"You flaked on me last night," Amber didn't look up at me from her magazine when I walked through the lobby. I had managed to make it out of the apartment without seeing any of them. I had no idea when the others were supposed to get here, but I had no intentions of being home when they did. I would like to be as far away as possible by the time they stepped foot into LA.
"You guys were arguing," I shrugged, stifling a yawn. I hadn't slept again last night. I tried for hours, but my body simply wouldn't cooperate. I had spent the whole night scrolling through old songs on the iPod I stole from Wren when I was little, and laying in bed staring at the ceiling for hours wondering what I had ever done to the universe to deserve all this shit.
"Yeah, Clay was being a prick. Said my boobs looked bad in the shirt I was wearing."
I rolled my eyes and leaned against the counter. "He's such an asshole, why are you even with him, Amb?"
She sighed and shrugged. "He's good looking, a football player, and not that bad most of the time,"
"He has the brain capacity of a cricket." I reminded, giving her a pointed look.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, so he's no prince charming. At least I have a boyfriend."
"Amber, I'm 12."
She shrugged. "Even still," The door opened behind us, and my heart jumped into my throat, my stomach twisting into a knot, but thankfully, it was only a downstairs neighbor coming in. "Why are you jumpy?" Amber asked with narrowed eyes.
I hesitated for a moment, before leaning closer to her so I could talk quietly. "The rest of them are coming for Christmas. I might murder someone if I have to see them any time before tonight after I've had a chance to talk to Jackson."
Amber hummed. "I knew that already. Emil-he's the tall one with the black hair right?- was down here yesterday talking on the phone and asking how soon the other person could get here."
I frowned. He had asked me if it was alright, but he had already made that decision. I shouldn't have been stupid enough to think he cared what I thought. I can't remember the last time anyone did. Anyone aside from Jackson that is. I hummed, not looking at Amber.
"I'm going to find Jackson," I muttered. I crossed my arms over my chest and grabbed a cigarette out of the pack in my jacket pocket.
Amber shrugged, shuffling some paper. "'K have fun. I'll meet up with y'all later." It didn't feel like Christmas was only three days away. Sure there was the tree downtown, and the skating rink was buzzing, but nothing about it made me feel the least bit festive. It made me feel like the Grinch. I didn't hate Christmas or anything, I just stopped caring a few years ago. Holidays are really sad when you're on your own. It's the time of year that makes you feel so alone it's painful. Last year I didn't even acknowledge the holiday to anyone. Me, Jackson and another kid in our neighborhood, Cal, went to the movies and enjoyed having the theater pretty much all to ourselves for a few hours. It was a pretty good day.
Then I went home and Mom was sobbing, clearly high, and possibly very drunk. So I went upstairs and hid for the rest of the day and tried to pretend it wasn't Christmas. I'd like to say that day was a low point in my and my mother's lives, but really, it wasn't. It was just Thursday. I found Jackson behind Wally's, standing on three unsteady boxes, trying and failing to grab the end of the fire escape ladder. I wouldn't be able to pull himself up even if he did somehow manage to grab the last rung. I watched him in amusement for a moment, ponding why I'm friends with such an idiot.
"It's gonna take more than three boxes, Jacks," I said, smiling up at him.
He looked down at me with a sharp glare. "I'm gonna get it. I know I am." He's been saying that since we were little, and he's no closer to getting it than he was six years ago. But I didn't need to point that out. He wouldn't listen to me anyway.
"I'm sure Jackson." He glared at me again, catching his breath after another unsuccessful jump. I waited until he sat down on the boxes, out of breath, before I burst out laughing.
"It's not funny, I'm gonna make it." He whined.
I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, yeah,"
He sighed, studying me for a moment. "What'd they do now?"
"The rest are coming," I muttered.
He looked at me strangely for a moment, before gasping as if he just understood what I was trying to say. "Oh, poor baby, are gonna be okay? "I kicked him in the shin for the sarcasm. "You know, for someone who hates violence, you hurt me a lot." He groaned in pain.
"You're very hurt-able." I shrugged, handing him a cigarette. He took it and quickly lit the end, taking in a deep breath of smoke, as I did the same. "They're coming tonight. The other two." And hopefully, I wouldn't be there when they did.
"And how do you feel about this?" Jackson asked. He stood up and held his hand out for me to take, which I did without even thinking.
"Well, he asked me if it was okay, and I sorta said yes, but then I found out that he had already made that decision before he asked me." I frowned. The city was rather quiet today. Everyone was at work or school, trying to crunch it all in before the last day before Christmas eve.
"So, they're just solidifying what we already knew, which is, they're assholes." Jackson pulled me down the street gently, his cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth, and his fingers intertwined with mine.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"My apartment," Jackson mumbled, almost hesitant. I raised an eyebrow. "And why are we going there?" Jacks and I went to his apartment all the time, but the way he was acting about it, made me pretty suspicious. Jackson didn't respond for a moment, his grip tightening around my hand.
"To give you another reason to go with your brother." I could immediately feel my face lose color. "Is your brother home?" I asked quietly. His bruising grip got tighter. "Yeah. Yeah, he's home." I put my cigarette to my mouth, nerves seizing my chest quickly. His building was more run down than mine. His mom had no income. At least mine had a little from time to time. Everything Jackson and Nick had, including water and heat, was paid for by doing odd jobs, and in Nick's case, bad things. They struggled to survive, even more than I did. But Jackson never seemed to mind. He never complained.
Though neither did I. We learned long ago how little complaining did. It only made everyone more unhappy, and we didn't need help being unhappy. Jackson led me up to the familiar apartment and rattled around the keys that stayed in the door for anyone to use. I guess his mom didn't think they had enough in their worth locking up. I wouldn't say she was too wrong. She was asleep on the couch when we walked in. We were extra careful not to wake her as we went by. It never ended well when you woke the beast.
We walked down the hall of the one-bedroom apartment, to the door with a giant fist-sized hole in it. One of Jackson's step dads from a few years ago got drunk and punched through it for fun. Thankfully, that's one thing I've only scarcely had to deal with in my life. Mom's had boyfriends, and some of them were pretty shitty, but she was adamant that men, in general, were shit, so why should she waste her time on that when she could waste her time on drugs and alcohol. How logical. Jackson pushed the door open, and unsurprisingly, Nick was laying on the bed opposite the mattress Jackson sleeps on, snoring away still fully dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt.
"He got high last night. Nearly stepped on a needle when I got up in the morning."
I sighed, sitting down on Jackson's bed. "I've done that before. Hurts like a bitch." I muttered. He looked like hell, even with his eyes closed. Messy hair, baggy eyes, pale complexion. He looked just like my mom did when she got high. It brought tears to my eyes.
"This is what I mean by losing you Flick. This isn't my brother," Jackson whispered. "This isn't the person I grew up thinking of as a father figure. This isn't him," he sounded choked up as he sat down beside me, taking my hand back in his own. "I've lost my brother. And if you don't get out of here, I'll lose you too." I knew he was right.
This was my future. It was in my genes, I was predisposed to be this way. I was already on the way to becoming a victim of my genealogy, and I knew that, but to see someone who couldn't fight it, is scary. Because that's the reality of being an addict's kid. You spend so long promising you'll never be like your parents, then one thing snaps and it all comes crashing down. It starts with cigarettes just to take the edge off, then you smoke a blunt because you want to stop thinking so much, but when even that can't clear your mind, you'll do whatever you can just to stop feeling all that hurt. It's a vicious cycle of hurt and sadness that is so hard to break.
"You need to go with him, Flick," Jackson whispered. "Get the fuck out of here before you can't."
I barely noticed the tears running down my cheeks.
They were just another way for me to tell him I silently agreed.
A/N-Sorry to get all sad on you. It's just how my brain works lmao. I'm currently drinking a coffee and I'm scared it's going to spill on my computer. Multi tasking is not my strong suit. Anyway, I don't love this one, but it's a bit of a filler so have fun with it. And that's all I have to say for right now. Have a good day I love you and you are amazing.
Don't forget to vote comment and drink some water.