///
I lay in bed. Only this time I'm not in the three bedded room I share with Charlie and Macie. No, this time I am in a single bedroom. No thin, plain white sheets, But a single bed with thick covers that curl me up. I'm a caterpillar in a cocoon, I'm comfortable in a place where nothing matters. I'm safe. The smell of bacon and eggs fill the house and the sound of early birds chirping rings. I can feel. And my head hurts, it hurts so much. I'd stolen booze from the local mini mart the night previous.
Drank it all before Mom and Dad came home and passed out. I was supposed to be watching Aiya that night but she fell asleep watching TV. Took care of my problems so I drank, and kept drinking. My stomach, a bottomless pit, only infinite for the feeling of forgetting. I didn't want to be conscious. School bombarded me with test after test that day, an unforgiving tsunami ,and what made it worse was Caleb with another girl. It's always a new one every week. I knew being friends with your ex never works out but he insisted.
And because he's always around me I can't make myself let go. And I know he knows how I feel. But his ego needs my pathetic longing for something that isn't loneliness to keep it big and strong. In other words he's getting a kick out of my feelings. We lasted 5 months, but I guess he got bored.
Said I'm too boring and that he needed to focus on himself. Only two days later he was feeling up another girl in class. It's been a little over a month since we broke up but I still feel as hurt as I did the night he ended it. The sudden cut off broke me. I guess I subconsciously used him for all my answers. If I was insecure I'd console myself saying well, he loves me so, why should I care right?
If I got my books ripped out in class and got tripped down the hall again I'd think well, he chose me so, why should I care right? If I lost myself a little too much in the booze and felt pathetic as per usual I'd say he picked me so, why should I care, right? Just a simple thought that would make my mind shut up. Just for a bit.
But now that he's gone I'm faced with all of it, alone. As always. The bastard. The smell of burnt food snaps me back. Mom is on another full day at work since she's a nurse and Dad left for another business trip so all that remained was me, and My 10 year old sister, a clumsy hell spawn of a girl, a hyper Adhd child. With that said, I panic, and run with all the speed my hung over legs could force, I drift into the kitchen. There she sat staring out the window. As the pan of bacon smoked up.
"Holy crap Ai! Pay attention! You're going to set the house on fire!" I yell, turning off the stove.
"Oh, I thought I turned off both pans, I guess I forgot the bacon." She utters still dazed, probably from spacing out as per usual.
"Next time ask me for help, okay?" I lecture, she is too clumsy for the kitchen. She constantly trips over her own feet from spacing out. Running into poles and stubbing her toes. I can barely trust her to breath correctly so how can I let her get close to a stove? But of course I'm the only one who tells her not to. Mom and Dad don't know how she works, what she's good and bad at, who she really is. How would they know? They're always gone anyway.
"You have eye bags again, and your face is puffy, guess it was another bad day at school yesterday?" She smiles at me, so sweetly and softly.
"It doesn't matter, just eat your burnt bacon and perfect eggs." Rolling my eyes.
"Do you not want some?" She asks, taking out a plate.
"No, I'm fine. You need protein otherwise you're gonna end up like me." I sing. I take out a bowl and some cereal and walk to the counter.
"What do you mean? You're normal!" she laughs.
I smirk at such a naive concept, I'm not all that out of the ordinary but what I meant is when highschool rolls around she can't be too thin or too thick, too crazy or too boring, she has to be perfect and not like me. Unperfect. I'll model her like clay until she's the image of perfection. She has to be just right. I take out milk from the fridge and pour some into my bowl.
It's a saturday, sunny, bright light shined through the blinds. Ai walks to the living room couch with fork in hand choking down her food as she turns on the TV. Something feels weird, something feels off. She does this every weekend and Mom and dad are always gone. I'd normally go to my room by now, scarf down my breakfast and nap until it's night but I'm getting this tingle that runs up my spine. So what's off? As I look around the kitchen munching down my cereal. Ai turns to me. WIth a blank face she stares me dead in the eyes.
"Hey sis, wake up." she pauses, dropping her fork on the floor.
I swallowed my food hard, her eyes clouded, fogged like glass, she continued.
"Wake up,." She repeats.
I look at her confused, "What?"
"Wake up." Her voice grows deeper and her mouth begins to warp. My head starts pounding harder and harder like it's about to explode. I drop my bowl. My sight goes blurry as she continues chanting. Then blood. Thick crimson blood pours from her wrists dripping and staining the beige pillows and white bubbly foam spews from her botched lips. And her long brown hair knots up and curls.
Then her petite body gives out as she begins to fall from the couch head first. Eyes rolled back she gurgles. I run, and stretch out my arms to catch her, throwing myself under her.
"Ora! Ora! Wake up!" A voice yells. My stomach drops as I jump from my bed.
Sweat drips from my face, chest heavy and my mouth dry as sandpaper.
"Hey are you okay?" May asks, sitting at the side on my plain white bed, hand on my forehead.
I look around dizzy.
"You were crying in your sleep." she sighs.
I sit up, my pillows all wet. I can feel my hands shaking, my limbs weak.
"What time is it?" I mumble, sitting up rubbing my head. It doesn't pound anymore. It doesn't hurt.
"It's like 5 in the afternoon, you've been asleep for quite a while." She plays with my sweat drenched hair so compassionately.
"What did you need?" I mutter.
She tucks her hair behind her ear, "Nothing, I was just concerned. Why were you crying?"
I bring my knees to my chest and hold my head in my hands.
"I don't know," I responded. I'm tired. The last thing I needed was that. Whatever it was. My hands, still shaking.
"Nightmare?" She asks.
"More like a dream that twisted at the end." I correct, letting go of my hair.
Her mouth opens but before she can make out a word I interrupt, "No, not a dream. More like a memory."