There is a point where you slip into sleep. It's a little liminal space where it feels like your imagination is slipping away from you, and it begins to play. I was always proud of my ability to tell when I was about to fall asleep, but, lately, that little hidden space was the only place I wanted to be. It was quiet there, especially when the painkillers kicked in. It would paint its little pictures, and everything would seem fine. Mom and Dad weren't divorced. I was at least a human in the eyes of my class. It was a world of fantasy—heaven on earth. It slipped by quickly, regardless. I would soon wake up from a hazy dream.

I expected to see my ceiling and the posters in my room. Instead, I was greeted with the bottom of a bunk, and that weight settled back on me. This time, it was ruthless. There were two liminal spaces: slipping into sleep and coming out of it. Both were equally dangerous when it came to this shit. I heard rustling next to me, and Samson sitting up and holding his hands before his face, saying a prayer before looking at his hands. He then reached down to touch the floor, blessing the earth.

"Vedic," I heard Dan's voice hoarsely explain. Samson nodded, before finally stepping onto the floor, continuing his prayers. Blaze was still sleeping, but Geraldt had already slid out of bed and was back at the desk, waiting patiently for the boys to wake up.

"Today's your first official day as one of us, lad." Dan asked quietly. I nodded, but I forgot that he didn't see me under the cover of the bunk.

"Yeah," I confirmed, watching as Samson sat in his bed, watching the cool blues of the room move with the rising sun.

"We still have about an hour before class starts," he said, coughing a bit on the dryness of his throat. Blaze threw a pillow at Samson’s remark.

"Yeah, an hour; le' me sleep," he spat, turning over on his bed. Samson chuckled, taking the pillow and throwing it back at Blaze, who accepted it with a murmur. He hugged the pillow tightly to him. It was endearing to see. I rubbed at my eyes, pulling out the gunk that had gathered.

Geraldt looked over at me, smiling lazily. He stretched out in his bunk with a croaking groan.

"I'll take him over to the office when it opens," he offered, leaning against his chair with a guttural yawn. Blaze let out a grunt of approval. A sudden shrill of a bell and a roar from downstairs disturbed the floor.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Breakfast, boys, get up and haulin'" The voice roared before stepping out of the hall. Blaze whined, turning over in his bed and death-staring at some hidden enemy. Samson got up from the bed, crossing the space quickly. He stopped midway, cursing at himself and turning on his heel. He grabbed something from under the bed and moved back on course. It looked like a book, with papers on it.

Geraldt let out a chuckle.

"Is the pay good this time?"

Samson didn't answer but rushed down the hall for a few minutes. Dan jumped down from his bunk, and Blaze finally slid from his warm nook. It wasn't a major choice now. I got up and followed the crew, seeing Geraldt look at me curiously.

"Well, my foot is still sore," he whined, pouting theatrically. I rolled my eyes and went to pick him up by his arm as we began to shuffle towards the canteen for breakfast. He was breathing heavily, which didn't bode well.

"You ‘right?"

"Been worse," he joked dismissively. I didn't believe him, but the distant look in his eyes was enough confirmation.

"Were you okay last night?" He broke the silence. I stiffened and tried to calm down my racing heart. Did he see it?

"Yeah," was all I said, and I knew he didn't believe me either. Still, we stopped talking when we got to the canteen, and the students walked to their tables with porridge, some with fruit. Blaze and Dan were sitting, again, near each other. They were arguing about something. Samson came a few minutes later, his pocket thicker as he came to get fruits and some porridge for his breakfast.Geraldt and I sat down with the rest. He didn't eat for a while, content with swirling around his porridge with his spoon. Samson began with the fruits, and I don't think Blaze and Dan even remembered they were eating with how they argued. I followed Geraldt's lead.

"You're not eating," Geraldt murmured. He looked at me, almost accusingly, but his eyes softened when he saw how I flinched at his words.

"You gotta feel hungry," he coaxed. He dipped his spoon into my porridge, holding it up to my lips like a parent feeding their child. It was condescending at best, but his logic was sound. I relented, opening my mouth and letting him give me the spoon. The porridge was sweet, but still very earthy. Smiling, he took the spoon back and licked it clean. That stupid action and my bloody brain had me blushing. He chuckled at seeing me nearly fold over the table in shame.

"Can't be that bad," he joked, nudging me with his elbow. It was, quite frankly, ‘that bad’. It wasn’t that the porridge was something, but it was him. His advances were annoying at worst, always inching into the back of my mind. I was practically hanging on to every breath that he took. The headache began to buzz again. I don’t even know if they’re real anymore or if I’m just making them up to justify taking another tablet. His breathing grew louder, and the clattering of utensils against plates and bowls followed.

It had become a cacophony that threatened to drown me if I didn’t try and leave, or at least get back to myself. Geraldt tugged on my sleeve, and when I looked, he held a thumbs-up questioningly. I nodded, but I could tell he didn’t believe me. I would honestly say that the breakfast was one of the longest I’ve ever sat through, and one I hope to never sit through again.