87 Diary
After training, there is a skip in my step, and I’m excited to do some actual combat training from now on. It isn’t long until I arrive home. It’s strange not to see Mom at home. I check in with Brigit, who is in her doll workshop.
“How are you doing?” I ask as I poke in my head. The radio is playing an upbeat song as Brigit swishes her butt around.
“I’m doing good. Are you feeling better?” She asks, looking over her shoulder.
“Hmm,” I take a moment to think, “I’m in a better mood, I guess. I’m going to start doing martial arts at the dojo, so I’m excited for that.”
“What are you going to do with your time off?” Brigit questions.
“I’m going to read the diary I got. I want to learn how to improve the dungeon,” I respond.
Brigit walks over and hugs me. I hug her back and lean my head on her shoulder. “Have fun,” she sweetly says.
After a bit more chatting, I head to the bathroom and take a shower. Once I’m clean, I don’t bother to get dressed. I make two simple sandwiches and bring the second one to Brigit. I give her a show before prancing up to my room.
I climb into bed and cover myself with a light sheet. I shift about until I get comfy. Once ready, I begin reading the diary.
It’s written by a woman named Assa. She was a young woman who had a harsh childhood and grand ambitions. She isn’t from Earth but a fantasy world. It seems she was forced to fight as a mercenary from a young age until she stumbled upon a red crystal.
She focused on boosting her strength and got a large, powerful monster as her retainer. She built ten rooms immediately and got a few vicious wolf minions. Assa rallies mercenaries and bandits to begin raiding.
Captured people were sent into the dungeon and slaughtered. Reading this makes me shiver. Assa is brutal and psychotic. She took pleasure in brutality and often talked about her torturing children.
I do my best to focus on the dungeon and the reasoning behind her designs and strategies. I jot down the things I think might be helpful. “So far, I need to get more rooms and minions.” I thoughtfully mumble.
As I begin to lose focus from reading this horrible diary, my phone rings. It’s Cynthia! She’s been my best friend since childhood. Since I moved, she has often called me to talk about her successes and troubles.
I answer the video call, “Cynthia, what’s going on!?”
“I got first place today!” Cynthia excitedly informs me. She’s holding up her medal. Her shoulder-length mahogany hair sticks to her sweaty body. Her white crop top is drenched, exposing her black sports bra.
“Great job!” I give her a thumbs up. She’s on the path to the Olympics, so consistent wins are essential. Cynthia has the perfect body for marathon running.
“How are you doing? It’s been a while,” She rubs the back of her head, “Sorry it’s been so long.”
“Don’t worry! I’m rooting for you. I’ve been good,” I respond with a big smile.
Cynthia frowns, “You’re clearly not.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a bad liar. What’s wrong?” Cynthia leans forward into the screen.
“Well, a lot has happened…” I say, looking away.
Cynthia worriedly asks, “Are you having a problem with the stab wound?”
“No, umm. It’s hard to say.”
“I’m not going to let you go until you spill,” Cynthia harumphs, “You’re always there for me. I want to help you too!”
After some thought, I explain, “I had some trouble at my new job. Mom is making me take a week off.”
“You got a job? Are things that hard? I was at the bookstore buying your mom’s book, and there was a line.”
I laugh, “No, we aren’t having money problems. It’s just something I started, like Brigit making dolls.”
Cynthia places her hand on her chest and lets out a breath, “I’m glad. So what kind of work is it?”
“Oh, actually… I can’t say,” I guilty tell her.
“Ok,” Cynthia says, a bit taken aback.
I try to change the mood by bringing up something happy. I blurt out, “Actually, I got a treatment and can orgasm now!”
“That’s great! I thought the doctors couldn’t do anything.”
“They couldn’t, but I found a new treatment.”
“I’m s, so glad,” Cynthia chokes up with tears in her eyes.
“Wait, is the new job adult streaming?” Cynthia questions as if she stumbled on my secret.
I wave my hands in front of me, dismissing her. “No, it’s not like that,” I deny blushing.
“Hmm, my trainers have been saying I should take a break. I’ll book a flight,” Cynthia says.
“What? You’re coming here? You don’t have to,” I ask, simultaneously feeling guilty and happy.
Cynthia is a bit distracted, tapping towards me. “We did promise to have our first time together after all,” Cynthia offhandedly states.
I nervously touch my hair. “I didn’t think about that. We were just kids.”
“Did you already do it?” Cynthia asks, her face shifting from surprise to an exaggerated pout.
“I was just excited and…” I trail off, not knowing what to say.
“Was it Brigit?”
I jump at her perfect guess. “How did you know!”
Cynthia laughs, “I’ve seen how you look at each other. But how could you forget our promise?” She fake cries, “boohoohoo.”
“I’m sorry, alright?” I apologize with a strained voice.
“I’ll be there at 10 am tomorrow. Be prepared to make it up to me,” Cynthia says with a smirk.
“Is it alright for you to take a break right now?” I ask, concerned for her Olympic goals.
“It’s fine. My trainers have been telling me to take a break. If I tell them I’m going to see the girl who helped me build my stride, they might demand to come along,” She jokes.
“I’m serious.”
“I am, too,” Cynthia retorts. “Anyways, I’m going to start packing. Talk to you later!”
It’s true I pulled her into track and field. While Cynthia was initially reluctant, she worked just as hard as I did. We would film ourselves, study the proper form, and help fix it.
“Fine, see you soon!” I hang up and sigh. I notice the sheet had slid down at some point during the call. I blush and hide my face in my hands. We’ve seen each other in the locker room, but it’s embarrassing to flash Cynthia accidentally.