Drugged Hearts

o n e » tryston

     "Brooks, where have you been? For a second there, I thought you weren't going to show up."

     He propped himself on his elbows and made it his duty to eyeball me as I grabbed my feet to the couch opposite the one he was lying on. "Well, you thought wrong. Again," I muttered enough for him to hear as I threw my exhausted self onto the couch, letting my head sink into the nearest cushion my hand could grab. He let out a sigh accompanied with a mocking smile, tucking his hands behind his head as he went back to the lying position he was in before I walked in.

     "Well, you were in school a bit too long. Again."

     "I told you I've been studying at the library. What's with the interrogation, dad?" I spilled into the cushion, moving my eyes to see his back arcing so slightly it can go unnoticed as he chuckled loudly.

     "Ah, the irony. The fact that you nicknamed me the farthest person I could be to you. I mean, a dad wouldn't kill his son now, would he?" Cameron said, licking his lips as his irises danced in amusement once they lay on me. I smirked, sitting up right.

     "If he needed a mental hospital such as the one you are in desperate need of, then yes; yes, he would," I retaliated, trying to hide the shiver that ran throughout my body once Cameron's eyes stopped dancing and kindled a fire.

     "You start studying at home, from now and on. I don't like the whole library thing till ten p.m. Got me?" He said in an almost-whisper, and I nodded, standing up and heading to the staircase without another word. That was the wise thing to do; just bite my tongue and go to the comfort of my room.

     As the silence engulfed the room and granted the clock's ticking full entrance to wash over my eardrums, I shuffled my face deeper into the pillow, closing my eyes as my breath halted because of the pressure of the pillow against my entire features. I didn't mind it; I let the suffocation drag me in and provide utter serenity. I managed to lift my eyelids, watching the darkness despite the light that bounced off all the room's walls. Letting out a sigh, I moved my head to the side so that my right cheek was pressed to the pillow and stared at the door.

     The library was my only way to escape the bird cage I was trapped in; the only way for my lungs to work normally without wanting to escape the rib cage they were trapped in. Having a privilege such as that one taken away was another lock added to the cage's door, lessening my chances to have a normal social life outside the four brick walls I've called home for years. I closed my eyes, letting torn images, fragments of memories, and cut phrases drag me to oblivion as the way I turned a slave to Cameron crawled its way to my mind.

     I was a confused, twelve year old orphan. An orphan no one wanted as his or her own; a kid that was known for being a good for nothing brat. It wasn't the worst thing that could happen, but it wasn't a magical kingdom with flowers and rainbows; it was actually way far from that.

     I would say I was no angel. The basement's 'room of doom' - as the orphans called it - was my second room, and the intimidating atmosphere it had didn't take toll on me as I grew accustomed to it. I studied it, nook by nook, until I found a vent at the right lower corner of the room. Day after day, I snuck in a screwdriver and then bread; if I got hungry. And a few more days later, I was in the vent and squeezing out of the orphanage. I knew right then how victory tasted; it tasted like chocolate and orange juice.

     It was in late December, but the cold that pierced through my bare arms and feet didn't faze me as I skipped to a nearby grocery, flipping the few coins I got from shoe cleaning throughout the day in the air. That day I bought a chocolate bar and - since it was a lucky day in Edgewood - a juice box. I bet the whole subdivision woke up from my stomach's growling, but that would be exaggerated as I wasn't even that hungry. I ran once I saw a hill nearby and sat on top of it, unwrapping the bar in my numb hands as I crossed my legs on the damp grass.