As my eyes shot open, I looked around, disgusted by the sight of what I call a home. Band posters covered the walls, along with drawings I liked from the past and a bunch of random shit I dug from the depths of who cares where. My legs entangled themselves in my comforters overnight, leaving me with an excuse for sleeping longer and maybe missing school. I chuckled at that thought, though. Missing school? That was about as likely as a zombie apocalypse. Don't get me wrong, I've always hated school with a burning passion, but I don't think I've missed a single day of school other than maybe once or twice, not to mention mom and dad not letting me just stay home for once. I sat up and propped two pillows behind my head. My alarm hadn't gone off yet but the sun was out, bright and early. Normally, I woke up around 6:30 but it was only 5:45, but I knew there was no way I was going back to sleep, especially not after the dream I just had.
After about fifteen minutes of just sitting there being nonchalant, I struck up the energy to stand up. I wobbled slowly to my pile of dirty clothes, which had a special spot in the corner of my room, and dug through them in search of pants that I might not have worn in awhile. Finally, I ripped a pair of black skinny jeans out of the heap and stuck them to my nose, taking a big whiff. Luckily they didn't reek of sweat and excessive blogging. I reached into the top draw of my dresser and snatched myself a pair of boxers, then dragged my seemingly heavy feet to the bathroom. Every day I suffered the memories the door across the hall likes to stab at me with. The door belongs, or I guess belonged, to my brother Matt . Me and him were pretty close, despite the fact he was four years older. But three years ago, I was forced to sit at his funeral, the result of terrible driving. I guess I didn't know what to think since I was only fourteen, but I hated myself for considering him the lucky one.
I opened the door to the bathroom and turned on the fan and lights. The room felt so elongated, and I could never get over the feeling that I was walking into a funhouse. I tossed my clothes on the counter and looked into the mirror to take in my daily whiff of disappointment. My face felt so long, and I played a bit with my shaggy blond hair. Refusing to get haircuts seemed to be my cup of tea, yet I wished it was different. I hadn't measured myself in a couple years, but I would say I was around 5'11" and probably, like, 115 pounds. Never had I seen anything as pale as my skin, and my ribs were clear as day from my lack of eating, although that almost made no sense considering I ate a lot. I felt so cliche, what with the fact I was basically a typical white band kid.
I flipped the lever on the bathtub and turned on the shower, slipping off my sweats and working my way slowly into the hot water. Goose bumps ran up my arms and legs as I let the cool water run off my neck and down my sides. It always stung just a bit on my forearms from the scars that I fashioned in place of my wrists. Don't worry, I don't cut anymore, now I just listen to a lot of good bands and draw things most kids would call fucked up. I hesitated to actually wash my hair, it seemed like so much work for a purpose no one actually cared about. Finally, I washed the dirt and grease from my head and shut off the water. I'm not one of those kids that contemplates life, writes and plays out an entire movie script, sings four full albums, and invents a new pencil before I get out of the shower, I just get in and get shit done. Reaching for my towel, I sat down on the toilet and dried my hair with rapid movements.
After finally drying off the rest of my body, I threw my towel on the floor and kicked on my boxers and pants. I walked out of the bathroom and stood in the doorway, staring blankly at Matt's door. Nostalgia ran through my head as I remembered all the times him and I had. During my tenth birthday, my Dad came home drunk and my mom was out of town for a meeting. If Matt hadn't of been there, i'dve gotten beaten. Again. I didn't get any presents at all that year, same with that Christmas, my parents had been in a financial crisis and blew all their money on lottery tickets and praying some sort of luck would strike them, but none did. The next year, we were evicted and my parents got a divorce. No, it didn't exactly faze me, in fact, I was kind of glad. Mom took me in since she was better off and Matt lived with my Aunt Alya until my twelfth birthday when mom got custody and he moved in to the little house we managed to pay off.
I grew a bit curious. It had been over a year since I last looked at those walls. I imagined them the same as they always had been. I pressed open the door to the room slowly and peered in to see exactly what I expected. Blue walls with scratches and holes where his posters used to be, a lot of them now hang in my room. For some reason, I felt a bit overwhelmed. I had been in the room since he died, but this time felt different, and it made me just a tad bit nervous. I pushed open the door the rest of the way and walked slowly. I scouted the shelves along the walls for memorabilia but didn't see much of anything. I remember we used to take our favorite things and bury them in small lockers in the yard at our old house. One year, he put a bag of Doritos in the locker because he thought maybe one day, Doritos would go out of business and he would have the last bag on Earth.
I sat on his bed and took in all the thoughts. I laid down the rest of the way, and as my head hit the pillow, I heard a light crumpling. Startled, I shot back up and looked back at the pillow. When I reached in to the pillow case, I felt it, a small piece of paper that was taped to the inside of the pillow. My face started to feel hot and I pulled the pillowcase off the pillow. I flipped it inside out and read the paper out loud. My heart sank and I started to feel sick to my stomach. The paper read "No crash is an accident. Maybe not totally intentional, but why live a life suffering each breath? I love you, Mason." I dropped the paper and fell stood up, feeling lightheaded. My knees gave out and I fell to the floor. I didn't know what to think, so I just laid there for awhile. tears flooded the white of my eyes and I couldn't even see the ceiling. Finally, i took a deep breath and spoke to myself. "I love you too, Matty."
© Copyright 2016 Ryan Oliver. All rights reserved.
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