Angel's spot

C H A P T E R S I X

8.04 pm.

"What are you doing?" A frail knock sounded on my already open door. I looked up, meeting my mothers' sorrowful eyes. She titled her head slightly to the right, just as Aden would have done it.

"It stills smells like him," I smiled, almost happily. The hoodie was wedged in between my fingers, like was I holding on for dear life. My hands started to shake, as did my voice.

My door was, as already mentioned, opened upon approaching but it still felt as if my mother had just opened it. Opened up to the real world.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind fill with his voice. I could hear him teasing me, laughing like he's just feet away. I wanted to call him, almost believing he will be able to step out of the dusty frame on my cupboard. But this wasn't Hogwarts.

Nothing would ever bring him back. He was gone, and soon, his smell would be, too.

"Why do we still have this?" I asked. When I opened my eyes again, the tears were running down my blushed cheeks. They did that, when I cried; turned light pink. "We don't need it. It shouldn't be here," I continued. "I don't need it. I need the real thing,"

I swallowed my words, my pain seeping out through them. I was in pain, she knew that. Only acknowledging it would hurt others. Therefore, it was expected of me to keep quiet.

I clasped at the photo for the last time, deciding it to be. That single glance could cause me more pain than anything else in the world. Make my heart beat, as if mocking me, because I still have one. Not that I deserve it. Not that I want it. It's just there.

He was smiling. Why wouldn't he? We had gotten free popcorn when the employees saw the tube in his nose; the first date he went on. I smile myself, thinking back. How could that kid be so damn happy? His happiness came from nothing; just like my pain.

Like brother, like sister, huh?

I glanced away, my mother now having sat down next to me. "Maybe you should get some sleep?" She suggested.

She had offered many times that I could talk to someone, hell, she almost sent me to the psychiatric hospital when she first saw the stripes of wine on my arm. Almost unbelievable that it had to go that far for her to realize I wasn't asking for help on an essay. It was a different kind of help I needed, not that she believed any of it.

I had needed someone to talk to when it was all happening, not afterwards. I had tried talking to her even, but she closed off instantly.

I still needed someone, but it was too late now.

I nodded, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my own hoodie. "Where did you find it?" She then asked me.

"Attic," I replied. I knew what she was going to do next. She always did. Hide away what hurts you; hide away the fact that it hurts you.

"Okay. Goodnight, love," She patted my knee before getting up, just about to disappear down the stairs when she stopped just outside my door. "Lyric?"

"Yes?"

"I know it hurts, okay? I feel it, too. But pain is temporarily, and you only make it worse by keeping your mind running on it," She said.

"Okay, mom," Was all I could say. "I'm sorry,"

*

A door was closed with a loud click downstairs; my mom had gone to bed. The sound was so familiar that even through the now 3 closed doors it took to make it to my mother's bedroom, I heard it.

She always turned on the TV in her room before going to bed, so no sound from any other place in the house made it to her ears. She usually ended up falling asleep before watching just one episode. The TV would play all night, if I didn't turn it off when I came back inside, making me wonder how she followed along to a series.

I sat up in my bed, pulling on a pair of white fuzzy socks. "It's like sticking your feet into a marshmallow each," I whispered, Aden's voice coming out.

We had a shared obsession with fuzzy socks.

"Better than eating them," I had replied. Marshmallows were just balls of sugar, and I didn't understand how people could eat them.

When I came outside, stranger was already burnt halfway through his cigarette. "Am I just slow or should I ask you if you're okay?" I yelled.

He took a draft, seemingly, sucking out the life of the cigarette. Something was up.

"I've told you, you are quite slow before," He replied, a different tone in his voice. I couldn't figure out why he sounded different. "So, how was your day, Barbie? You weren't at school,"

"I can't tell if that was meant as a compliment or an insult," I frowned. "But that is how it usually is with everything you say to me," I finished my sentence, before saying my day was fine. Usual answer.

"I'm sorry to hear that," He said. I didn't understand what he meant at first, but it soon hit me that he knew 'fine' didn't actually mean 'fine'.

"You should honestly consider becoming a phycologist. It's like you know what I'm thinking sometimes, which is quite creepy but makes you seem like a natural," I spoke, taking in a deep breath of icy cold evening weather at the end.

"Or maybe you're just easy to read," He replied simply, obviously intending to piss me off like usual.

"Shut up. Me being nice to you isn't going to happen often, so appreciate it," I leaned my head back, closing my eyes for a few seconds.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" The question came after a few minutes silence. I mentally rolled my eyes but smiled at his stubbornness. That kid didn't give up easily.

"I already agreed to getting ice cream, didn't I?"

"Yes, but then you didn't show up," He said, and my heart skipped a beat. Fuck.

"Oh god, I completely forgot," I quickly said. It wasn't an excuse, but I did really have a memory worse than a gold fish. I had even forgotten my own name a few times when asked.

"It's okay. Be prepared instead of disappointed, eh?" He said.

"How about tomorrow night? Meet me at the train station, area A at six."

He didn't reply, only painted another grey cloud on the sky. I took in a deep breath.

Once I had come out here to sit alone when my mind couldn't function anymore. Where did that freedom go?