Behind His Eyes

Chapter 4

  Devon woke up in Melanies bed the next morning, smoke curling around his head and the dim grey light from her boxed in apartment room causing him a wave of anxiety. Shadows danced across the walls in the 4:00am hush. Melanie lay beside him, her lips open in a silent snore and her wavy dark hair laying around her like some creature set on choking him to death. Her blood red matte was smudged around her lips and under her nose was the white resign of whatever he'd refused to indulge in last night (instead downing at least four beers). His head pounded and he absently wiped his face.

  She groaned and he froze, having planned to make his escape any minute. So much regret and fear plagued him. Shame. Shame at a level even he couldn't push down. Rose came into his mind and he felt the sickening wetness of tears on his lashes. He really liked Rose, but what was he to do? Melanie was a beautiful women, but in a terrifying way. She twisted his words, threatened him in ways he doubted even his mom could threaten. Even in her sleep she looked angry.

  This was it. This was the last time he'd let her do this to him. For nearly his entire teenagedhood he'd endured this. She threatened to kill herself last night, and he feared that she might. However much he hated her, he couldn't allow that. She threatened and threatened, and yelled until her face turned a deadly shade of pink. She clawed at his arms and locked herself in the bathroom, aggressively sobbing. He came to her so that he could discuss his feelings and make a clean break up, but he should of known it wouldn't be that easy. And something was off the entire time, she had this look in her eyes (beside the crazy). It's almost as if she know he was hanging out with Rose. But how the hell could she know that?

  Soon enough he was blind drunk and she was high on something and before he could react like a sane person she had seduced him in a way that seemed to happen altogether faster than what appeared humanly possible. She was a monster.

  He slowly retracted himself from the sitting position at the foot of her bed and carefully made his way to the oval table by the door, where his keys and wallet rest. Dressed and angry with himself, he picked them up and turned the doorknob, slipping out without a second glance.

****

  I still had his jacket.

  That was the first thought that popped into my head when the next morning rolled around and I saw a familiar yet so foreign article of clothing hanging on my doorknob. I wondered If he'd ever take it back.

  I groaned and forced myself out of bed, realizing that today was Monday and I had to clean. That was the deal, Leah goes to work and I clean the shit out of the house until I can find a job that pays good money. Occasionally someone buys a painting of mine or I get money online for doing art commissions. But it's something I need to work on, I've been thinking of maybe just throwing myself into a coffee shop. Making lattes all day? Why not. I think that's all it is to it.

  Baby had slept over last night and I didn't even get to say see ya to her because Leah drove her home on her way to work. They could of woken her up......but they'd all probably be having another sleepover real soon anyways.

  I rubbed the back of my head and winced, the bruise had only worsened overnight and now it felt like someone was hitting me in my skull with a sledgehammer over and over. Maybe not that bad, but how the hell am I to clean properly with these aches and pains? 

  I picked up my phone and glared at the bright screen, 8:00am glaring at me. Suddenly my vision cleared and I noticed a text from Devon. Hurriedly, I opened it.

  Devon: how's your head

I thumbed back a quick reply.

  Me: could be better. But it's okay, thanks for asking.