Just A Little Different

Chapter 22

Months went by and our relationship became complicated. Some days, it was like we were in eternal bliss, other days felt like hell. One day while mom was working overtime, things got really bad.

I was sitting in my room, finishing an essay that took three hours. Ian came upstairs. "Wanna play some Minecraft?"

"In a little while. I'm busy." I snapped. I didn't mean to, but I had been in a really bad mood and I did not want to be interrupted. He sighed and walked away. I listened as his steps faded, then turned my attention to my paper. Once I had finished, I put it off to the side and put my head down on the desk. I was so tired. I knew I couldn't sleep though. I still needed to help Ian with his homework.

I walked downstairs and into Ian's room. "Get your homework out. Let's get this over with so I can go to bed."

He seemed taken aback by my tone. "Okay then," he mumbled as he reached for his backpack. I sat next to him and took a look at what he had to do. Simple math, I thought. A middle school student could do this. The paper was at pre-algebra level and I was almost certain he could do this himself with a couple of examples, so I helped him with the first two problems. I got pretty annoyed when he got stuck on a simple division problem. "What's sixty four divided by eight?" I grabbed his calculator away from him as he reached for it.

"Come on Ian. This is literally one of the simplest parts of the paper. You know this." He stared blankly at the paper for a few minutes, frustration biting at the back of my mind the entire time. "It's eight!" I finally snapped. "You're not five, Ian! You should know this. You can't expect the answer to appear if you just stare at the paper! It doesn't work that way. You're not an idiot. You should be able to do this paper yourself."

He stared at me, his eyes wide. "What the hell is wrong with you? So I'm not very bright, you don't have to yell at me for it."

"I can't do this." I stood up and walked out of the room. "Not today." I went back to my room and threw myself on the bed. Not today. After about twenty minutes, Ian came into my room and said, "I finished."

"There were eight problems, Ian. It shouldn't have taken you this long."

"I'm sorry, okay? Why are you so angry at me?"

"I've just had a bad day! I want to be left alone."

"But-"

"Go away!" I pointed to the door and stayed in that position until he decided to leave. He looked disappointed, but I didn't really care. I was just so annoyed and frustrated.

~~~~~~~~

I sat in my room, staring out the window. Ben had been having a lot of these bad days lately. I was starting to worry that it had to do with me, but he hadn't said that so I decided not to immediately jump to conclusions. My phone rang, but I ignored it. His bad mood had thrown me into one. After what felt like hours, Ben came to my room. "Hey, I'm sorry about earlier. Do you want me to check your work?"

"Don't bother," I replied. "Like you said, I'm not an idiot. I could do it myself. I'm sure I did fine."

"Alright," he mumbled and walked out. I followed him.

"What's gotten into you lately?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Well, you've been in a very bad mood lately and you won't tell me why-"

"Maybe I don't have a reason." He turned on me. "Maybe I'm just an angry person."

"But you're not-"

"What do you know?"

"Would you shut up and let me finish?" I raised my voice.

"How about you shut up so I don't have to hear every stupid thing you have to say?" He stood back up, his voice even higher than mine. My heart leaped anxiously. I screwed up, didn't I? "I don't need to justify my bad mood so you know it's not your fault. Maybe it is your fault! Even if it was, why the hell would I tell you? You're too sensitive and over-emotional!"

"No I'm not. And no, you don't have to justify your anger, but at least talk about it with me. You can't act like nothing's wrong when clearly something is."

"It's none of your business."

"Fine."

I turned towards the door, ready to take off, when I heard him mutter, "Sure. Run from the issue, as always." My blood was boiling at this point. I felt the adrenaline running through me and I didn't stop to think about what I was doing before I turned and backhanded him in the face. Shock spread across his face and I turned away again, but got yanked back by my hair which, to my inconvenience, was not tied back. "Don't you ever hit me again."

When he let go, I turned on him. The air in the room grew tense. I couldn't remember who threw the first punch, but it soon became something neither of us would've ever imagined. We punched, kicked, bit, shoved... It began as a little argument over nothing and became something out of a nightmare. It ended when his fist hit the side of my head and I saw black.

~~~~~~~~

I sat next to the hospital bed, feeling so much regret. I couldn't believe I let things escalate the way they did. I couldn't shake the memory of my fist connecting with his temple. I was thankful I had only knocked him out, but also in so much pain, physically and emotionally. I had called my mom and told her to meet me at the hospital, but she couldn't get out of work at that moment.

I crawled into the bed and laid next to him. "I'm so sorry," I murmured. "I let things get too far. There was no reason for it. I know I've been a jerk lately. I just have things on my mind. I'll explain it all when I'm ready. I never meant to hurt you, and I know you didn't mean to hit me. We both lost our temper. None of it was necessary. You used to say you were afraid of hurting me. Maybe I should have the same fear...I don't want you to forgive me." But as I cuddled up to him and watched his chest rise and fall, I knew he would still find forgiveness in him when he woke up, and that killed me inside. I don't deserve to be forgiven.