HEDONISTIC

35. Matty's old bedroom

She also understood young Matty in a way too, her room for instance was the place where she could go and get high or read  without getting distracted, where she could write down her feelings and open her mind (or legs) to new ideas or other things if you know what I mean.

She remembered the many times she had  gone to her room and just write about things that were going around in the world (in her world) that were going to affect her sooner or later, like the her mom's boyfriend and Amber's lesbian lover that was making her friend stop having time with her last year.

Frankie looked around the room plain white walls filled with posters and pictures of Matty with past and current friend the walls broken only by three coloured squares on one side. A big black bed lied lazily in the middle of that wall full of dust. Behind the mirrored slidey doors stand the shelves: once full of colour and clothes. Now they waited, redundant. A box siting in the corner full of childhood memorabelia – nothing more recent.

She thought about looking through it but she was scared about what she would find a soft click made her look at the door for her eyes only to meet soft puppy brown ones disguised with a mob of curly soft looking hair.

Matty, always Matty.

"Hey" He said softly. Frankie didn't deserve this; she didn't know why this was happening to her in the first place, or what was happening exactly.

She just knew that she was tired, she was so fucking tired of it all.

"Hey" She said eyes meeting his. "Frankie, I-" She stopped him. "It's ok, you didn't have to tell me, I understand you're busy." "No, it's not ok. I know I'm a dickhead I should have told you, I'm sorry"

"That doesn't matter, saying you're sorry doesn't mean it's ok for you to be a dick" She muttered- she was right and Matty knew that.

At this point, Frankie wanted to go back to fucking America or flee to any other country on the map, away from that boy, away from the suffering and never come back.

She almost laughed at herself. As if.

Her tolerance to ill treatment was almost nonexistent, she realized, but then again, this shouldn't be happening to her, not without an explanation.

She crossed her arms across her chest, her hand applying too much pressure on her bicep.

"Why?" She asked finally.

"What do you mean?" Matty asked all confusion and furrowed brows.

"Why do you have to be like this?" She exclaimed finally done with his bullshit. "I was ok before you, I'll be ok after. I DON'T CARE. I'll go back to fucking James and anyone that comes in my way, but why? Just why? You knew since the first time you texted me that this would happen, so why did you do it? Are you that selfish? That first time we met in the park I fucking told you but you didn't care and you called me after and that doesn't make any sense. Why did you want me to go to your house when you knew that you were going to leave in two fucking weeks? If you wanted someone to fuck there is a line of underage stupid girls just like me that would be pleased to do it. So tell me please Matty, why? "

"I- I don't know" He said suddenly lost of words.

She sigh getting up from the dent that she made on the old bed going around the boy ready to give Louis any excuse and leave, but she didn't because Matty grabbed her arm before she was able to do so.

He wasn't going to let her go and maybe he was stalling but that didn't matter all that matter was her, he didn't care about Gabby washing the dishes downstairs with his mom or about how fucking morally incorrect and illegal all of this was because at the end of the day Denise might have raised a melodramatic, shallow, and self centered ass with the interest span of a gold fish, but she raised no quitter.