I wake up to the sound of banging on my door, my senses immediately getting dragged away from slumber to check what the fuss was about. I jolt up sideways from my bed, the tangles of my hair blocking my vision. "Adrianne! Wake up it's eight!" Uncle Ron's voice boomed behind the wooden door and I wipe off the hair gathering on my face to see. Nonetheless, I couldn't see anything the entirety of the room remained in darkness, the only source of light pouring in through the drawn curtains of my window, adding to my disorientation.
"Adrianne!" He calls again. "Are you going to school?!"
"Yes, I'm up!" I reply, slumping my head back into the cold fabric of my pillow case the strands of my hair tangled in all sorts of knots. I lazily creep my hand through the sheets, seeking for the cold metal of my phone, seemingly unbothered over Ron's statement that it was eight. When I finally find it I press open the home screen, the time displaying eight twelve. I've only been asleep for two hours and I felt like shit. Utter and complete shit. It was like I just got home from running a mile. For the first time in two years that I have been friends with. Georgie, I didn't want to go to school and face them after what I've done yesterday.
My sore throat have accumulated over night, and my jaw pained, accompanied by the swelling of the wounds under my cast. Even so, I couldn't skip school today. Not right now that we needed to find Sarah. Not right now that I had a million things to explain Georgie and Jumper. Other than that; we've come to the agreement that we'll go around town to distribute flyers of Sarah today, and I've already missed a lot of things from their discussion yesterday before I ran off to the woods, I couldn't miss more. I can't just always run away from my problems unfortunately, and I already assured Jumper that I'll talk to Georgina last night and still didn't do it. It's only a matter of time before they personally visit me in this home, and since the incidents of Ericka's foul gossiping mouth, I've been trying to distance my friends from the judgement of Ron and Marianne.
I kicked off the piled blankets from my feet, cautiously pulling myself up from my bed despite not wanting to. As I get up, a twang of pain like something had snapped under my cast morphs my face into a wince, my eyes threatening to leak. I hold onto my arm gritting my teeth, caressing it to bring relief but it didn't do anything. I stand up against my will and spread the blinds from my window, thick grey clouds greeting my eyes outside as white crystals flooded the grass of our backyard. It was still hailing, the cold sending goosebumps across my skin. I walk over to the door and switched the lights on, illuminating the entirety of the room. As I turn back around, my heart falls out of my chest, a gasp audibly ripping out of my throat.
He sat there frozen on the makeshift bed, his brown hair a tangled mess as it hung on either side of his pale face, his green eyes alert like he had been awake long before I had, and something about that sent chills down my spine. I remind myself repeatedly of last night that I wasn't alone anymore and there was someone else occupying my room. I take a deep breath, mentally calming the impending panic attack solidifying in my chest as I stood there, my heart pounding through my ears.
"H-how long have you been awake?" I stammer, my voice cracking.
"An hour. I'm sorry for not waking you up, I didn't know you needed to get up." he says, looking down in embarrassment, but I was too busy reasoning inside my head on how I should feel about him being awake an hour while I slept.
I didn't even get proper rest, I couldn't drift off from the constant fear that something bad would happen. Or moreover, I was waiting for something bad to happen. Thankfully nothing did, but I still couldn't sleep. I listened all night to the hail. For some reason I was terrified of the idea of sleep from the previous nightmares I have been getting which was ironic. I shouldn't even be scared of that now, I had a whole lot different things to be afraid of. My head couldn't help but picture the sight of him looking at me with wide eyes through the dark while I was unconscious and I had no idea. It was a little far-fetched, but I've already seen demons with my own eyes. At this point, anything is possible.
"It's alright." I take a deep breath, crossing my arm below my chest, hiding the wince on my face as I walk back to the side of my bed, gathering the sheets to arrange it back.
"I'll do that." he claims, standing up and taking the blankets from my hand."You should get ready, you'll be late for school."
I stood there, my eyebrows furrowed confusion, watching him as he carefully laid out the sheets back and fluffed my pillows onto their place, his movements cautious and measured. He goes around the makeshift bed and rolls it back to its previous state, stuffing it under the bed. Something inside me swelled as I observed. The last time someone made my bed for me was before Hannah and Connor found out they needed to go to Ireland. It was hailing too that night, and Hannah offered to sleep next to me if I was scared. I refused. I wouldn't have if I have known, but I guess people were right when they say regrets come when it's too late.
"You don't need to tell me what to do." I muttered, walking off into the bathroom and locking myself in. I didn't know why I was so angry. I've been angry since last night. But it's not like I could blame myself.
The hit of ice on the ceiling was muffled inside the bathroom. I ignore the bees whispering in my ears, hastily stripping off my sweatpants and throwing them into the hamper next to the sink, my attention caught by the faint red marks on the sides of the porcelain from last night. Thankfully that wound didn't hurt anymore, but it was still there. Warm and swelling. I look over to the shower, chills crawling up my spine from the thought of having to finish quick or I freeze myself to death. It was a terrible idea to take a bath, even if I had just woken up and it was a necessity. Other than the fact I was obviously sick from being soaked in the rain last night, the tiles were icy against my feet. What more would the water feel like? Nonetheless, I digress. I get rid of the other clothes on my body, carefully peeling my shirt off my casted arm. The sting earlier had lingered but i certainly am not going to change my cast again.
I step into the shower, turning on the hot water before twisting the switch. Water comes dripping down from the shower head as I stood there, my face tilted up and waiting for the inevitable. Even the hot water didn't feel warm enough as it trickled down my body, goosebumps forming across my skin, washing off any warmth left from behind snuggled under the covers. I wanted to cry. It's been a day and I still didn't know what I would do in my situation. I move my cast away from the water, running my fingers through my hair with the other. Now that my senses were coming back to life, I realized I needed to do more than just this. He wasn't going anywhere for a couple of days if he's been honest with me, and I needed to find a way to hide him from Uncle Ron. Eventually I'll find a better solution, but for now that was all I have. I had other more important things to think about, and the thought of him was beginning to get in my nerves. And I've already forgotten his name. I was sure I asked him last night before his snores filled my room, but right now it wasn't coming back.
As I finish taking a bath, I glance over to the green towel hanging neatly from the curtain rack, the fabric stained with faint tinges of black. Of course. I just literally made him use it last night without further consideration because of his stink. I wasn't a compulsive perfectionist, but perhaps I should've thought twice before shoving it to him. I sigh, turning off the shower and snatching the towel. If I was alone, I would've considered dumping it and going out there bare naked, but I wasn't and I didn't have a choice. Maybe that was a bit prude of me to think about. After all, I've been caught naked multiple times before in the gym showers by guys when Ericka literally told them to go there and it wouldn't matter now.
I wrap the towel loosely around myself, just loose enough to not rub the entire thing on my skin. It smelled like him last night. Dead mice and piss. No surprises right there. I walk out of the bathroom, heading straight for my closet as I gripped on the towel for dear life, securing the ends against my chest. He was sat on my bed again and I could feel his eyes trained on my back as I dug through the piles of clothes in the cabinets. I hated it, but I was going to have to get used to this. And I'm lucky enough that I had a separate room in my space, otherwise I would've gone insane the moment I balanced the consequences. That room used to be the master's bedroom before Aunt and Uncle made me stay there. They said I needed it more than they did. I stay silent as I pull out a pair of skinny jeans and a long sleeved shirt, holding them against my chest.
"Would you mind if I come with you?" He speaks as I turn on my heel in instinct.
"What?"
"Would you mind if I come with you." He repeats, looking up at me as he picked on the loose threads of Dalton's sweater.
"Where?" My eyebrows furrowed, brushing off the heat rising to my face each second I lasted in front of him, my feet dripping water on the floor.
"To your school."
"Why?" I question. What could he possibly want there? Also, I couldn't bare the idea of risking Uncle Ron or Aunt Marianne seeing him if he goes out. And I'm pretty sure by the length that he had been living off Hillside Cross Station. He had once stumbled upon Hillside Highschool. Almost everyone who first comes here does. After all, it's the mighty High School built near a cursed and condemned building. Tourists wanted to know what kind of people live and study there, and when they do, my cousins work their magic.
"Please, I would just want to come-"
"Uncle Ron will see you." I mutter, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence.
"I'll hide."
"That's not enough." I shook my head, "He's going to drop me off, and I'm not assuming you can walk five blocks under the hail alone. Why do you even want to go there in the first place? Haven't you gone there before?"
"I haven't."
I refrain, a question rising up my head before I could stop it. His thick beard made me incapable of estimating just how old he was, but he didn't look older than twenty or around those numbers. But I could be mistaken as well. Dalton was nineteen, three years a senior but he looked nearly twenty five because of his smoking habits. I wasn't one to dig through a stranger's personal life, but he was already sleeping in the same room as me and such occurrences would be unavoidable. And who was I to deny a person's the right to visit my school? It's not like things could go worse, I'm practically already in hell.
"Fine, whatever." I rolled my eyes, taking my gaze off him as I walk back to the bathroom, clicking the lock.
I stand in front of the sink and take off the towel, leaving my body bare through the mirror. My hair was a damp mess on either side of my shoulders, dark circles visible under my eyes. I quickly put on my clothes, pulling up my jeans to my waist and zipping it up with ease. Georgie had mentioned multiple times how thin I was and how envious she was over it, my collar bone literally poking under my skin. Nonetheless, I never thought it would be a big deal. Being thin didn't make a difference when my cousins bullied me to death, and it certainly didn't help me physically. So I always tell her that whenever she's trying to act all critical about it, but like always she doesn't listen. It even came to the point where she starved herself for two weeks and ate nothing but three apples a day.
It was a tough time for all of us before Jumper went out of the therapy center. I thought shit would end there even, but I got my hopes too high.
I pull on the hem of my shirt and fix it in place, my eyes gravitating back to the steam accumulating on the mirror. Behind the blurriness stood out a glinting material on my chest. I walk over and wipe the steam with my knuckle, the long pendant of a necklace clearing to my sight. It was the necklace with the halloween angel costume that has been rotting on the corner of my closet for two weeks. I haven't realized I still had it on after how many days. But then again, I haven't really been taking time to look at myself in the mirror nowadays. I grip on the pendant and snap the chain off my neck, reminding myself of the conversation we had inside the store when Georgie was begging me to wear the entire thing. It was pretty pointless since I got to be an idiot instead. But I guess that didn't matter now.
I drop the necklace into the hamper, walking out of the bathroom afterwards. I sit down the other side of my bed and grab my socks, putting them on before slipping on my boots. I stood up again and wedged my hand into my cabinet, combing out the tangles of my hair that still dripped on the back of my shirt but I didn't budge. The stranger only watched me with his mouth tightly shut as I scampered all over the place, sitting still on one side of the mattress. I've realized I couldn't let him wear other things upon going out because I couldn't make him wear my own shit. After getting ready I finally grab my backpack that has luckily dried off overnight after being soaked under the rain, slinging it on and taking a deep breath.
How was I supposed to do this?
I glance over the window again, the streaky shutters blurring the view outside. How did he even fit in there? It was decently sized, but I just couldn't picture him out forcing himself to fit through such a narrow opening. Certainly if he had done it the other day, he should be able to do it again, right? Also, I have just realized. I would have to walk under the hail if I don't ride with Uncle Ron which is fucking great.
"Okay, so-" I begin, looking back to him and immediately meeting his eyes as he had been staring at me the whole time I was stood there. "You go out the window and I'll meet you outside on the other side of the street. I'll tell Uncle Ron I'll walk. Is that clear?"
He nods, rubbing his hands on his pajamas before standing up.
"Make sure to close the shutters after you come out and don't make too much noise." I instructed just in case another homeless guy dares to enter my room and ask for shelter. I look at him one last time, my hand twisting the cold door knob. He seemed fine. A bit too quiet than I'm used to people talking to me, and certainly creepy, but he seemed to be getting everything I'm saying. He nods again before I completely step out the door.
I race down the stairs, heading for the kitchen where Aunt Marianne and Uncle Ron sat in front of the table, coffee mugs in their hands, their eyes trained over their cellphones. Ron made a great living as an agent for construction companies and Marianne was an online college tutor. It wouldn't be obvious at first with how calm and collected they looked and I wouldn't have known if I hadn't accidentally stumbled upon some documents shoved under their bedside table.
Breakfast was over and Ericka nor Ella were in sight. As soon as they realize my presence by the kitchen entrance Uncle Ron stands up, snatching his keys from the counter. "Are you ready to go?" He asks, his voice muffled as he sipped from his cup. "It's hell outside we should get moving. It wasn't like that earlier when I drove the girls."
"I'm walking." I tell him.
"What? Why?" Aunt Marianne questions.
"I told Georgie I'll meet her on the next street." I reply to clarify, wishing he wouldn't insist.
"Well- Are you sure?" He hesitates, worry washing over his tone as he puts a hand on his temple. "I can still drive you there if you want? I can't let you walk under the hail, Adrianne, your dad will kill me."
A lump rises to my throat at the mention of my father, a twang of guilt stinging my chest. I walk over to him. "I'll be fine, Uncle Ron. I'll be careful I promise." I assure, taking his hand in mine.
"Alright." He sighs, shaking his head. "But do bring the umbrella Marianne gave you, okay?"
"I will." I give him a small smile and a hug, his warmth making me recall the scarce amounts of times I've hugged Connor. He wasn't necessarily an emotional kind of guy, and I've learned that when I hit puberty and his stiffness grew to the point where he ignored me. Or maybe that was just my immaturity getting the best of me. Perhaps he never ignored me and was actually trying to make a connection. Nevertheless, it was too late to ponder over it. I'm just glad even though he's gone, Uncle Ron is there to make me experience what I should've.
i walked over to the other side of the table, kissing aunt Mary goodbye. I head out of the kitchen and into the front door, grabbing the umbrella from the coat hangers attached to the wall. I open the door, the chill outside washing over my face as I step out. I quickly open the umbrella to protect myself from the falling ice, thunder and lightning bolts cracking from the thick grey clouds. There were white crystals all over our front yard, and I had wondered if I'll survive the walk ahead. As much as I loved the idea of riding with uncle Ron, I couldn't. I strided through the sidewalk, the chill crawling under my sleeves. I should've worn a jacket, but the only jacket I had was in my hamper, stinking. I hold onto the umbrella handle for dear life, ice tapping against the material.
The stranger stood a few meters away from the house his figure easily seen from his height as he shaded himself under the trees aligned on the sidewalk. He still wore the clothes I gave him last night. It's not like I had other clothes for him. Perhaps I'd ask Dalton for more to suffice, but before that, I needed to tell them first.