Wishmaker Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Read chapter 12 of Wishmaker by Larch on NovelPedia.

"...Sunday?" A timid voice called out to itself in the dark, saying a familiar name that came out as naturally as breathing, slipping from his tongue like half-melted ice. Across the room, the smell of pink lavender had nestled within the sturdy oak walls, a clear contrast to the usually lingering stench of booze and whiskey. Did he take a shower or something? It made his mind feel at ease, crawling through his body like an elusive mist. It felt as if it were overturning his insides with cold water, removing the pent-up heat within his flesh. Despite this, the feeling of drowsiness could not be shaken off from the woken mind. The boy's eyes felt heavy; perhaps he hadn't gotten enough sleep to open them properly, lazily looking up with a murky light blinking at the corner of his view. Slowly, he got up from the bed. Brushing his fingers against the clean fiber, he grabbed the piece of cloth that was his blanket and brought it to his chest, feeling the soft texture across his bare skin. It made him close his eyes and lie back down, covering himself in hopes of falling asleep once more. Hm~? Puzzled, he raised his brow at the mention of his chest. Oh yeah... I forgot he healed it for me the last time I was awake. He was in such a daze that he forgot about his own condition, barely remembering what had happened prior to falling asleep. It all happened in an instant, like flipping a light switch. His eyes only closed and then opened to the new day like nothing had happened. Right now, he felt as if he were floating. Each breath he took was like a bucket of ice-cold water, making him want to do it again and again without stopping. His heartbeat was quietly sending tremors through his chest, a feeling he had never really enjoyed until now. It was as if everything was a beautiful song to his ears. A natural melody of a human life, given to everyone since their very first breath. His heart was the anchor for such melody, sending rhythmic beats that he could feel inside his skull. His first thought of the day was just like the one day before, and the day before that one. I wonder where Sunday is... By now, he would have appeared like a ghost after having his name spoken out loud. The giant would bring him a tiny bowl of soup in his hand, placing it on the nightstand just to take it back into his arms and hand it to the boy. He would say something about a woman named Victoria with a wide smile on his face, as if talking about a lover. His chest would rise like a balloon, scaring Val to the point where he would brace himself for it to burst at his face. But there were no signs of him nearby, not even a sound of keys ringing beyond the doors' thick lock. "Sunday?" He said it again, this time trying to speak aloud instead of spitting half-conscious, half-slurred murmurs. Yet there was no response, just a quiet hum of the trees swaying in the wind. Damn that guy... Val swiped his fingers over his face, taking a deep, steady breath before standing up and rubbing his teary eyes with the palm of his hand. The mornings were the worst part of the day, because no matter how much one would try, they would still end up tired for the rest of the day. Even with Sunday's strange fire blessings and the continuous rest, he kept feeling tired and drained of energy. At least I can breathe now. I don't remember it well. I think he said he would finish my treatment sooner. I have no idea what he meant by it, but I feel so much better now - Yawn~ His eyes teared up as he let out a pent-up yawn, stretching his hands above his head so far that he might have actually touched the ceiling if he stood on his tiptoes. Smacking his dry lips, he looked down at the nightstand next to him, empty of all dishes except for the barely working lamp and a white pill that reflected its light with its smooth surface. Valentine outstretched his hand, hesitantly taking it. He keeps trying to convince me to eat this thing. If only I could go and wash it in the sink. He let out a s