8 3.3: A Bottle and A Brush (1/2)
~WHO SAID WE ALL BLEED THE SAME WAY?~
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I never thought I'd wish to return to the Darkoom, but I guess our circumstances define our necessities.
Here I am, standing in- oh well, Joshua's (my ex-boyfriend) room. And, yes, it's still midnight. And nope, he isn't fucking some lady or jerking off. Surprisingly, he's just seated on his desk and sketching something.
Did I mention that he's a very talented artist which was a major turn-on for me back in the days? Joshua, and I first talked in sophomore year when he slid in my locker a sketch of my face on a napkin. Classy, and romantic, I know, but that's what makes him a snake. His tongue is like a fucking bee. Drops sweet, sweet words like honey, but its sting would make you numb as fuck.
Nope, more of a snake.
His head, covered by a black beanie, is lowered, and the sound of a pencil against paper is all I can hear. I walk toward his desk confidently and sit on its edge like I've done many nights when we'd argue. I look down at what he's drawing. A rose or something.
He lifts his head up with a heavy sigh, and drops the pencil, stretching his long, slender fingers. His hands are covered in paint, pencil smudges, and correction pen- something that would've given me an aneurysm if I was alive.
I know I should feel somewhat morose when I look at him because as much as I hate to admit it, I loved him, and he ditched me and was a reason behind my self-loathing. Seeing his soft auburn curls that I've memorized their texture escape from beneath his beanie, definitely brings back lots of intimate memories that he's decided as worthless.
He's roughly handsome with dark-brown eyes and a strong jaw. He loves keeping his stubble despite how much trouble he gets for it in school. There's a smudge of pink paint beneath his left eye that does remind me of how I angrily (more like desperately) knocked down all his paint bottles the day we broke up.
Well, he might look like a soft boy with an athletic figure, but I promise you he's the worst type you'd wanna associate yourself with.
So as I stare at him while he stares at the ceiling, I wonder if he's thinking about me. If this rose he's drawing reminds him of me. His good ol' Rose. I wonder if he'd shed a tear when he gets to know. If he'd honour our so-called 'love'.
If he'd truly make me regret ever being with him in my life, instead of noticing other people like William.
I take a deep breath, waiting for that stupid notification that tells how dead I am to people, but it doesn't seem to come even though it's a quarter after midnight now.
Maybe his phone's on silent mode. Or maybe my brothers thought him unworthy of knowing.
Suddenly his room's door gets yanked open, and his head snaps down. He and I look sideways at the door before he sighs wearily, and I raise my eyebrows. Selena. His older only sibling.
”I seriously gave up on asking you to fucking knock-” He rasps, and I can't say I don't miss his voice.
”If only you didn't keep up that fucking attitude of yours-” She snaps, chewing loudly on her gum.
”Okay-” Joshua rolls his eyes. ”What now?”
”Get your ass down, and help me with Papa-” She says, leaning against the door.
”Papa, huh?” He looks away and absently picks up a pencil, his shoulders dropping. ”He doesn't-”
”I know-” Selena says wistfully, and I frown because I don't. ”You know I'm helpless with him-”
Joshua inhales deeply, then exhales loudly, rubbing his face with his dirty hands. He then gets up, all tall, and mighty in his white, paint-splotched shirt, and baggy, grey sweatpants before he gestures for Selena to leave first.
He then takes off his beanie, exposing his mess of auburn curls, throws it on his messy bed, and leaves the room. I stand alone, and clueless, thinking about how Joshua's face fell upon the mentioning of his father.
Joshua never talked to me about his family, but he'd only occasionally mention a thing or two about Selena. I always knew it was a sensitive topic for him, and I never pushed it.
Following him seemed to be the only thing to do, but it also felt wrong. Like an invasion of privacy. However, I really don't think I have a choice. Somehow, supposedly, everything that happens from the moment I appear until the moment I leave is relevant to my death.
It's like I'm in a video game, programmed for one certain path, and incapable of making my own decisions. So in order for the 'game' to continue, according to my understanding, I have to follow him.
I take a deep breath, and slip through the door crack to find myself in front of the same huge staircase he'd carry me over after a hard party when no one was home.
I sigh, descend the stairs impossibly silently (I probably float around really), and then stop in my tracks when I hear a loud crash. I rush down, and with a gasp, I find Joshua standing in front of Selena, arms open, seemingly protecting her from something. Or someone.
I round a corner, and my eyes fall on David- Joshua's father- as he stands amongst shards of green glass. He stands thin and tall, even taller than Joshua with the mouth of a broken beer bottle in his bleeding right hand.
He's wearing a black shirt with a hole that exposes his navel, and a heavy grey moustache on his sweaty, dirt-smudged face. His beady eyes are narrowed at Joshua's parted lips and Selena's angry scowl.
If I don't know better, I'd say Joshua's frightened.
David drags his left hand across his nose with a sniff and assumes a threatening stance. ”Give me yer money-” He then slurs out while lifting a brow at Selena.
”I ain't gon' give it to you, Papa-” Selena says defiantly. ”I ain't gonna harm you-” She then looks away from her father, slightly nudging Joshua's elbow.
”Papa, it's her money-” Joshua says collectedly.
”Shut up you waste of breaths, and words-” David snaps, and I frown at how harsh he is. ”Go back to yer-” He waves his arm around before burping. ”Go back to yer room, and do yer stupid 'art'-”
Joshua clenches his jaws, his eyes set solidly on his father's figure, and I know I should feel a bit of joy for the despondency on his face, but I simply don't feel anything of that sort. I feel bad for him, and it's pathetic.
I step closer to Joshua, and Selena as David staggers toward him with a scowl.
”You're so useless-” David hisses close to Joshua's face. ”-you can't even protect yer sister from me-” He then raises the broken bottle in his son's face. ”You're even more useless than that bottle-” He then laughs to himself as Joshua clenches his fists.
I grimace.
”Papa that's enough!” Selena snaps, and David looks sincerely taken aback, but instead of attacking her, he looks back at Joshua with a smirk.
”You're taking her away too, eh?” He says, locking eyes with him, and I frown in confusion. What does he mean?