3. Lea

Chapter three

Lea

Sunday, December 1, 2024

M y head is pounding when I wake up, and it feels like even the low hum of the city below could make my brain explode.

When music trickles from under the door, causing the nerves firing in my skull to match the beat of the loud song, I want to cry.

I want to fucking sob into the pillow because this shouldn’t be my life, but it is.

No one should have to live like this.

And usually, I don’t.

But the stress of the move, combined with the fact that I haven’t been able to afford to pick up my prescription for BioNeur, is the perfect storm for a migraine from hell.

When the music only gets louder, I toss myself out of bed and practically crawl to the door. A swallow works in my throat as I twist the cold metal doorknob, opening the door a fraction. I peer out through the crack, careful not to let too much light in. “Kai,” I call softly because even the sound of my own voice is like an ice pick through my ears.

When he doesn’t hear me, I try again, now with watery eyes and an uncontrollable whimper leaving my throat. “Kai,” I call out, hoping like hell he hears me this time.

I know he does when I see his back tense before he finally turns to face me. “Leonora,” he greets me, his voice filled with disdain.

“Could you—” My voice wobbles. “Could you please turn it down?”

It takes every ounce of my strength to remain upright, as I hope like hell he agrees.

I watch as his brows pinch and his eyes narrow at me. He picks up the remote for the speaker, and hope swells in my chest.

But it’s gone as quickly as it came, and the volume climbs.

Pain explodes in my skull, bringing me to my knees as I sob. I crawl back into my room, closing the door and locking it. I take small sips of water from the tumbler on my nightstand, hoping basic acetaminophen will do the job this time.

Except that I know it won’t because it never does .

Nothing besides the BioNeur ever works, and without a generic on the market until the patent runs out in another eight years, I’m shit out of luck.

My crappy health insurance doesn’t cover BioNeur, despite my migraines being refractory to every other drug on the market. But that’s the thing. They aren’t looking out for people; it’s all about the money.

Once I’ve swallowed the pills, I feel around the bottom of my bag for my headphones, grab a blanket and pillows from the bed, and make my way to the closet. I set up a little nest for myself, hoping the cool, dark closet with minimal noise will ease the pain.

Relaxing into the pillows, I fight to calm the raging emotions and pain searing through me. I think the music has quieted, but that may be my imagination.

The same way that the knock on my door probably is too.

It’s likely been hours that I’ve been lying here, which means Kai should be at practice. Luckily, we shouldn’t have to see too much of one another because we have opposing hockey schedules since we play for the same organization, just on different teams.

I make my way out of the closet, grabbing my tripod and camera from the box in the corner of the closet before shutting the doors.

I flick on a lamp, hoping like hell it’s enough light for what I need tonight. I can’t handle more than this, and it already feels like it’s too much.

Standing at the end of the bed, I stare at it, trying to decide what I need to do to make it presentable.

I start fluffing pillows as if they’re actually going to be in the shot. Newsflash: they aren’t.

But it’s all about the vibes with this kind of work, so I do my best to make the bed look nice, opting to keep the fluffy white comforter on top.

When it’s all fixed up, I grab my tumbler, filling it in the kitchen, and ensuring the coast is clear before locking my door and crawling onto the bed.

I work to make sure I’ve got the right angles before turning my laptop on and cueing up the chat room for Mastur-chat. “Shit,” I curse, bounding off of the bed to grab my favorite pink vibe from the luggage I was too tired to unpack last night.

As soon as I’m in position, I turn the camera on and get to work.