I’m Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired [Izzabel Day 5]

The lethargic feeling continues to grow throw me as I make my way out of the Throne Room, ignoring the second fight that rages in front of the fire place. After watching first Cynder, and now Baby die in front of me, the hits on my soul only continue to add up. The paper that Baby gave me yesterday sits heavy in my pocket, and I can’t help but wonder if that supposed curse is actually real. Once I make the my way to a quiet and secluded corner of the exterior wall, I fish it out of the pocket it weighed in. Most of the writing is smudged, with only a few words visible. The words at the end though are too clear.

“To those that I have harmed, forgive me.”

So this stupid curse is real. Probably airborne giving the obscure dreams that have been implanted in our consciousness. I wish the directions were more comprehensible, but at least Baby was kind enough to give me these battered words before her last breath. I start by grabbing the proper container, the surface eerily matching the smooth texture on the back of my hand. There’s no directions in what ingredients need to be put in first. It doesn’t state if certain ingredients need to be whole, or crushed, or cut into pieces.

With the lethargic feeling continuing to seep into my bones; so I just dump the dry ingredients in first, then pouring in the wet ingredients. Hoping that I let the contents steep for as long as they needed, I finish the concoction in two giant gulps. I expected to feel something instantaneously, hoping that this would reduce the weariness that grows in me. Instead I only feel the same heaviness within my soul. Why would expect the words of fictitious people cure the all too real?

I finally succumb to the heaviness, and fall asleep to the sounds of cannons.

_[DARS]