The Real Reed

Chapter 3

The ripples
Unfathomable
As they etch upon my skin
I'll hold on still.....
Though I feel it slipping away
As I emerse
Into these waves
That engulf me
        
                                -PreshyKenna

               
Reed's POV

"Welcome to my humble abode." Aunt Anikkah announces as we walk through her front door. As she takes me on a tour round the house, I quickly discover that our definitions of humble are polar opposites.

The ride from the airport to her house was not at all what I expected.

It started with a few minutes of the usual awkward silence I was used to over the years when we'd end up being in a room together. What I didn't expect was...

"So you're still going through this silly faze of yours?" She asks with disapproval heavily laced in her voice.

She shakes her head as she looks in her rear view mirror, turning into oncoming traffic, and then she continues.

"I thought you'd have outgrown these childish games. Look at you. You look like a walking cotton swab." She scoffs. "And your bags are ridiculous. Are you trying to outdo barbie with white?" She continues when I don't reply.

"You look like a cloud that fell out of the fucking sky. So what, where you jumped by Casper? How many people are you mourning?" She booms and I flinch at the ending.

I may not have allowed her to hug me at the airport but at least I got a smile. Where's this coming from?

Don't be deceived, my aunt has been like this for a long while. Remember how I said we were all affected differently by my dad's death? I like to believe this is the way she was affected.

I kind of expected it, but her flip was so fast, it's giving me a headache. She must be bipolar because skills like that cannot be taught or learned.

"It's not a faze. I have a condition." I force out.

"Call it whatever name you want. It's pure insanity." She hisses and then continues with a voice heavily laced in even more venom. "Rather than sending you to a college here, I should have convinced your mother to send you to a psychiatric hospital." She pulls the car to a stop at a red light before adding, "It's funny how the psycho wants to be a doctor. You need to be put in a stray jacket. At least that would be a good use of our money." She finishes.

I remain silent.

"It's a three-story, five bedroom, three bathroom apartment with a state of the art kitchen, screening room....." She carries on as we make our way down the hall.

For someone who lives alone, you'd think she'd be more generous with her space consumption. Her living room could eat up our house for dessert.

Where was all this money when her brother passed away all those years ago and my mum could barely pay for the light bill?

So much for "family is everything".

"And this....is your room." She says as she opens a door at the end of the hall and steps aside so I can walk in.

White.

That's all I see. From the white walls to the white dresser, white rug, white nightstand, white bedsheets, white doors. I could go on and on. Even the flourescent lights on the ceiling and the glow lamp on the bedside table are blinding white.

It's perfect.

I don't notice when I begin to gravitate into the room until I reach the center.