cursing out the moon ➵ a.b.

Chapter 7: The Wicked Witch and Prince Charming

"Alexander, where have you been?"

I could tell who was speaking to me from a mile away, just solely based on what she called me: June.

As soon as I walk through the apartment room door, June just had to bombard me with idiotic questions. Why was she so worried? It's not like I came home crying, bleeding, or emotionally breaking.

I speak while closing the door. I spy Karliah and Russy in the kitchen, probably beginning to fix dinner. "With Andy. I thought you knew that?"

"You've been gone for three hours. I was beginning to worry." June looks at me with a temper. "And that's not all we have to talk about..."

"June, give it a rest," speaks Karliah, setting the table. "You two can talk after dinner." She goes back to the kitchen and disappears.

"I am afraid it is something that cannot wait." June walks briskly to the bedroom shared by the both of us.

Rolling my eyes, I join her in the room. As I walk in, I notice the beige walls spring out at me. The giant bookcase used solely for me stands in the corner. A computer desk with June's old and trashy computer upon it lays on the opposite wall.

"Alexander, you're not going to like this," June sighs, her body hitting the bed with a thump.

I sit on the bed next to her. I spy at her head which is hanging low like she is hiding a huge burden from me. "What do you mean? Is everything all right?" I put my hand on her back, rubbing in circles.

She thrusts my hand off her back and into her own palms. She grabs my other as well. "Alex," she whispers as she looks up at me. It is the first time in my life I hear her use the shortened version of my name. "Did Eden ever..." she chokes, "...rape you?"

I let go of her hands and stand, rushing away from her eyes. I run to the wall, and hit it. I fall to the floor, feeling my eyes tear up. My perfect eyeliner smears, and I collect it on the back of my hand when I wipe it up. I was releasing pain in the form of a liquid.

Quietly, I whimper. I hyperventilate, being reminded of his holy name. I look up at the ceiling, looking and praying for a god to appear in front of me so I could curse them out for placing such heavy burdens on me. My hands find the beaten-down wall and begin scratching at it with my nonexistent fingernails. I place my head on the beige-covered wall, feeling the strong hints of a relapse coming along. I grit my teeth, feeling my insides churn. They were being ripped apart, intestine to intestine, by a demon. I felt myself becoming dizzy, and I began to feel light-headed. Sweet insanity was crawling under my flesh and inside my bones, eating me away before I even had a chance to speak my mind. It felt beautiful in a disgusting and pornographic way.

"How did you know?"

I don't even understand the voice coming out of my throat. It feels like a snake has my tongue, and it is forked. The demon inside of me takes control, taking supreme joy in watching me wish to curl up and die.

I do not look at June. All I hear from her mouth is a solid, "You know me. I-I just...knew."

Suddenly, fire hit my lungs, gut, and head. Raging, I stand up, pointing my finger at her and accusing her of horrible deeds. "You said it was my journal! Couldn't you read between the lines? That's all you're ever good at anyways: finding my secrets and exposing them!" I force the tears away from my eyes, wiping them off before they hardly had a chance to slide down my face. "I can't speak! You know that; you goddamn well know that! Why didn't you figure it out sooner when it could have been prevented!"

June keeps her cool, standing as well. Her firm upright position shows years of wear-and-tear damage. She grew up in a dingy part of Boston, and discipline was always her number one fan. She had self-discipline placed upon herself so well that she could control herself in the most damned and ill of situations. "I figured it was the journal, I honestly did, until I handed it to you and you were shaky. I then knew it had to do with Eden, and I could only assume the worst." She has no emotion. Her strong and forceful Bostonian accent shines through in every word. "I see you have just been bottling up. That is not very healthy. Do you remember what I told you about using your head instead of your heart?"