Obsessive Love Disorder

6

September 28, 1996
Billy

Last night nearly killed me. And I'm not overexaggerating.

Dear old dad came back about fifteen minutes later and took the TV set from my room as well, so I couldn't watch any of my movies or anything. I don't have a computer either, so it was truly lonesome.

I stayed awake until about 9:00 PM, mostly just staring at my ceiling and trying to calm myself down so I didn't do anything crazy, like punch a hole in my wall or jump out my window and break my legs. Anything would've been better than the silence.

After I fell asleep, I had a few nightmares. Average stuff, really — teeth falling out, plummeting from cliffs, the works. All things that I dream about when stressed the fuck out.

I woke up around 3:30 AM to the sound of crying. That's also pretty average. I guess my dad knows how much of a dick he is and wallows in it when he thinks I'm asleep. He's the kind of guy that thinks crying isn't manly or whatever. That true men don't show emotion. Real healthy outlook, huh? I admit, I fall under a few of the same patterns, but I'd rather blame him for teaching me that rather than accept that it's my own doing.

I woke up again at 8:47 AM. At that point, I had a few more nightmares and decided it wasn't worth it to try and get more sleep. Usually on the weekends, I sleep in until around noon, so this is a little strange for me.

I walk downstairs eventually and see my dad sitting at the kitchen table, reading over a few pieces of paper. He doesn't even look up when I stroll past him and into the kitchen for some much-needed coffee. Luckily, there's still a quarter of the pot left.

The whole morning goes by quickly. I manage to sneak some of my things back upstairs (not my TV, though, that shit's too heavy to carry without making a sound). My CD player makes its way back next to my bed, right where it belongs, and I start to feel that burning in my chest fade a bit.

Oh yeah, that burning. It didn't go away the entire night. Every time I woke up from a nightmare or turn my pillow over, it was there, like a stalker in the shadows. Just... waiting. Waiting for what? I'm not sure. But knowing my history, it's better not to know.

I sit at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal, munching loudly and sipping my fourth cup of coffee of the day. It's now around noon, and my dad is chatting happily with someone on the phone in his room. I can't quite make out what he's saying, but by the tone in his voice, it sounds like he just got a new client for work. It takes every muscle in my body not to puke into my cereal when he comes downstairs and claps me on the shoulder.

"I'm gonna need you to head out for a bit, okay?" He smiles down at me. I don't buy it.

"...Why?"

"I've got a new client," he explains. I knew it. "And I've invited them over for lunch to discuss the terms of their legal troubles."

"Why can't you do it at your office?"

A flash of annoyance crosses his face, but is immediately replaced with a mega-watt smile. "I like being personable, son. Having them over here for lunch feels like a good way to show that I trust them."

I take note of his use of pronouns. They, them, their. His new client is most definitely an attractive woman that he wants to schmooze. I wish I knew who she was so I could warn her to find a new lawyer for whatever's going on in her life.

"What am I supposed to do, then?"

"I don't care. Go around town, hang out with Stu or something. As long as you're not here."

Fine. I'll just dump out my bowl of half-eaten cereal and... leave. I guess.

~~~

I called up Stu, but he said he was busy. Doing what, though? I know for a fact that that boy has no weekend plans. Tatum said she was visiting her grandparents, and I definitely do not want to hang out with Sidney one-on-one. So here I am, walking down the main street of Woodsboro by myself like a complete loser. I grabbed a few bucks before I was kicked out so I could check the video store and see if there's anything new, but I sincerely doubt it.