AM, PM

chapter 6

All I want is to be forgotten. I want them to forget everything.
-

Layla

The sun's light interrupts my slumber. Its rays break through my lids and I wonder why I didn’t close my curtains last night. The idea of feeling so exposed to sunlight so early in the morning hurts me to a point of no return. I flutter my eyes open, only to be greeted with the presence of direct sunlight on my face.

I take in my surroundings, absorbing the weight of the previous night. The grass beneath my bum and the swing set in front of me makes me think that I am in my backyard, but why? Did Mom think this is my punishment for drinking?

“Okay, joke’s over! I’m awake. ”

I struggle to stand up, wiping my eyes.

“C’mon, come out, Mom.”

Nothing but the sound of birds chirping greets me. My bones are brittle and weak, my muscles complain of any movement. A pounding headache has consumed all of my thoughts, putting a strain on any clarity I could possibly have. I get a sudden blood rush to my brain as I stand up too fast. My jean jacket is tattered and torn; my skin is exposed underneath it.

Calum.

I swallow at the memory of last night. All I can think of when Calum comes to mind are the numerous insults I could easily throw at him. I still feel his skin burning the surface of mine. I try to reserve any mediocre memories with his touch as far away as possible in my mind.

One thing is obvious: I need a shower immediately.

Walking towards the back door, I know my parents keep it unlocked for Ariel. She comes by here and walks in as if it is her own home sometimes. I try to open it, but it is locked. The key is in my back pocket and I go inside, expecting one of my parents to pop out with a camera and snap pictures to keep forever. There is an impending silence in the house. I'm worried.

“Mom?” I cry out, “Dad?”

Nothing.

Tiptoeing to the upper bathroom, I catch a glimpse of my sleeping parents. I don’t even bother stopping by my room, all I need is fresh water on my skin. Soon, I’m undressed and under a hot trail of water. It cleans what is left of Calum’s trace on my skin, but even scrubbing it a hundred times doesn’t make the faint idea of his hands on my skin fade away.

I sigh and shut the water. I grab the nearest towel and dry my body with it. The old baseball shirt that got too small on my Dad is hanged up; I try to remember when I ever put it there. But still, I put it on. I smooth down my jeans from last night and pat away the dust before sliding them on as well.

There is ruckus outside, I can hear footsteps. Really? They had to wait for me to shower to make fun of me? Nothing makes sense, I twist the doorknob and open it, drying my hair with a small white towel at the same time.

The sight in front of me is terrifying.

My mom is holding a baseball bat, dressed in ratty old pajamas. “I’m going to ask you once and only once. Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house and in this shirt?”

Beside her, there is a tall boy. He has dark blue eyes that are familiar to me. His hair is blonde and sweeps over his eyes. He is undoubtedly handsome, and his features remind me of my dad. He wipes crust away from his eyes, and blinks thrice. Then, he grabs the baseball from Mom and stands in front of her.

“Mom, I got this,” he says, and then turns to me: “what did you steal?”

Anxiety is seeping in my cells, “I live here. Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”