Mess

Chapter Seven

Scott. Honestly, I’m surprised that he left. For everyone else, it’s understandable, but I don’t know, maybe I expect too much of him because I thought he would be the one I would weep in the arms of. I thought he would be here with me right now, telling me it’s okay even though it’s not, holding me and comforting me and being but instead I sit here on my bedroom floor alone in the dark, trying to trying to process all the catastrophic information I found out only four and a half hours ago.

I think about Evie, and if she really saw Dylan and Serena together. I think about Noah, and if he really kissed Raymond, if Evie ever knew. I wonder if Serena is simply bullshitting and I am stressing out for no reason at all but I don’t want to think. The myriad questions encircling my mind are dizzying and the thoughts swimming around aimlessly in the ocean of my conscious are at a constant danger with the tide high and strong.

I sigh, knowing what I should do. I grab my car keys from my nightstand before going downstairs and starting my car.

*****

I’m not even tired, I couldn’t be. My subconscious is fighting quicksand, clawing to keep its head above the surface before I am consumed by myself. Forcing myself into slumber is not a good idea right now, not like I could anyway.

Hopefully Sean doesn’t hear me leave, I don’t want to stress him out or anything. He’s already worried from the bad mood I was in when he got home, and as much as I feel bad, I just can’t put up a front. I wish I could, I used to stress him out far too much during my intense grieving period—I would sit in my room simply enduring the dull twenty-four hours of a day, ignoring the thought: I could share this feeling with someone else, someone who is also grieving. Dad. When I did realise that I couldn’t stare at my lifeless wall for hours on end, I decided to avoid all feeling through partying and drinking and being wild to numb my soul. I was so angry at the Universe for taking her and even though I have tried my best not to be angry anymore, I still am. I’ll always be.

I’ve decided that I am going to make a series of trips. I feel like Frodo Baggins on the journey to freaking Mordor to destroy not a ring, but the pressing conflict amongst my group of friends. God I’m so weird for that analogy.

It’s nearly midnight and I’m only just realising I could’ve gone in the morning. Oh well. I’m very awake and it’s more dramatic this way.

-

I arrive at the one-storey condo where Wanda lives with her sister before walking up to the side of the house and knocking on the window that I know is from her room. I knock softly on the glass multiple times before giving up and searching my pockets for my cell. I dial her number and she answers on the second ring, her voice croaky and unbroken.

“Sky?”

“Hey, Wanda. Do me a favor and open your window? Damn, you’re a heavy sleeper.” I say and she laughs before hanging up. For a moment I’m slightly worried that she’s forgotten about this whole exchange and has drifted off back to sleep, but seconds later I’m trying to squeeze through her small window.

“Why didn’t you just ask me to open the front door?” She struggles to say as she pulls my arms through.

“I, don’t…know!” I say as I fall straight through, the bottom of the window frame suddenly gliding smoothly over my butt. Wanda laughs and switches on the light and I examine my surroundings, realising how much someone’s room can reflect their personality. Wanda literally, has no wallpaper or paint visible because her walls are completely plastered with posters, lined with celebrities like Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, or bands like The Beatles and Pink Floyd. So vintage. I like it. But I can’t see or even walk on her floor due to all the clothes and makeup and shit covering it. I speak when I finish admiring her room.