Fighting For Her Heart

Break In

Break In

18

I'm walking up the stairs to Jase's house. It's 3 am, but he is probably still awake. He usually gets home from work on Saturdays at 2 am, and the lights are on in his house.

Am I worried about showing up at his door after I broke his heart?

Yes.

Do I care?

Not in the slightest.

I mean I care about his feelings and how I hurt him, but not about showing up uninvited. It's raining, again. I walk up his front steps and set my two bags down. Then I walk around the side of his house and climb up the grate. Then I jump over the railing of his small balcony, being careful not to knock over his $2,000 telescope.

He loves that thing more then me. Too soon?

I pick his lock, but notice it wasn't locked in the first place. I quietly push open the door and I am in his bedroom. Score! I made it inside with out him noticing. I'm good. But this isn't my first time either.

Outside his bedroom is a staircase that leads to the kitchen. I can see from over the top of the stairs he is sitting at his computer. I go down the stairs into the kitchen, careful not to step on the creaky boards.

Once in the kitchen I tiptoe to his massive fridge, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer. I find a clean spoon next to the sink and dig in. I sit myself ontop of his kitchen island. Wow, this is good ice cream. Why bother with a bowl. I hear him walking from his living room to the kitchen. The light are off in here so I probably look like a creepy shadow sitting on his counter top. He flicks on the switch and jumps back when he sees me.

"What the hell are you doing in my house!" He shouts he is wearing only his Lord of the Rings boxers. Classic Jase.

"Eating ice cream." I mumble with my mouth full of ice cream.

"How long have you been there?" He asks. 

"5 minutes." I shrug. He grabs a spoon and sits next me on the counter.

"Why didn't you come to the front door like a normal person?" I give him a look. "Oh yeah, I forgot you're not normal." I smirk.

The whole night we stayed up talking. About where I've been and what I've been doing. I left out the whole Alex/Trevor situation. I think it's still too soon.

                                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been almost 6 months since I left. I've been here for 2 weeks now. I haven't seen my dad but I do talk to Lara almost every night. I told her about my mom.

It's a boring Monday. I walk up the stairs to the room I'm renting out here at Jase's house. Well he won't let me pay him for anything, all he says is I have to vacuum, not touch his computers, buy groceries and cook. Simple enough. He does write software codes for crying out loud, he does have a pretty penny or two.

I sit on the floor of my room and reach for the wooden box. I grab the box from under my bed and run my fingers over the pattern on the lid. The design was of small wisps flowing through one another. I raise the lid and the music plays, What a Wonderful World. Tears prick at my eyes from the memories flooding my mind. I wipe the tears with the back of my sleeve.

It's my mom's box. The one I stole from my dad's closet, the same one he didn't know I knew about.

Laying ontop is my mom's wedding rings. I fiddle with them and set the rings beside me.

Next I grab a stack of letters that are wrapped in a red ribbon. The letters are love notes from my dad to my mom when they were dating. It's so overly sweet, it makes me sick. I carefully lay them next to the rings.

My eyes land on an ultrasound photo with my name and date written on the back of the picture.

Tapped to the back of the photo, in a small bag is a lock of my hair from my first hair cut. The blonde hair in the bags curls a bit.

I look at the contents of the rest of the box, I notice the ugly lined paper my mom put in. My mom got this box when she was young and sometime back In the 70's so the paper goes with the decade. It's a yellow poppy type flower that has faded and browned from the years.

A corner of the paper is torn off. I pick at it and the paper peels away. I rip a big section of it and there is a faded space from where an envelope had been left there and made an imprint. I run my fingers over the faded square on the box.

I rummage threw the objects one last time. Something small falls from the stack of letters. I pick it up and run my fingers over it.

It's a torn piece of paper. There is a blue inscription on it. The paper is folded. I slide the small piece into my back pocket.

I have to get out of this house. I've been a prisoner here for a few days.

I grab my boots and a hat, walking out the front door. I'll go to the store. Maybe I'll get some things for dinner. The brisk Portland air nips at my ears and cheeks, probably turning them pink. I tug my beanie down further on my head. I haven't seen anyone that knew me from my past life. If someone recognized me they would report to my dad. Then he would be in a frenzy.

I feel like an ex-convict coming back home. Except I don't want to be home. Maybe they don't either.

Probably not, I mean why would a criminal want to come back to a town that thinks he is guilty and hate him.

Wait why am I on the subject of criminals?

I look all around the neighborhood. It's the middle of the work day, kids are in school and adults at work. It's fairly empty for a Tuesday. A black truck drives down the road. I look up at the driver and freeze where I'm walking. Before I can think I throw the hood up on my jacket and run to hide behind some bushes. I hear the tires screech. The truck drives into the driveway of the house whose bushes I'm hiding in. After a few minutes the truck backs off and drives very fast down the street. Maybe he didn't see me. Or maybe he was in a daze or didn't recognize me.

How come in these situations you always have to pee or sneeze?

I go back walking on my way. Every five seconds I look over my shoulder.

So grocery list:

Eggs

Milk

Bread

Pasta sauce

Noodles

Hair dye. Yeah definitely hair dye.

Maybe next time my dad won't check to see if it's me walking down the street.