Cursed (Old Version)

Cursed: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Finally, I had my room exactly the way I like it. My TV on my purple dresser, with my assorted little ceramic figurines I've collected throughout my life, just surrounding it. They're just little things I've stumbled across in the many thrift stores I've visited. My mother calls them junk, and in a way they are...but technically, so are Christmas ornaments. They also have about the same amount of meaning to me as Christmas ornaments do.

Then, I have my bed in the middle of the farthest wall from my door, and the bathroom is on the right of that. I also feel I should point out that it's MY bathroom. All. Mine. I have to clean it myself now, but I feel it's a worthy tradeoff from sharing a bathroom with my brother and finding all the interesting things he'd leave in there. Like little, evil surprises. Basically, I will never share a bathroom with him again. Ever.

The pictures of my different trips to amusement parks with my family surrounds my bed on the wall that the head of it rests on. It pretty much chronicles my life, seeing as going to amusement parks with my family is something we do at least twice a year.

Then, I have a big window on the right side of my room, if you've just come in from the door. It has a big, squishy bench right by the window which will be great for reading those trashy novels I still buy to calm myself down. I have my bookshelf, covered in stickers right next to that window, and my closet on the wall just next to my window wall. It pretty much goes closet, TV, door on that wall. Nothing particularly too exciting there, save for the fact that my closet is one where you can walk into it. It's very handy for storing all my clothes...that I refuse to fold or hang up.

It took me all weekend to get my room just how I like it with one arm pretty much immobile. It was a great way to keep my mind occupied, and it also helped me ignore the slight ache in my arm, or the stinging pain in my arm I would get whenever I accidentally rubbed it. On Monday, before first period, I get all the wrappings off though, and while I'm nervous to see my arm with bite marks in it, I don't really want to wear the odd wrappings to school because it'd be a beacon for awkward questions that I'd rather not deal with.

I just want it off so when I go back to school I won't look like some wounded freak who doesn't know that it's bad to play with wolves. That's all.

Yet, despite my best efforts to get it off before I go to school on Monday, everyone already knows all about it. It's as if my entire experience is some massive legend where I beat off a wolf as it gnawed on my arm. All day I have to keep trying to correct people that I really didn't do anything when I got bit except scream bloody murder until it got shot. That didn't help end the story at all though, because once the the new information about the wolf getting shot reached the rumor mill, it made the whole story hit a new level of excitement. So I just gave up after that, nodding at whatever people said and protecting my arm from their poking.

My brother even caught wind of the legend I was involved in, earning me the nickname 'wolf wrestler' for the rest of the week from him. It's something that I shouldn't have been surprised that he would do, but nonetheless, I still was.

Finally Friday rolls around very slowly, because time is the ultimate king of torture. By then, the story had changed very significantly since Bryan found me after school on Monday to where the story was on Friday. Originally on Monday, he was very surprised to see the bite marks on my arm. He eventually found it cool, once his obvious squeamish side came to terms with it. After that though, he conveniently became part of the story. I wasn't born yesterday so I know how this happened, but the FACT that it did slightly grated my nerves. No longer was he the guy who freaked out to my brother over the phone once getting called about what happened, but instead after that, he was the guy that showed up at my house in an instant, holding my hand the entire way to the hospital.