue from a fiery orange-red to a soft yellow, are captured in stunning photographs at sunset. A sense of serenity and quiet descended as golden light started to flood the sky.

But now I feel very stuffy. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to do anything. To be more precise, there's nothing I can do. Everything is enough to destroy me.

My phone started ringing with a text. I dug my hand out from under the blanket and picked up the phone. Lift your head out of the blanket and read the message.

THE MANAGER: you’re about to have a fan meeting. October 15th is the date. If anything changes, I'll keep you informed.

I'm over reading her SMS messages word for word. I use just one hand to type.

ME: Thank you.

As soon as the message is sent, turn off the phone's screen. Once more, I cuddled into the blanket. When my phone rang again, I didn't want anything to ruin this peaceful moment for me, then my phone rang again.

“Ugh, again?” I muttered, extended my hand once more, and activated the speakerphone.

"Macie," said Veronica’s voice.

“What’s up?”

“Hearing your voice, you must be sleeping,” I heard her laugh over the phone.

“Right.”

“So… Do you need me to come over and cook you a meal? Every time I see you sleeping in the afternoon, I know you don't want to eat.” She said.

How warm that concern is. If anyone asks me if I ever liked her...

Then the answer is 'used to be'.

There will be people who find me disgusting, and there will also be people who sympathize with me. Veronica shone through my soul's darkness like a beacon. But then I gave it some more thinking. I do not wish to ruin this fucking precious friendship.

Never.

“Come over here. I really don't have any energy left to cook anymore."

“Do you need me to bring my own chef over to cook for you?” She laughed as she spoke.

“No need,” I replied.

“So even if I blow up your kitchen, please bear with it,” she said.

“Fine, just quickly,” I answered.

I turned off the phone immediately. It seemed like the phone signal was giving me a headache. I picked up my phone, turned off the Wi-Fi, turned off Bluetooth, and placed it on the table.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

This house is so quiet; I can only hear the second hand of the clock ticking.

So quiet.

It makes me feel lonely and empty. Since when do I feel this way? Haven't I been like this all these years? Isn't that right? So why do I feel this way now? Why?

I drowned myself in those fucking thoughts.

About an hour later, I saw someone pressing the password to my door. The door opened, and a girl with a book in her armpit carried a bunch of food bags into my house. I sat up dumbfounded.

“I went to buy food to cook so it took a little while to arrive.” She held up the bags of food in her hand for me to see, then walked inside.

I put my feet on the ground, and put on my sandals. I stroked my hair and looked at her. “I'm really not in the mood to do anything.”

“What's wrong? Sick?” She came closer and touched my forehead to see if it was hot, then continued. “Do you have medicine at home? Or let me buy it.”

I shook my head, then spoke. "No need." It seemed that fatigue was clearly visible in my eyes.

“Shall I cook porridge for you? Or do you want to eat something else?”

“Porridge is fine.” I got up and went to the kitchen, opened the freezer and took out a piece of frozen salmon. “Make me salmon porridge, please.”

She took it and says. “Okay, just leave it to me. It's been worth the effort for the past few months to learn how to cook, and I finally get to try it.”

I looked at her with surprise, say, “Really? Since when did you sneak me into cooking lessons? Show off your talent.” Pat her on the back.

She led me to the couch, then pushed me to sit down, "you just sit there." She returned to the kitchen. “I will cook for you.”

I waited to see what she could do. After all, this wasn't the first time she cooked for me. The quiet of the house was punctuated by the ticking of the clock and Veronica’s voice resonates from the kitchen.

I wonder if I am worth having to endure all this? Or did I do something wrong to deserve all this? Who will answer me?

Nobody.

I'msotired. I'm so tired. I'm tired. I can only complain to myself. Now I can't do anything. But it doesn't mean I can't. I just don't have the will yet. That's all.

I am a person who only knows how to think but does not dare to do. I do not dare. I'm a coward. I'm very shy.

About 30 minutes later, Veronica brought me a bowl of salmon porridge. She sat down next to me, looked at me with an expectant expression, and said. “Try it.”

I picked up the spoon, scooped up a piece of porridge, blew on it to cool down, then put it in my mouth, "Ughm." I cried out.

"So… Is it delicous?"

“Surprisingly bad.” I giggled, then took another spoonful. Whether it's good or bad, I still eat it. I'm not the type of person to waste other people's food and efforts. “Didn't you try it before feeding it to me?”

"Didn’t." She answered calmly.

I gave up and looked at her, saying. “So when you learned to cook, did you ever try your own dishes?”

“Of course. I'm not that dumbass. But is it really that bad?” She put her hands on the couch and brought her face close to mine.

“Yeah, that sucks, girl.” I giggled. “It's so salty.”

She picked up the spoon, tried a bit, then grimaced, "Shit, it's really salty." She stood up, took the bowl of porridge and went to the kitchen. “Wait, let me add some sugar. Where’s the sugar jar?”

“In the cupboard above the stove, on the right.”

I lay down on the couch again, I picked up my phone and looked at it. I wonder why he didn't show up today. But that's fine. When he didn't appear, I felt even more comfortable.

Where he is and what he is doing has nothing to do with me.

It has nothing to do with me.

It has nothing…

To do with me.

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