Saints & Sinners

Chapter Twenty-Three

A.N. AGATHA has kind of been absent for a while, since Sebby has been hating on her. SHE RETURNS! Image of Julia Roberts that could make even me go straight. She is just so handsome here, I love her.

Chapter Twenty-Three:

It's safe to say that I'm, sadly, still a virgin. Well, half-virgin, after yesterday.

It was just Tristan. He was just an absolute god, and his lack of insecurities was beginning to rub off on me. I don't know much about fate, but what I do know is that Tristan and I had something I liked to think was special, we had this bond, and not just because we were so unlike each other.

Certainly, he was brave and outspoken, completely secure and breath-takingly loveable, but what was I? I was - key word: was - a broken little thing, with no true redeeming qualities other than the fact that I was hardly talkative, seemingly kind and gentle and a little witty or whatever, but broken nonetheless.

Tristan was just so confident about everything. Himself, his friends, his goals and his aspirations. He was just so sure, and he was just so confident. And I knew that I could never even hope to be so confident with myself as he was. I knew that I just naturally wasn't a very confident person, and that's okay.

Well, it's only okay so long as I don't take it as a flaw anymore. I think the problem was that I didn't really like mysf. If you don't like yourself, you'll end up hating yourself, and that'll take you down a long road that isn't remotely yellow-bricked.

But I'd found a better way, I guess. I had Tristan, and my friends, and because of that, I was becoming better. And Tristan had forced himself to become more sociable now that he didn't have that secret weighing on his shoulders, I'd encouraged him to get back with his friends, and so he did.

But there was one thing that still irked me about this entire situation: my aunt. The only family I had, yet, on my first day in town, she remained one of those bastards that got some sick sexual thrill from seeing me being beaten to a pulp.

I knew I'd have to confront her, I'd been playing the old dodging game ever since I'd found out because, honestly, it was so repulsive that I didn't even want to entertain the idea of discussing it with her, never mind forgiving her. I kept telling myself that I'd cross that bridge when I came to it, and I decided that I'd finally came to it.

I gently tapped on the counter of her brown kitchen, the sound echoing hallowly throughout the house, to get her attention. She snapped out of her daze, stiffly turning to face me. Agatha, the woman with no class, personality, and barely any remaining dreg of humanity left inside. Her soul was as grey as her eyes, cold and empty and petty. She pursed at me, her pale face tightening and her eyes squinting at me devilishly.

"What, boy?" she seethed.

"I know what you did."

"What is this? What do you know, who've you been talking to?" She rushed over to me quickly, as if I knew her darkest secrets.

"Nobody," I told her.

"You listen to me, boy, I don't know who you've been talking to, but there were no drugs, they are all liars. Who did you hear it from? Was it Olga? Oh, that evil bitch! She's a liar, don't pay attention to her. She's Russian, you can never trust the Russians - commy bastards, if you ask me - but there's no crystal meth, okay?" she insisted, wandering freely around the room as if she was extremely busy. In actuality, this woman sat in a chair all day, giving terrible therapist advice to her patients that probably only made their problems worse.

"Aunt Agatha," I began, standing there awkwardly.

"No, you listen here, okay. Right, yes, I admit it, there was a little meth. But It's purely medicinal, I promise. And it's not like I'm distributing it!"