Intoxicated

Chapter Twenty Two

This feels wrong. Not to mention weird. I have to restrain myself from grabbing each and every one of his belongings so I can keep them and they don't have to be donated. Or worse, thrown away. With the one and only hoodie of Alex's in my hand, I close the drawer. The emptiness of the room weighs down on me more than ever.

It's so strange to think he'll never be in here again.

I grip his hoodie harder, like it's him I'm holding. It's soft and smells like him. This entire room does, even after all this time. I look around the room, darkening along with the sky. I need to get home soon. How long have I even been here for? I could check my phone, or just leave, but I can't. I don't want to.

Not when all the bits and pieces of Alex are just sitting here. All that's left of him.

The infamous lump rises in my throat. I wish it'd go away. I don't want to walk back downstairs crying. Sighing heavily, I find myself flopping on his bed. My hand strokes the top of the blankets, which is just as soft as his hoodie. Funnily enough, his bed is the only thing that's tidy.

Except he couldn't have made it. Such an act was against his policies and well, his entire personality. His Mom must've made it. Maybe she came into the room, tried to clean things up, but couldn't bear to do the rest. I can't blame her - the entire room is just covered and made up of Alex. It's almost like he's here, like he just has to come home from school or something. All of his things are waiting for him.

The lump only swells. I'm waiting for you, I think as if he can hear. You inconsiderate slob. I sniff quietly, because I'm now paranoid that Alex's Mom might hear, or come up and see me flopped on his bed. I don't know what I'd say. She'd probably try to comfort me, and then tell my Dad she was concerned. Maybe I'd get dragged into more therapy. Or maybe she'd just let me be, because she understands.

Of course she would, I think as I shimmy further up his bed, to lay my head on his pillow. She gave him life, who'd feel it more than her?

As weird as it sounds, I'm basically cuddling his hoodie whilst sinking my head onto his pillow, soaking up the scent. My best friend, gone. For good. And just like that. All because of some stupid party that we just had to go to. I don't even know why we went. I feel like I don't know anything, except now I know it all.

Tears sting my eyes. I clutch his hoodie tighter. Sadie drugged him and Jace finished him off. Even then, I hurt him the most. I was the one that let him go. Now all the guilt, pain and regret rolls down my cheeks.

As well as everything else. As if that wasn't enough.

Crickets chirp outside, which is turning into a dark blue haze. I really need to get going. Dad will be wondering where I am and Mrs. Reagan is probably wondering what's taking me so long. I'm surprised she hasn't come up already. I don't want to be here when her husband gets back, either - I don't think I can handle much more small talk right now. As lovely as they are - I've got too much not-so-lovely things going through my mind.

My messed up, jumbled mind.

Wiping my cheeks, I reluctantly roll off his bed and onto my heels. God, this room smells so so so much like him. I just wish I could soak it up and make it into a scented candle or something. Weird or not, I need something to remember him by, something intangible other than memories, to comfort me. To make it feel like he's still here, in this world, rather than in my head and heart alone.

I hug his hoodie to my chest as I force myself out the door, biting down on my lip hard. As if that'll stop the tears from falling. The only thing that will is the fear of someone seeing me cry, letting out all the pain I've been holding in for so long. Some things are better left unseen, unsaid. Because it's too much, too deep and too violent to put into words.