Chapter 34

                                    

                                          
Brayden
My eyes open on their own, much to my chagrin. I can feel the crust from oversleeping built up in the corners of my eyes, making my lids open somewhat uncomfortably. I'm laying flat on my back and the ceiling above me is vaulted. 
I notice beams of familiar wood timbers.
For a few moments, I simply remain unmoving. The bed I'm on is a little stiff, and the grey comforter has me feeling just a little bit too warm. I can feel that the jeans from the previous night have been taken off of me, leaving me nearly bare between the scratchy linen of the bed.
Nearly bare, except for my underwear and a thick bandage wrapped on the right side of my neck.
With some resignation, I throw the blankets off of me and try to swing my legs over the side of the bed. The effort just to force myself into a sitting position is a little shameful, and it takes me several tries before I'm successful.
I let out a quiet groan as last night's events hit me full force. I feel my muscles strain and I take a moment to rest my elbows on my knees before I muster up more energy to actually get off the bed.
My body hangs forward in this position for a while as I take in the rest of the details of my surroundings.
From my side I see light coming in from a window, the shine of the sun more than enough to brighten the entire room. Dust swirls in the air between the rays of light streaming in, and if it were any other morning I'd think this tranquility was a welcome relief to the normal hectic activity of my everyday life.
Across the grey-covered bed, there's a semi-open closet full of old t-shirts that bring up memories of a night that feels an eternity ago. I recognize the bathroom door next to it, and as my eyes roam the room, I can see little trinkets that I have a hazy recollection of.
From below the floorboards, I can hear the muffled sound of someone moving. Their heavy footsteps can be heard as they walk around the first floor. I hear them move before the sound stops for a couple of minutes and then hear them walking again. A couple of thuds signal to me that cupboards are opening and closing, telling me someone is in the kitchen.
With a sigh, I decide that I can't stay in this bedroom forever. Sooner or later reality has to be faced, and minimally I need to leave this room if not to just leave the house and go back home.
Standing up with a groan, I lean my hand on the bed as my feet hit the floor.
The noise from downstairs comes to a halt, and I presume Damien is now aware that I'm awake.
Looking around the bedroom I don't see my pants from last night and decide to head over to the closet. Upon trying to walk freely my left leg starts to quiver, and I quickly have to find some support before I collapse. With great effort, I use the bed and then the wall to stabilize myself as I walk. 
I scowl as I realize I'll be limping for the next few days as my muscles strengthen.
Upon reaching the closet, I grab the first set of lounge pants I see and carefully put them on. They're plain and grey, definitely too large on my leaner frame, and even with the drawstring pulled all the way I still have to fold the waistline a few times in order to get the pant length short enough so that I can walk. With the same carelessness, I pick an old t-shirt, before making my way out of the room.
Passing the bathroom I debate briefly about taking a shower. I can still feel the sweat and dirt from the previous night coating my skin in a thick layer of grime, but can't bring myself to care how disheveled I must look or the smell coming from me.