Two Birds, One Stone

21. Reflecting

"No. And I'd like to keep it that way" I groan, loathing myself for forgetting she was here still. "Whats gotten you so pissy?" She snickers, holding in what seemed like another snide remark.

"I'm sick" I lied, holding the blanket over my chest, looking discretely make sure the bottles were in fact hidden.
"I didnt feel like cleaning the house all day with a cold"

"You look fine to me."

"Well you looked wrong"

"You should come help me with my lab" she 'offers' and tilts her head to the door. "I'm not feeling good." I repeated myself, standing ground, knowing it would be something horrible she'd have me do.

"Relax, I just need help cleaning it" she says and I roll my eyes, not really feeling like cleaning, just as I said before. "I could tell Mum and Dad you decided not to go to school today if thats how you wanna play, they'll find out eventually"

"Fine." I drag myself out of bed and into her lab, following after she grabbed what she needed from the cabinets. She seemed satisfied with my compliancy, humming to herself as she set everything she would be needing on one of her many desks. I look around and the mess she collected, she had just cleaned it months before and yet it was such a stine.

I simply looked to the box of glasses and beakers as she started to talk again.

"I suppose you could start on the cabinets," she starts back in, displaying the cabinets as she opens them "be careful."

"I was planning on it..." I muttered

I take a rag and start to clean the glasses as she starts on the other side, it's silent for a moment but she starts back up again;

"Whats the actual reason you didn't go to school"

"I'm sick."

I state again just wanting to avoid it

"No, the real reason"

"I don't like school right now."

I set the beaker down momentarily, getting frustrated at her sudden fixation on my life all of a sudden.

"What about your friend? Troy? Tree?"

"Tre. I don't want to talk about him"

"Ah, seemed to hit a nerve..."

...

She had, I wasn't going to lie. I tried so hard to avoid it just so I wouldn't go mad over all of this. Trying to numb it before I could get a chance to feel it.

I breathe in

"Yeah. I don't want to talk about it. Ok?"

"Well."

I look back to the glass, scrubbing it more vigorously, wanting to get back to my drinking fixation or at least anything to distract the constant grieving.

"Are you not friends anymore?"

"Stop."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Avrille stop."

"Did he tell you off-"

"FUCKING STOP. STOP. I DON'T FUCKING  NEED YOUR CONSTANT FAKE SHIT. STOP."

.
.
.

I hold myself back a bit... realizing what I had said and basically done.

"Fuck..." I whisper to myself as she stands there upset. Too dissociated to truly make up a sentence.

We stand there for some time.