Cheater (Complete)

Chapter Eighteen: Panic!

Memory Continued

Rosie's POV

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I felt a bubble of anxiety wanting to pop. I didn't know what I expected from Dean's house but I hadn't expected this.

It looked so familiar though I've never been here.

This isn't an apartment, get a grip!

But I couldn't. My chest felt tight. I expected my mom to walk out of the kitchen, a cigarette in hand, a twisted smile playing with her full lips.

Breathe!

I tried to, I really did.

“I'm sorry the place is such a mess” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, a sign of bashful embarrassment. I could understand the feeling.

If anyone had to come over to the apartment, I would be making excuses, trying to make it seem better than it was.

“It's okay. Stop apologizing” I tried to bring order to my jumbled mind.

He led me to where I would be staying and I fought to breathe normally. I was prone to anxiety attacks, have been since Crystal.

I would never expect this from Dean. This kind of house belonged in my old life, the one I had to run away from. Was his mom a druggie like mine?

Poor Dean. Nobody should have to go through that.

Did he know? Did he know how close I was to losing it?

I could only see the apartment that I ran from. My mom's portrait hanging on the wall opposite my room, the maroon carpet, the shoes scattered at random, garbage tucked in corners, little empty plastic baggies on the floor, and the despicable, homey paisley wallpaper that seemed to make a mockery of my misery.

I didn't notice that there wasn't carpet, that garbage didn't litter the floor. I didn't notice that it looked close to nothing to my old apartment. It was messy, sure. I saw the glass table, so familiar to the one my mom used to have. She used to do lines on that thing. Said it made her feel classy. I spied some white powder on the clear surface. Maybe someone in this house did lines too.

The house was in obvious disrepair but it wasn't nearly as bad as the apartment. For one, the couch wasn't moldy. For another, Dean was here and he wouldn't let anything happen to me.

He wouldn't right? If the boogeyman came for me, he wouldn't let me get hurt.

I didn't notice that I wasn't moving, hardly breathing. I didn't even notice that Dean had been trying to get my attention.

“Rose? Are you okay?” Dean asked, taking my box of stuff away from me.

I hadn't realized it but we were in a room. A small bed was pushed against the wall, right at the corner like mine used to be. The room was very tidy, something I thought no male teenager was capable of. Shoes were stacked neatly on the side of the closed closet. No posters decorated the walls, not a single picture in sight. The walls were plain white. It didn't look lived in. Just like my room used to be like. I could hardly believe my eyes.

“Rose? Honey, I think I lost you here” Dean waved a hand in front of my face and I snapped back to reality.

“I'm fine” I said tonelessly, taking my box and putting it next to the shoes. I assumed this was Dean's room. Why else would he bring me here?

He studied me, not looking like he really believed me, but he let it go.

“This is my room but you can stay in here. I wouldn't trust my brother's rooms. They all were messy and something might just jump out at you from a pile of clothes and uneaten pizza” he gave me a smile and I gave him one in return.