9 Overthinking? Overthinking. Over…thinking. Oh-ver think-ing?
The days passed by and blurred together for Adonis. Somehow, each second took an hour, yet each day went by in a minute. In an attempt to keep track of them, he ripped a small hole in the canopy of his bed every time he woke up in the morning. Staying in the room allowed him ample time to heal and think, but he soon grew bored and missed seeing Aspen or Sam. Nearly two weeks had passed since she first came; Adonis supposed she hadn’t been able to find a time to sneak off from Odin.
He also began to sleep a lot more than he normally did. A few different maids dropped food off twice a day for him and Sam, during which he wore his cuffs and made pleasant talk with them. He hoped that, given enough time, he might be able to get another ally out of one of them, or at least some information. While the food was always good, it wasn’t enough to completely fill him and he could tell that the lack of nutrients was wearing on him and contributing to his irregular sleeping schedule.
Sam was also beginning to feel bored. His initial surge of excitement when he found that Aspen had left the knife behind, whether purposely or accidentally, had long faded. Sam also discovered that the guard who had been initially assigned to him had disappeared, and when he asked what had happened to the young guard, none of the staff would answer. However, Adonis’ guard stayed the same. He struggled even more than Adonis with the food portions. He got slightly larger portions because of his height, but it still was not nearly enough to support his weight or muscle mass. After two weeks of the same treatment, he thought, I hope my muscles don’t atrophy completely while I’m here. I would work out, but I barely have enough energy to do anything but sleep.
Although Aspen visited neither of them for almost two weeks, Francis did show up three times. The first time he came to their rooms, just one day after Aspen’s introduction, Adonis was so happy to see a familiar face he had to restrain himself from hugging Francis.
“Francis! What are you doing here? I thought I was never going to see you again!”
“I have lots of property clean up to do, so I can’t be here very long,” he warned Adonis, turning around and closing the door. “I think I’m lucky I even got through the guards! They do not want anyone visiting you two troublemakers.”
“What did we do? Odin hasn’t hurt us that bad, or even visited us, and he gave us these nice rooms,” Adonis asked, still perplexed on why Odin would bother treating them like guests.
“I’m not sure, but I have heard rumors…” Francis glanced at the door again, as if to reassure himself that it was still closed. “…I think he’s planning to use you both for something. Now, I have no idea what that is, but I find out, I might be able to warn you. Oh, and my real purpose for coming here was to bring you this,” he said, reaching into a satchel he carried and handing Adonis some folded shirts and pants.
“It’s not much, and I don’t know if they’re your size, but I knew Odin wouldn’t arrange fresh clothes for you, so I took it upon myself to do so.”
“I-thank you,” Adonis stared at the folded clothes in his hands. He smiled. “Thanks so much, Francis. Sorry there’s no way I can really pay you back for this.”
“It’s ok, take care. I have to go back to my work before my absence is noticed,” he said cheerily, escorting himself out of the room.
Francis visited twice more later, just checking on him and Sam and attempting to cheer them. Even though it was very nice of Francis to do so, Adonis still missed Sam and needed a way to talk with him. I could ask Francis to bring him into my room. No; that wouldn’t work. He’s surely already risking his neck just for these meetings, plus he would have to somehow distract the guards for a long time. He sat on the edge of his bed and tapped a beat with his fist on his thigh. He abruptly stood and forced a hand through his hair. Damn! I need a way to communicate!
He stalked to the middle window and leaned straight-armed on the windowsill, glaring at the sharp mountain peaks in the distance. He looked down again, rethinking whether he could somehow drop down to the ledge. As he stared, his eyes refocused on the metal rain gutter just inches below him. He frowned at the gutter, then turned to the window and tried to jimmy the pane open. He scrabbled at the edge of it, trying to pry it open. It was painted all around, and he could not even tell which way it was supposed to open. I wish I had acrylics, he thought to himself while digging his nails into the cracks and slicing the paint. After scratching at the paint for almost fifteen minutes, he finally managed to split the panes from the wall. He braced his shoulder against the glass and shoved himself one, two, three, four, five and six times before the concealed hinges finally swung the window outwards. The window lurched so suddenly Adonis nearly fell out of it, but caught himself with his legs. Grinning, he leaned out and whooped victoriously.
He stretched his hand out and looked left to see whether the gutter reached what he guessed was Sam’s room based on counting windows; the metal pipe wound around the house into the distance. Looking at the ground, he could not see any guards, which surprised him. Maybe the house is guarded outside only at night. He tapped the metal with the tip of his fingernail and listened to the echo it produced. Perfect. Noticeable, but surely not loud enough to be heard from the ground. He tapped rapidly three times, paused, tapped once and again and held, paused, and tapped and held twice. He tapped with all of his fingers, nearly slapping the metal with the flat of his hand. I hope this works. He continued the same pattern, pausing in between each one for a few seconds.
Sam sprawled out on his bed, trying to find a new position to sleep in to entertain himself. He was bored of this big, empty, quiet room with no company other than the sporadic visits from Francis. He stretched and shook out his arms and legs, savoring the softness of his borrowed sweatpants and t-shirt. He reconfigured himself and threw his head at the foot of the bed, hanging it off the edge. He felt the blood rush into his face and hoped, maybe this will get rid of this killer migraine I have. His head had been pounding for nearly three hours now, and his vision was becoming blurry from the constant throbbing. Simply walking and standing exacerbated his headache, making him nauseous and faint.
If only that stupid tapping would stop! There must be a woodpecker outside, he grumped. The last fifteen or minutes or so had been punctuated by the most annoying metallic-sounding tapping. He lay immobile, the blood rushing to his brain somewhat muting his migraine’s effects. As his mind cleared slightly, he listened to the tapping. It came at regular intervals, with quick taps followed by slow, and a larger pause in between each repetition. One, two, three quick…one quick, one long…OH!
He rolled off his bed, ignoring the rush of sickness he had, and dashed to his window, leaning against the wall for support and waiting for the vertigo to disappear. He fought for air, gasping as dizziness constricted his lungs. Still weak kneed, he pressed his ear to the pane to listen to the regular tapping again. That has to be Adonis! I think he’s spelling…AMS? Oh, stupid. SAM. He tried to force open the window, but found it to be painted shut as Adonis had. He crouched and retrieved the knife from where he had hidden it in the potted plant, lightly covered in a layer of soil to conceal the shine. He easily cut through the paint and pushed it again. He counted the pattern and waited till the end before he tapped, trying to signal to Adonis he had gotten his message. One short, one long, pause, long short short, pause, long long long, pause, long short, pause, short short, pause, short short short. ADONIS?
YES.
SMART.
THX.
It was a painfully slow way to communicate, but without any other way, they both welcomed it. They stood at their windows tapping for more than an hour, asking if they each got enough food and trying to guess why they got such nice rooms. While they drummed, the sun began to set and the weather shifted. Clouds gathered at the horizon, towering behemoths with white tops and stormy-grey underbellies. The dying sun shone through in slanted golden rays, nearly blinding both Adonis and Sam with their brilliance.
NIGHT COMING. STOP? Adonis asked while shielding his face with one hand.
YES. RAIN TOO. TTYL.
Adonis leaned out and grasped the edge of the bottom rail on the ajar window, checking the ground again to make sure there were not any guards patrolling. He saw a guard just begin to walk out from the guard shack, and Adonis was relieved they just managed to miss the rotation of the day and night guards. They must only patrol after nightfall. He shut the window and sank to the floor, still lightly holding its lock with the tips of his fore and middle fingers. We were lucky, he thought.
He rose from the floor and flopped face-down onto his bed, groaning into his sheets and wishing that he had more food. His feet hung over one side, and he tucked them onto the bed as he flipped onto his back, eyes closed, hand running over his forehead and hair. He shivered and reopened his eyes, surprised by the sudden chill that had overtaken his room. Dread dragged his heart to his feet as he glanced out the window again.
Snow swirled outside, languorously drifting down in fat flakes. Winter was here; but Sam and he were still trapped in a strangers’ house with no outside contact and barely any allies. It felt as though an impassible barricade had sprung up between them and the distant world.
Hours later, Adonis threw himself around on his bed, struggling to find sleeps’ clutch. Worries of the weather, what was going to happen to him and Sam, and whether Aspen was safe from Odin’s chaos plagued his mind. The more he tried to calm himself, the more he felt his throat close up and tears push against his eyes. He gasped and glanced at the clock again; it now said it was 2:34 AM. I can’t do this. I need air.
He pushed his sweaty blankets off of him and leaned over the side of his bed, his hands clenching the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white and his legs shaking from adrenaline coursing through them. His thoughts whirled, clashing and fighting, a hundred versions of himself splitting off and brawling for dominance.
He frantically tried to take control: I need to calm down! I can’t have another anxiety attack! CALM DOWN NOW!
I can’t do it. Sam- is Sam ok? I wish he was here he always knows what I need.
Focus you idiot! He’s fine! Everything’s fine you’ll be ok!
NO! It’s not fine! I am not ok! I hate it here I am not safe this is not ok I can’t even think damn I hate this place so much SOMEONE COME HELP ME I AM NOT OK
The voices battled in his head, spewing so quickly he did not know what to think anymore; an entire war battled within his skull, exhausting him without even moving. He gave up trying to rationalize. He let go, forgetting who he was and accepting that he only lived to suffer, and he would not make it out of this house, or anxiety attack, or his problems, ever. He cried, his face contorting, tears streaming down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and rolled to face the headboard, curling his legs and head into a tight ball, rocking slightly with the strength of his sobs. The world seemed so full of darkness; all life is and could ever be is a short dream before death.
Silence suddenly cut through the clamor, and a single voice made itself clear. Someday you won’t even matter anymore. No one will remember who you are. No one cares about you. You would be better off dead already.
Adonis threw his neck back and glared at the ceiling, his eyes and cheeks still shining from the warm saltwater tracks. His voice quivered as he screamed, “leave me alone! Stop! I’m not listening to you! I hate you!” He sobbed, his breath hitching in his throat and preventing air from entering his lungs. His head swam, and he collapsed inwards, crumpling to his bedsheets again. Try as he might, the narrative would not leave him alone. Stress from everything had built up and finally released, leaving him a broken shell of the person he was not seven hours ago. Convulsions still wracked his body and his feverish screamings were reduced down to whimpers.
Adonis lay the loneliest man on earth, not one other soul available to comfort him. His brain dared him to jump from the windowsill; when he could not find the energy to stand, the sinister voice named him cowardly. One voice convinced him he was fine, he did have a purpose and he needed to live; another yelled of impending doom. The only thing he was sure of was confusion. Nothing made sense and it never would. He grew weary of wrestling with himself and sleep finally found him, brusquely tossing him into a monotonous unconsciousness, occasionally punctured with brief sensations of arms wrapped strongly around his middle.
The spry sunlight reflected off of the tallest ice-laden pine branches, the sparkles shifting with the wind. Below the tallest canopy, the rest of the trees and ground were still swathed with azure shadows. One lonesome guard patrolled outside, their proportions seeming flat and their outline unfocused in the early-morning grey. Sam groggily pulled himself out of sleep, lifting his chin from face-down in the pillow to looking at the wall in front of his bed. He yawned, side-eyeing the clock to read the time: 7:12 AM. I should’ve shut the curtains, he grumped, annoyed that the snow crystals’ abilities to reflect light so spectacularly were interfering with his rest.
He slumped out of bed, taking his comforter with him and wrapping it around his shoulders. He stomped heavily to the window, deciding that if he was going to be up this early, he might as well enjoy the sunrise. He squished his forehead and nose against the pane, savoring the coolness seeping into his cheeks. With his scrunched cheeks slightly inhibiting his vision, he watched the shadows on the distant mountain tops melt downwards, golden light taking over the steep slate faces and setting the fresh layers of snow on fire. The lake of hammered silver gleamed anew, glimmering as the breeze played upon its surface. The sky acted as an aesthetic backdrop, the pre-dawn pale blue blushing into royal pinks and oranges, then fading back to a deep cerulean. A few swollen clouds left over from the storm the eve before scattered across the sky, matching the atmospheres’ colors and pairing them with some ethereal yellows. I love sunrises. They’re so calming, Sam smiled, pulling his face back and stretching, reaching for the ceiling. I hope Adonis watched this one. I know he had a bad night. I wish I was there for him. He shuddered and released his stretch as he remembered Adonis’ screams from last night. He was jolted out of slumber, and although Sam could not make out what he was yelling, it was clear that Adonis was having some sort of anxiety attack. I wonder if he’s awake by now. Surely, he would’ve slept lightly, if at all, after an episode like that.
Sam quickly glanced out his window for a guard-check, then stepped over one window to the middle, which he had already cracked the paint on yesterday. He jimmied it open and stretched his hand down to the gutter, keeping his eyes averted to the ground to make sure no guards saw him. His fingertips settled into snow; one-inch-deep, fresh, powdery snow. Soft, lovely, and the perfect amount of mixed-in ice needed to pack snowballs. And the perfect amount of sound absorption to completely block any echoes a metal rain gutter could produce.
Sam groaned and dropped his head, allowing his fingers to relax and curl out of the puffy drifts. Crap. I forgot about the storm! The overall loss of the rain gutter communication barely bothered him. The only thing that dampened his otherwise cheery mood was not being allowed to communicate to Adonis that he is special, a priority, and is loving and deserves to be loved.