Rooming with the Bad Boy

Fourteen.

“You’re right, it won’t. But it’ll help me be here for you instead of keeping everything bottled up inside you.” I murmured sympathetically.

“Don’t start using that tone with me. And stop looking at me like that as well. I don’t need your empathy.” He scowled.

I frowned, growing angry with his sudden approach. “You were fine five minutes ago! Go back to being your civil self that doesn’t have anger issues and tell me what happened. If you don’t, I don’t tell you my story.”

“Fine.” He growled, before shoving a bunch of potato chips into his mouth. I waited as he chewed them loudly, then swallowed in the same manner.

“Are you done?” I asked sardonically.

He nodded with a sarcastic smile before looking down at the bag of chips in front of him. “When we were younger, my mother started drinking real bad. She was always drunk or severely hung over. Ness – My sister, Vanessa, always tried to shield me away from seeing my mother at her worst. Most of the time her attempts failed. My mum would always come into our room before we slept and gave us each a kiss goodnight and told us she loved us. I didn’t notice it then… but it used to affect Nessa a lot.”

Caleb frowned at the memory before his jaw clenched. “My dad was always working. We barely saw him; I think that’s what made my mother start drinking. When he did make an appearance, they’d start fighting and he’d storm out of the house while she’d start crying. Vanessa was always there for me when it happened. She’d take me to our room and she’d hug me while making up a weird story that would always make me laugh.” He smiled to himself, like he was reliving a past memory with his sister.

“My mum died when I was 8 years old. Apparently some fucking dick spiked her drink at the bar. The drug, on top of her excessive amount of alcohol she consumed that night took its toll on her really bad. She died before they could even get her to the hospital.”

“Caleb I’m so sorry.” I whispered, reaching out to put a comforting hand on top of his own.

He shook his head repeatedly, disregarding the gesture. “We should have seen it coming. It was expected.” A bitter tone rang out.

“She was still your mom at the end of the day. She loved you, and you loved her. You can never get over that; no matter how much you try to cover it up with anger.” I stated, giving him a knowing look. He didn’t answer, and we sat in silence for a few minutes while the story sunk in. “I’m here for you, you know. If you want to talk about her to me; I’m here.”

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Caleb muttered, avoiding eye contact.

“Okay. I was just letting you know.”  I sighed. “Wait, I thought you said your sister killed… oh my god.” I whispered, looking back at him with wide eyes.

Caleb met my eyes then, knowing that I had come to the realisation I had come to. “After that, we had to move in with our grandmother because my dad still didn’t think taking care of his own children was more important than work. Vanessa wasn’t adjusting well to the change – or to my mother’s death. She started hanging out with the wrong people. She came home really early morning or sometimes didn’t come back for a few days at all. It made my grandmother worried sick.”

“What about your dad?” I asked hesitantly.

A harsh laugh escaped Caleb’s lips. “My ‘dad’ never even visited us after we moved. The only sign of him still existing was the money he sent my grandmother every week to feed and clothe us. I think that was another reason Vanessa did… what she did. I… I still remember the day I accidentally walked into the bathroom and caught her cutting herself. Her wrists… they were-” he cleared his throat, “you couldn’t see the skin anymore. The blood covered her arms and it was dripping… onto the floor, in the sink, sinking into her clothes. She was wearing light blue jeans. The blood turned brown on them. It looked so out of place.”