92 days

twenty-six

Tw: mentions of struggles with body image/ drug use

Not edited, sorry I'm sick asf

—

Roman

There was absolutely no way I was getting sleep tonight.

Especially not here.

How am I supposed to listen to my mother laugh with her new boyfriend she tries to hide with the label of a friend. When all he's doing is leading her further down a path I'm trying so hard to pull her off of.

Line after line.

Needle after needle.

Laugh after laugh.

God, It makes me sick.

I shoved myself out from under the covers of this small twin bed that creaked with every movement I made. Grabbing my shirt off the floor and throwing it over my head.

I pushed my feet into my shoes and took my phone off the bed, layering my clothing with a hoodie over top and exiting the room with a slam of the door.

This old house holds a bunch of terrible memories that I'm forced to relive every day of my life.

The cracked photos of me and my dad that sit piled up in the corner of the hall, along with the darkest photos that I have learned to ignore when I walk by.

The air smelled toxic.

I walked through the living room to get to the front door, locking eyes with the stubble bearded man. His arm was hung on the back of the couch and his feet perched up on the coffee table along with all the different concoctions of drugs sprawled out all over.

He was alone.

"Where's my mom?" I asked, clenching my jaw at the simple sight of this guy.

"Bathroom." He grunted, his eyes locked on the television the entire time.

I practically stomped down the hall, standing in front of the bathroom door and knocking with the knuckle on my finger. "Mom." I said, listening to the sound of the sink faucet turn off.

The door was snatched open and she stood there in the doorway with her bloodshot eyes, rubbing her hand under her nose in habit by now. "Hi sweetheart, what's wrong? Can't sleep again?" She forced a smile.

I shook my head.

"Spending the night at Jonah's."

She nodded, leaving the doorway and walking in front of me. When she got to the living room, she grabbed her car keys out of the cluster of things on the table and handed them to me.

She plopped herself down onto the couch next to him, I watched him smirk and pull the joint from his lips, handing it to her.

When my eyes wandered to the table then back up to her, she grabbed an old newspaper and threw it over the items, making me practically scoff.

"Do ya' even have a licence kid?" The man chuckled, his yellow teeth apparent in the light of the television.

I ignored him, something I also learned how to do. I began striding past them both and out the front door. My mom hardly ever leaves the house, so the car is barely used unless it's me.

I started up the car and threw my phone on the passenger seat, pulling out of the rocky parking lot, hitting the roads and speeding down the empty streets.

I wasn't going to Jonah's.

Instead I was going to the damn apartment my dad bought me a few months ago.