Zoner, Chapter Three:

I slowly walked to the bathroom, dazed and deep in thought. I finally got there, not before smashing into the walls a couple times from dizziness. I hesitated at first, but then I looked up towards the mirror. And to my dismay, the wound was real. The gash was about an inch wide. Not too deep though, fortunately. It took me a while to get the bandages, and decided to take a nice warm shower. The water felt amazing. Like hot cocoa during monstrous snow storm. I was washing my body like normal, until I came across a weird shape below my right breast. It looked like a tattoo, but none that looked like mine. Was not there before I fell asleep. Did not look new either, seemed over a year old. I stepped out of the shower and wondered to myself. How can I get a tattoo without feeling it? Without any tranquilizer? Last night gets more mysterious as the day goes on.  Not much I can do, except roll with these punches and see how this weirdness keeps happening. I cleaned off my newly acquired wound. Hurt like heck. Stung about as bad as a hundred bee stings, while you are flailing your arms about with vigor. I slowly ambled out of the bathroom, holding myself up with the wall as much as possible. I finally got to my room, and saw a note on the door. It read;

Dear Sandra, I know this will be late, but I hope that you will come back one day. George and Saint misses you. I know you will be back whenever you want, but know that your room will always be kept off limits. It's the least I can do. 

Sincerely, Paul. 

I stared at the note for what seemed like hours, but must have only been a minute or two. Because the next thing I know is a bear smacking into the side of my knee, buckling my from under. I hit the ground, hard. Luckily, I had that bear to fall onto. Gave me a big fat smooch on my face too. The bear, was George. He's a mixture of a Huskie and a Rottweiler. He is big, furry, and has the biggest blue eyes a dog could muster. I petted his soft fur generously. 

"I missed you too bub."

I told George while studying his body language as closely as I could. He seemed to think that I was gone for months, rather than hours. Although dogs are like that. So I didn't ponder too much on that idea anymore. Cannot be right, hours Sandra. Only way. I heard some tussling at the door, keys. I heard the bolt unlock, and a shady tall individual came through the door. 

Paul, who was seven years older than I am, is about six foot three. Could have probably played for a basketball team if he truly wanted to. Tall, and muscular. His clothes fit tightly around him, but he never seemed out of breath. He was my roommate, the only friend from my childhood. His parents were friends with mine, but they all died in an airplane accident going to Kenya for a church convention. Or something like that. I barely remember their faces, all lost with time itself. Only thing I had from them, was their memory and a dinky piece of wood that my father always seemed to carry around with him. Or at least that's what Paul told me. It had carvings on them. Looked like tribal marks. But I could not truly tell without knowing what they meant. 

Paul came through the door carrying groceries and Chinese by the looks of it. Once he turned and saw me, his jaw dropped to the ground. If it was made of steel, it would have went all the way through the foundation. We're only on the tenth floor. 

"How...?" 

He muttered while looking puzzled. 

"But you... You are here?"

His puzzled looked intensified. I took a small step closer to him, trying not to seem like a zombie wanting his brain. 

"Why so confused?" 

I asked.

"I was only asleep all night."

I could not help it, I had to let out a chuckle. Paul, he could get confused by first grade math. 

"No..." 

He said quietly. 

"You have been gone longer than that..."

"What? How long then?"

I asked with an eyebrow raised, I emphasized it a bit. Mocking Paul as much as I could. 

"You have been gone for five months Sandy.. It has not been easy.."

He seemed like he choked on those words. 

"Huh? That cannot be right Paul."

My eyes got a little wider. My voice was starting to sound like his. 

"You heard me, Sandy. You were just gone, poof. And now you are finally back."

He handed me the paper he had tucked under his arm. I read the front page, the date. August 23rd. He was right. My eyes grew wider. 

"How... But I was only asleep..?"

I stammered, trying to keep myself up by leaning onto the wall. I slowly let myself go to the floor. I needed some time. Time to think this through. 

"What? What do you mean?"

Paul asked with his own eyebrows doing a jittery dance. I told him what had happened to me. He stared at me more. 

"Sandy, I think we need to take you to the doctor."

"I'm fine."

I protested even. Though my head was throbbing even more now that it started thinking again. 

"No, I think it is for the best. You are hurt, and it could have effected your mind some."

I laughed. 

"No way, I am not any different from when I fell asleep last night."

His gaze stayed steady. He started to put the groceries away. 

"Even so.. You need a real bandage, and some medicine."

I rolled my eyes. I never had any good moments with doctors. Seems like that saying whatever can go wrong will. That is the case, but on a larger scale. Which is no joke. I stepped on a scale once and it broke. Not because of being overweight, because I have never been my entire life. Always thin, even as a kid. No being chunky for me. No cuteness. Things just happened like that. MRIs, we will not get into that one. You can image. 

I sighed, and stared at the door while slowly getting back onto my feet. 

"Fine, just to prove to you that I am fine. We will go."

"Good. We will go now."

He helped me to my feet fully, the walked me out the door. And one step closer to the doctor's office.