The Purple Phase

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 10 (v.1) - Deck The Halls

Submitted: February 15, 2013

Reads: 73

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Submitted: February 15, 2013



Deck the Halls

Sleep Party People – Things Will Disappear Like Tears In the Rain

I slide out of bed Monday morning scratching my head. My face stuffs into my covers concealed away from the sun. I hum a groan as I slowly twist to stretch my cracking bones. I pull the cover from head and I catch sight of my mother who smiles back at me. My mother turns back into my closet shuffling through it. I groan and pull back into my bed. I hide underneath the covers making the world around me darker. I grumble and hiss underneath the cover twisting and turning to get comfortable for more sleep.

"Good morning." She greets me cheery. I groan in response and we sit in silence longer. She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. I turn from the covers and I stretch.

"Mom, please give me my space." I look to her as she slides a plastic bag from my closet. She smiles at me and waves a shy wave. Boxes lie on the ground piling up high. I groan at the mess in the middle of my room. Tags line the floor and papers and plastic lace the brown carpet. I groan more and I pull my finders over my face. "What time is it?"

"It's twelve. Your teacher will be here soon." My teacher I want to scream. My legs kick underneath the tangled covers. I hear her sigh over the rustle of my covers.

"What are you doing in my room?" I nearly yell.

"I bought you new clothes." I groan loudly pulling at my hair. My head burns as my hair tangles around my fingers. Why did she think she could go from not caring to caring. It irks me just thinking about it because I hate when people want to notice things once the important people start to notice things. She is being a follower by caring. It is strange. It should be a sin to care about things that you never truly have intentions on caring about. I was being shoved into the front of her head like play-dough going through mold. I bite my tongue a little harder before I look to her. She smiles at me and holds a dress up in front of her. The dress flares at the bottom and along with this my mind becomes shattered. I stuff my head back into the covers and I groan louder.

"Mom, get out of my room."

"Your brother is on the way with your lunch." I can’t wait for him to get here. Maybe he’ll make her quit touching my things and talking to me and breathing my air and thinking that it’s okay for her to taunt me with her classy ways. I hate it all. I hate that she becomes so perfect. My whole family were all standing in a square facing away from each other.

"I don't want you to keep talking." I complain pulling the pillow over my head. I muffle out her noise and I sink deeper into my bed.

"You need to get dressed." She cries. I can’t really think of a reason why this would ever become valid in any situation.

"I don't need to get dressed when I'm being home schooled." I roll over to look up at the celling and pick through the yellow stars I’d painted there when I’d gotten bored one day. I hum a tune to block her out and I pull my hands over my eyes to block out the sun.

"Your therapist told me to make this normal for you" she appends. I hear her but it’s hard to actually live in a world where she actually is choosing to care about what I do as first instinct.

"I'm wearing what I have on now." I tell her biting the inside of my cheek.

"Oh come on Penny, could you just reason with me?"

"I don't feel like it."

"It's your first day."

"You're still talking."

"Please Penny, just get out of bed and look at all of this new awesome stuff I got you." she requests enthusiastically. I can tell that she’s standing the way one of those perfect girls stand. Her blond hair finds itself peeling down her back. She has her hands in her pockets and her hips are poking out slightly. I don’t even want to bother turning to see if that actually how she’s standing. I just make up the image for myself. Why couldn’t I have been born with blond hair? My father’s hair is brown. He passed that down to me. This dark brown hair and I get her curls. But, curls are so useless because they can be made. I’d rather have stringy hair. It would be perfect and look soft all of the time. If I had blonde stringy hair then people would ask to touch it because they would actually notice me. They would notice me because I would have blond stringy hair. Everyone notices blond string hair no matter what.

"You're making me want to slit open my throat, that's what you're making me want to do." I insert grimly. I lift to see her face. She is shocked. I know she has to be shocked. She walks out slamming the door behind her. She is acting like the prissy little bitch she was raised to be. I sit pulling at this curl that wrapped around my neck with the layer of sweat from the previous night and I twist it around my finger. It helps its way back to my neck once I let it go. My room hisses around me and I can think straight. I can think about why she would be upset. What reason does she actually have for being upset? There aren’t any. So instead of giving a shit of why she is upset with me I run my fingers through my hair and I sit and I think about how my family wants to go to all of Ben’s baseball games in the spring and how stupid of a plan that is. I can imagine us all sitting in the crowd and everything fixated with Ben would turn into a ball of light and then you have me in a heap of grunge. I would just sit in between my parents as they cheered for him and I will only stare at a small speck in the middle of the field. The door opens after I listen to my thoughts. She pulls my covers from me and walks into my closet. Clothes land on my back and for a second, I feel like I’ll start suffocating under the heap of clothes on top of me.

"Put your god damn clothes on!" she cries. I look to her as she wipes her tears from her face. Who the hell does she think she is? I don’t think it’s okay to scream at me for no reason and considering our circumstances it only makes me want to scream at her for a fraction longer than I usually would have. I’ve never been afraid of her because she has never been scary and that one thing will always remain the same but I bite back on words before I decide to talk because, of course, she is already crying and I decide to have a calmer approach to it all so that maybe she’ll leave

"Why the hell are you crying? Do you feel like you've lost control or something?" I lift from the pillow and I pull my arms into the air to stretch.

"Penny put your clothes on." I lift. She sits in silence as I look back for the clothes. My hands find the black dress but I drop it on the floor after looking at it. "God Penny don't you see that we only love you."

"I was joking." I yell. I pull off the chunky sweater and I flash this cheeky smile at myself. But, when is Ben going to get here?

"Please just be my daughter again." she sniffles. I grab my towel and I throw it to her as she sniffles and she wipes her eyes with it slowly rubbing the material afterwards. Her eyes fix onto me. “You would be so pretty in that dress Pens.”

"Get out please." I request. I hate the nickname. I’d rather people sit around and call me Pantcie-Poo on end. Ben walks into my room and scoffs as he lets his eyes climb around the boxes and crap. He lets out a silly laugh and throws the food onto my bed letting his key ring revolve around his finger.

"Here" he laughs. He leans against the post and watches me as my mother quickly wipes the tears from her eyes. “What’s wrong?” he tries to sound sympathetic but I can tell that he isn’t because his voice is bland and he’s barely even asking a question.

"Get your clothes on please.” She asks softly. Her eyes flick to Ben. “I’m fine Ben.” I laugh and walk to my closet.

"There's a lady in the living room." Adam joins him in the doorway. "Hey." I sigh slipping into my closet.

"Everyone get out of my room please." I ask softly. When I was younger I would lock myself in this dark box and with its darkness came the matching clothes. All of my clothes are dark. Every item I wear barley has color to it. I choose to be blank like my feelings sometimes. I look around my dark closet plastered in whites and blacks and pinks, pinks? Pinks! I look to my mother then back into the closet. I pull forward looking around for my clothes, my jeans. Dresses line the walls. I could go for a scream. I stomp forward and I pull toward the back to see nothing but skirts and dresses. Blouses tuck away into the drawers and my hands find things and I pull them from the drawers and I pull the hangers and I pull the shoes and everything goes falling to the ground. "Get out of my room!" I pull through the clothes throwing them all to the ground screaming as I pull out the dresses. All of my jeans are thrown away. I scream even louder throwing things that I'd already even thrown looking for my sweat shirts.

"Penny calm down." I hear. I don’t know who the voice belongs to because at this moment everything as dropped a couple of octaves so that I can hear my panic. Hearing my panic makes an even more dramatic situation. I continue to throw things and drop things and slam things. A hand lands on my shoulder slowly pulling me back away from the clothes and I perhaps help it pull me away from the mess because as of now, my hands hurt from its encounter with objects. I push back looking into Adams eyes. He holds out his hand with an eye brow up. His face is serious and he slowly starts to slide things out of my reach. I scream and I drop to the floor. The tears threaten to come from my eyes at some point but I don’t know whether that was before my mother enters the closet entrance or after.

"Just leave me alone." I cry and my heart pounds. My mother watches and I hope her heart drops. "You are a very sad human being." I cry from underneath my hands. I pull my hair over my face to hide the tears peaking from my eyes.

"She's only trying to help." Ben tells me nonchalantly. I ignore him though because he doesn’t know anything and for all I know he could be on drugs right this second and no one knows because none of us witnessed him do it.

"Ben if I wanted to wear a dress I would." I propose. I feel him get upset.

"Well you've been acting like a bitch." He declares. “Quit your crying you blade runner.”

"Maybe I've always been a bitch. You guys never even pay attention to me so you wouldn't even know how I really am." I let the blade runner play at the back of my head though… partly, because I am a blade runner, half because I would love to know where he’d gotten that from, the other fourth is because it is mean and it wants to allow itself to echo at the back of my head just like all of the other things.

"Just put on a god damn dress." he cries. I bite my tongue with no response. I look to my mother then to Ben. In between the two I see these monsters that are placed on earth to taunt me. They taunt me and only me. I walk to my dresser and I pull the big white box from on top of it. I look into her eyes as I dump it out onto the floor. Razors and folded scraps of paper fall from the box. The junk sprinkles my floor and I lift a razor from the pile and I look at it. My eyes then make light of hers. I put the sharp tip to my skin running it across my arm staring into her eyes. To me, this is equivalent to Ben doing drugs in front of the family. He’s done a bump or two in front of my parents and they never actually care to notice. She covers her mouth and looks to Ben who starts toward me. I feel like maybe he’ll punch me in the face or something and I am afraid. He gets closer to me and the closer he gets the more afraid I am. I pull my wrist into my hand and I back away. This moment of my life is a possession and it doesn’t feel as sweet as it usually does when I am all alone in my room with the lights down. Adam leaves us all. My mother sobs and I know she can't register what I'd just done because I can even register what I’ve done. I feel horribly bad now. I pass it forward to her and my mind still can’t register anything. Ben grabs that blade from my hand and he sighs to himself.

Maybe I do need help. Maybe I do need to sit in front of someone for an hour a day to talk about feelings. Maybe u need someone that will understand me at least a little. I know that for one thing, I need someone to help me not hurt the people around me. Ben starts for the box and picks everything up from the floor. His hands fumble for all of the metal and I slowly sink further away from him. I can’t even cry anymore. I can only stand so far away from him that my knees smash into the back of my bed. He walks out of my room leaving her to cry. I felt bad by then but my body was angry.

"I can see it in your face." I start. "You hate me." she cries harder. I would hug her but she is too sad and an oddly fragile and if I hug her she might explode. I can see that she hates me and it makes me a little sad because if she hates me no one will ever love me. Her love is supposed to be unconditional and the fact that she cries even harder after my conclusion and her mouth stays shut helps me understand he hatred for me. She feels bad about hating me. She feels bad because she knows she isn’t supposed to hate me. I groan as the tears creep from my eyes and the room around me blurs out. I can’t express how sorry I am so I don’t but deep don’t inside, I know that I’m a very sorry person. She walks out of the room leaving me to stand.

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