051; real life

97 10 10

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Awsten sorts through the boxes in the attic, finding many of his old lost things in them.  He doesn't understand how some of the stuff even ended up there.  Seriously, how did she end up with his old gym shirt from high school? Most the stuff in attic is his, at least it was before it ended up here. There's one box of stuff that Awsten guesses belonged to Emily's parents, and two boxes labeled Ben's Room, that Awsten confirms contain items that probably belonged to Ben when he was younger. From that and the photos in the one photo album not filled with pictures of Awsten, Awsten can tell that it seems Ben lived here and grew up here with Emily, which is probably why he wanted the house so bad.

If Ben hadn't gone about trying to get the house the way he did, Awsten probably would've given it to him, and he does feel a little bad destroying someone's childhood home but he doesn't consider not doing it and letting Ben have the house.  He sets aside the boxes of Ben's things and the photo album with the family pictures.  The rest of the stuff gets dragged down from the attic and the outside.  The temptation to actually go through with burning it all is overwhelming but Awsten forces that back, simply tossing it all in the trash instead.  Seeing how full the trash bin already is, he quickly googles where to rent dumpsters from and gets two plus one for things that can be recycled. 

Knowing he has to wait on those to be delivered, he heads back inside to work on getting things sorted out.  He decides the pots and pans will all be recycled, along with the silverware.  Plates and bowls and cups should all be trash.  He finds an old mug during his cleaning and frowns, something between anger and bitterness welling up in him.

The mug is chipped.  He remembers exactly why.  He'd been washing dishes and Emily came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him.  He'd been shocked and dropped the mug and it chipped.  Emily had been angry, yelling at him and hitting him all because of a tiny chip in his own mug.  It wasn't even hers, though he never did touch it again after that until now.

He knows Elijah said making a mess of things and breaking them wouldn't help and he knows Elijah was right but he can't stop himself from throwing the mug across the room so it hits the wall and shatters.  He goes still after that, tensing up as if waiting for something to happen.  It's only after a few still, silent moments that it finally sinks in that there's no one here to get angry at him.

He almost throws another, just to prove he can, but holds back from doing so, simply piling it all into trash bags.  As soon as the dumpsters are delivered, Awsten signs for them and then starts dragging out the full bags and dropping them into the dumpsters.  Once the kitchen is cleared out, a few things that are still in boxes that were never opened set aside to be donated and everything that had ever been used and become associated with unpleasant memories in the dumpsters, Awsten moves on to the the dining room.  He gets the table and chairs outside, suddenly once again toying with the idea of loading up the fire pit in the back with some of this stuff and watching it all burn.  He pushes the idea out of his head, grabbing some tools from the shed and taking apart the table and chairs to throw the pieces in the dumpster.

By noon, he's sweaty and shaking from not having eaten yet today but he's gotten quite a bit done.  All the pictures downstairs are off the walls and in the dumpsters, along with any other random decorations from downstairs.  He's getting out the TV from the living room now, ready to set it aside for a little section of electronics to be recycled since those can't go in the same bin as the rest.  He almost laughs at the sight of the relatively new TV out on the overgrown grassy front yard.  What a waste, he thinks to himself bitterly, shaking his head.

He'd expected to be a lot more emotional with all this than he is, to have a few breakdowns and cry.  So far, all he really is is angry and bitter.  Even with Emily gone, he's stuck dealing with her mess.  He can't help but be annoyed by that fact. He wonders if that's why she left everything to him. She decided that, in case she was gone before him, he should have to be stuck with the burden of handling all that she left behind.  A final fuck you moment from her to him.  He prefers that to his other thought on it.  He hopes it isn't the case but a part of him wonders that, since she somehow believed he actually loved her, she also thought he'd actually want this stuff.  He really hopes she didn't think that.

He keeps working on getting everything he can out to the dumpsters, knowing some things he'll need help with.  He really doesn't want to ask anyone to come here but he can't do all of this by himself.  He still hasn't even been able to go into Emily's room yet, avoiding it as if his life depends on doing so. He can't bring himself to touch the chains either, leaving those where they're clipped to the walls. He wonders what the cops must have thought when they came in, saw the collection of chains and the blood soaked floor and Emily's body laying dead with a smile on her face. Would the smile have gone away eventually? He hopes so.

He avoids dwelling on the too long, bringing stuff out from the downstairs bathroom and adding it to one of the dumpsters. He starts tearing down curtains next, throwing the curtains in the trash dumpster and the rods that went with them in the recycle. He can't wait to never see any of this ever again. He moves on to one of the two bathrooms upstairs, emptying it out and throwing everything away. He gets the loft upstairs as empty as he can and does the same with the hallway, tearing down pictures and decorations and tossing them into a trash bag. His eyes dart towards the guest room, deciding to avoid that too for now. He hasn't touched the downstairs guest room either yet.

He drops the bags from upstairs into the dumpster and wipes away some sweat on his forehead, taking in a deep but unsteady breath. He's really starting to regret not bringing a water bottle, or maybe five. Gas and water have already been turned off for the house meaning he can't just go get some water from the sink. He only left the electricity on because he knew he'd need the lights to be able to see when he came to get this done. Otherwise, he saw no point in paying gas and water bills on a house he plans to demolished.

He sits down for a moment on the steps up to the porch, debating with himself on whether or not he wants to call and ask someone to bring him some food and water or just go get some himself.  He knows he has to eat have something to drink pretty soon, it's already getting close to evening time and he still hasn't done either of those things yet today. If he asks someone, he knows whoever comes would likely offer to stick around and help and he probably would have trouble saying not to that with how tired he already is, and if he said no that would just make whoever it is worry anyway. If he goes to get it himself, he has to go through with forcing himself to come back and finish off the day and he's almost entirely certain he wouldn't return again today if he left.

After spending a bit of time thinking about it, he decides that, since he needs help anyway, just asking would be his best option.

He texts Jawn, asking him if he's not busy and could bring some food and water over and, if he has time, help move some things. Jawn agreed to it easily, promising to be there soon and, when Awsten double checks to make sure Jawn isn't stopping anything to come help him, assures him that he hadn't had too much else going on.

Exhausted with the day and needing a break, Awsten decides to just sit and wait for Jawn outside. Just sit and wait.

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