*possible trigger warning*
~
I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache.
"Ah, fuck," I moan as I stretch my arms.
Luis is laying next to me, scrolling through his phone without a care in the world.
"Morning, sunshine."
I slap his arm aggressively.
"Shut up, asshole."
"Well, aren't you a joy."
I check the time, keeping in mind that I'm expected at the courthouse around one.
"Oh my god, it's noon?!" I practically leap out of the bed, immediately regretting my decision of getting up so quickly due to the thumping sensation in my head.
"Actually, it's 11:48," Xavier says from across the room.
I glare at him for a moment before picking up my bag. I can't be bothered to respond to his smartass comment as I collect my blunt and my shoes.
"You're leaving already?" Luis pouts while looking up at me from the bed.
"I have places to be."
"Alright... bye buddy!" He waves at me with a stupid smile plastered across his face.
I shake my head, unamused by his happy attitude.
"Yeah, I'm leaving. Goodbye."
I walk out of Xavier's house and just around the block to Marta's, where I can see Allen's car in the driveway.
"This should be interesting," I mutter under my breath as I walk up the driveway.
I open the door, and astonishingly, there's no yelling. When I walk into the kitchen, I actually see the two of them talking over a cup of coffee like a normal, civilized married couple. And although it looks like a rather tense conversation, it's still better than yelling.
"You still giving me a ride to the courthouse?" I ask Marta awkwardly from the doorframe.
She pauses for a moment.
"You can't just walk? It's a little warmer today."
I purse my lips and try my best to hold in my irritation.
"Yeah. Whatever."
"Wait, Ramona—I'll take you," Allen says, although he's probably only doing it to get out of whatever awkward conversation he's having with Marta.
I nod and turn around to go to my room. I desperately need a shower as I reek of alcohol and weed. I go to my room and throw my things on my bed while hurrying to prepare myself a warm, relaxing shower.
Any image of relaxation is gone once I turn on the shower faucet, though, as a wave of intense nausea hits me like a brick. I bend down and puke into the toilet, regretting my decision of drinking so heavily last night.
Before I step into the hot shower, I grab my blade from the cabinet as a sudden to cut myself creeps up on me.
It's strange how suddenly a craving to cut can hit. There could be nothing wrong in my life and I'd still find a way to hate myself. I'm honestly not even that upset over anything, yet I still find myself wanting to slit my wrists.
I don't even have a good reason for doing it; I just feel like I need to. But then again, there really never is a good reason for cutting yourself in the first place.
Maybe it's the memory of Joseph's hands all over me, or maybe it's the hole in my heart from Mason being gone. I don't know anymore, honestly. All I know is that this will make me feel as good as the alcohol did.
And my god, I was right.
I stay in the shower for as long as I can, not wanting to get out and face today. Having to look at my brother, knowing I just spent the last night drinking and smoking—almost choosing drugs over him like our mother did.
Sometimes I wonder if he'd still love me if he knew about the things I do to take my pain away. If he could understand the things I feel inside; the amount of pain that I bear every day but never tell anyone about.
I just feel so guilty about everything. From the things that happened to Mason and I as little children to the way things are now—I feel like I caused it all.
I slowly exit the shower and get dressed, and I put on a brown leather jacket over my white T-shirt to hide what I've just done.
I don't even realize until I'm about to leave that I forgot my headphones at Xavier's, which is really fucking annoying. Music is one of the things that I truly need to get through the day, and now I have no way of listening to it.
"Ready to go?" Allen asks as I step back into the kitchen.
I nod slowly and follow him out to the car without a word.
We ride to the courthouse in silence, neither of us saying much of anything to the other. Allen and I have never really had an in-depth conversation throughout my three months of living with them. He's always so passive-aggressive, and I try not to get in his way.
The silence as he drives is awkward and unbearable, but he doesn't do anything to break it. So I, being stupid and reckless as always, decide to say what's on my mind and clear up the obvious elephant in the room.
Or, actually, I guess it's the elephant in the car.
"So, umm, why'd you cheat on Marta?" I ask as casually as one would ask for the time of day.
He turns and gawks at me, likely shocked at the bluntness of the question.
"Umm... I don't think that's really any of your concern."
I shrug and observe my chewed nails as if they're the most interesting thing I've ever seen.
"I'd say it's definitely my concern. I'm the one that has to listen to the fighting."
"Trust me, you won't for long."
I raise an eyebrow and look up at him.
"Are you trying to tell me something?"
He begins to drive over the bridge that connects South Portland to downtown Portland.
"Don't worry about it," he says, clenching his jaw.
"Really? Don't worry about it? I do need to worry about it, Allen. I get that you and Marta don't want me around, but that doesn't change the fact that I live with you."
My body sits up straighter, my irritation getting the best of me as I continue to pull Allen's head out of his ass.
"I need to know what's going on—I need to know what to expect when I walk in the fucking house."
He brakes abruptly on the middle of the bridge, and before I know it, a pinch of pain radiates through my cheek.
"Watch your language!" He jerks towards me, ready to condemn me for even daring to raise my voice, and I cower slightly while rubbing my red cheek.
"I may not be a very good parent, but that doesn't mean you have the right to yell at me and disrespect me!"
I pause for a moment, trying to process the amount of stupidity that just came out of his disgusting mouth.
"So you're saying..." I begin slowly while keeping my voice quiet but assertive. "You're saying that I should respect you—even though you're a shitty parent? I don't even want to call you my parent. You don't deserve that title—and you don't deserve my respect."
He starts the car again and suddenly pulls over at the side of the bridge, and his unpredictable driving nearly causes an accident.
"Get the fuck out of my car."
I scoff. "Are you serious?"
"I said get out."
Tears spring to my eyes but I push them back as best as I can, throwing open the door of his car. The cold air outside hits me hard, and it reminds me that things aren't much better outside of Allen's car.
Before slamming the door, I make sure to look him square in the eyes.
"Gladly, asshole."
The second the door slams he speeds away, leaving me on the bridge to walk the rest of the way.
As badly as that fight should have hurt me, I don't allow myself to feel the pain. I keep walking and I watch my sneakers as I put one foot in front of the other.
When I enter the parking lot of the courthouse, I feel another wave of nausea hit me. I almost puke right there on the cement, but I'm thankfully able to hold it in until I get to the bathroom inside.
I spend a few minutes leaning over the toilet, definitely feeling the effects of my hangover.
After I clean myself up, I head towards the reception desk.
"What room is the visitation for Ramona and Mason Carter in?" I ask as politely as I can.
She presses a few buttons on her keyboard.
"That would be... room 317A."
"Thank you."
I head over to the elevator where I see Jean waiting, carrying her briefcase this time.
"Afternoon, Ramona," she says with a smile. I manage to half-smile back as we step into the elevator.
I feel sick, and my head hurts something awful.
As much as I love my brother, I don't want to see him right now. I'm just not in the right state of mind.
We're standing in the elevator, surrounded by the awkward silence. Jean keeps giving me odd glances, which only makes the silence even weirder. It takes me a moment to realize what she's looking at.
She's looking at my 'hickeys'.
The bruises Joseph left on my neck are perfectly visible and look exactly like hickeys, so now Jean probably thinks I'm some kind of slut.
"Shit," I mumble, reaching up to undo my braid. If I leave my hair down around my neck, maybe I'll be able to cover them just enough.
"Problem solved."
The elevator doors open as I finish meticulously placing my hair around my neck.
Jean can think what she wants—but Mason? I don't want him seeing the bruises. I don't want to have to explain what a hickey is. Nor do I want Owen to see them. Who knows what he'd think of me.
Not that I care, because I don't.
"Ramona," Jean says with a sigh as we step out of the elevator. She gives me the look of disapproval but continues walking next to me.
"Just—nevermind. Your brother is waiting for you."
She leads me to room 317A, where Owen and Mason are, in fact, waiting for me.
Inside of the room, there are bookshelves lining the back walls and two black couches in the center of the room. Also, numerous children's toys litter the ground, which my brother has already begun to play with.
"Ray!" He jumps up from his seat when he sees me standing in the doorway. "I missed you so much!"
I pull him into a tight hug despite the pain around my waist. I never want to let go. I can't believe I even thought about missing this visitation.
When he hugs me, I realize just how much I've missed him.
"Come play with me!"
He pulls away from me too soon and runs back over to his toys while I sit on the couch and watch him play. He tells me all about his week, mostly things that happened at school.
I listen as best as I can, but my splitting headache makes it almost impossible to focus on everything he's saying.
"Owen says I can move schools, too! Right, Owen?"
That catches my attention, and I snap up to see Mason smiling at Owen, who's sitting on the other couch watching us talk.
"Yeah, you can."
"Move schools?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Why would you do that?"
Owen sits up and sighs,which turns my attention towards him.
"Well, South Bayside is really far from my neighborhood. Not to mention, it's not really the best elementary school."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He hesitates for a moment. "It's just—Deerfield Elementary is much closer to my house. And it's a better school."
South Bayside is near Marta and Allen's house, so I guess I could see why it's considered one of the 'bad' schools in Portland. It's the same thing with my high school, South Portland.
Anything with the title "South" is labeled as 'bad' or 'ghetto' in Portland. It makes sense though, the south side is always the sketchy side.
"Deerfield?" I question. "You live in the Highlands neighborhood?"
Deerfield, on the other hand, is one of the best elementary schools in Portland, right in the heart of the Highlands. It's full of rich, entitled kids who have all grown up with money handed to them on a silver platter.
I guess it makes sense. Owen is a doctor, after all; I don't doubt that he has an abundance of money.
He nods. "I do. Didn't you look at the paper I gave you?"
I think back to when he had handed me the paper with his address and phone number. I had never actually looked at the paper.
"Oh, right. I forgot about that."
I play with Mason for the rest of the hour, soaking up every moment I get with him. I fight my headache and the waves of nausea, forcing myself to tough it out for my brother.
With a giant smile plastered across my face, I watch Mason play with a toy truck and make adorable sound effects.
"Ramona, Mason," Jean says as she walks into the room. "It's time to say goodbye."
My head turns towards her and I feel my heart drop into my chest.
"What? We only get an hour?"
Jean nods. "I'm sorry, Ramona. Say goodbye, it's time to go."
Mason juts out his bottom lip and pulls me into a hug.
"Aww, please don't leave! I've missed you so much, Ray!"
I hold him close to me and kiss his forehead.
"I know, but I'll see you again in two weeks."
"Two weeks?!" he whines. "That's way too long! Don't go, please!"
Owen stands up and gains the attention of everyone in the room.
"Actually, Ramona, before you go—there's something I'd like to talk to you about."
I pry myself away from Mason, who protests as much as he can.
"Ray, wait!"
I give him another kiss on his forehead.
"I'll be back in a minute. Just wait here."
Mason backs down, allowing me to free myself from his tight grasp.
I stand up and walk over to Owen.
"What? What's going on?"
"Can we—" He hesitates for a moment, glancing at Mason. "Can we talk out in the hall?"
I look over at Jean suspiciously, but she just nods.
"I'll keep an eye on Mason."
"Yeah. Uh—Okay."
I follow him out of the room slowly and we stand outside the door, away from Mason's earshot.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, concern filling my voice. I'm still not too fond of Owen, but I'm worried about my brother more than anything.
"Yes, everything's fine. I just want to ask you about something."
I nod, gesturing for him to continue.
He takes a deep breath. "Mason... he asks for you. A lot."
I shrug. "I'm not surprised. He's gotten pretty attached to me over the years."
"That's what I'm worried about. Every time he feels anxious or scared he wants you. I can't do anything for him. He only asks for you."
I fold my arms across my chest as a wave of satisfaction takes me over.
"And what am I supposed to do about that?"
He runs his fingers through his dark brown hair.
"I—I guess what I'm trying to ask you is, what do you do for Mason when he's in a moment of anxiety? How do you help him?"
I look away for a moment and scoff.
"I don't do anything for him. There's no secret formula for making his anxiety go away. We have a bond—a bond that took years to form. He feels safe around me, and I'm sorry, but you can't replicate that."
He pauses and exhales sharply.
"I see."
Part of me feels bad for Owen. I can see he's trying so incredibly hard to make everything work.
That moment of pity doesn't last for long, though. I'm still mad at him for intervening with my life and for getting involved with my brother.
"He had a night terror, too."
I look up back up at Owen, who is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
"How bad was it?"
"Well, what's considered bad?"
"Was he screaming?"
He nods. "Yeah, he was."
"Then it was probably pretty bad. What did you do?"
He thinks for a moment. "I just held him until he woke up."
Of course, he would do exactly what he's supposed to. Why can't he just do something wrong? Why can't he give me a good, solid reason to hate him?
"That's good," I say. "...Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?"
He shakes his head, his body still leaning against the doorframe.
"Well, actually, I wanted to ask you if you'd maybe want to change the visitation schedule."
He really doesn't stop messing with my life, does he? He can't just leave things alone. He always has to try and fix things.
I look at him in disbelief and I feel anger start to tick inside of me like a bomb waiting to blow.
"My god—you really don't stop meddling in other people's lives, do you? Can't you just leave things alone and stop fucking everything up."
I step closer to him while my skin begins to heat up.
"Ramona."
"No! I only get to see him every other week and—"
"Ramona! Seriously, hear me out." He keeps his voice quiet and gentle, trying to calm me down in the echoing courtroom hallway.
It works. I back down for a moment and let him say whatever he has to say.
"I'm not taking away your guys' time together, I would never do that. I was thinking about changing it to change it to every Saturday. I want you two to see each other more. Ramona, I promise you that I will never keep you from seeing Mason."
Promises.
I couldn't keep my promise to Mason, so why the fuck should I trust Owen to keep his?
I look down and let myself breathe for a moment, feeling stupid for getting so worked up that quickly.
I scratch the back of my neck awkwardly.
"Okay, umm... that actually sounds... okay."
He cautiously watches me and seems to take note of my quick change in mood.
"Yeah. I think you and Mason will both benefit from seeing each other more. It might do him some good to see you more often."
I stare at him for a moment without knowing what to say.
"Y—Yeah." Is all I can manage to choke out.
He smiles reassuringly.
"Good, and I hope next week we can actually go outside and do something in the city. We don't have to sit in the room the entire time." He gestures to the room that we had just come from. "And you guys can have more than an hour together. You can have all day if you want. Okay, Ramona?"
His control over his emotions makes me feel like I'm crazy. He makes staying calm look easy and like it's no big deal when it's something extremely hard for me to do.
Although I do like that I can be assertive when I need to be—it's saved my ass countless times.
I nod.
"Great. We'll see you this weekend."
He walks back into the room to get Mason, but I don't go back. I leave, and I feel terrible for not saying goodbye to Mason, but another wave of nausea is coming and I'm going to throw up at any moment.
I run to the bathroom as quickly as I can to make sure I don't puke all over the hallway.
As I finish puking my guts out, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. It's a text from Nadia.
Hey bitch
I smile and type back, What's up?
Luis is coming over Tuesday after practice. You should come with.
I have to work Tuesday night, but I could go for a little while, I guess.
Ight bet, I type back, flushing the toilet.
Also Luis told me about your brother. That sucks.
I pause for a moment, not knowing how to respond. I decide just to put my phone back in my pocket and leave the bathroom as soon as I can.
Walking out of the courthouse, I take my phone out again and type: Yeah. I'll talk to you about that later.
I hadn't even realized that I haven't been hanging out with Nadia lately. I've just been so consumed in my own mind, continuously focusing on my own problems, that I've been forgetting to give my wonderful friends the attention they deserve.
I don't see Mason when I walk out of the courthouse, and by the time I'm exiting the parking lot, I realize that they've probably already left. I feel terrible because I told Mason I'd be back after talking to Owen in the hall, yet I just left.
But it was either soothe my brother's nerves or puke all over the courthouse floor. I had to make a choice in the moment, and I did what I had to do.
It takes me more than half an hour to walk home, and when I finally get to Marta's house, my hands and toes are frozen. I accept the warmth of the house the moment I walk in the door, and thankfully, Allen is nowhere in sight.
Marta's sitting in the kitchen filling out some paperwork when I walk in.
"What's that?" I ask before I grab a bottle of water from the bare fridge.
"Just work stuff," she mutters.
I don't respond, instead, I stand in the corner of the kitchen for a moment and observe her as if she were an animal in captivity.
She's so young, but her face is lined with wrinkles and her eyes have permanent dark circles etched around them. Her dark brown hair is thin and tangled, thrown into a small bun at the nape of her neck. She looks so stressed, so tired.
It makes me sad to think about. She's in her twenties—what are supposed to be the best years of her life—and she's stuck in a failing marriage, barely making ends meet.
I see myself in her. I see my future looking like hers, and it scares me. It makes me wonder—what has she done to screw up her life this badly?
Why does she need to foster children just to get extra money to be able to pay the bills on time?
What happened to her?
"Good talk," I say awkwardly before slowly stalking out of the room.
I have a little bit of time to kill before going into work. My shift starts in two hours, and so I'm planning to catch the bus instead of walking.
The bar I work at is in the heart of the downtown area. Important buildings like the courthouse, post office, and the hospital are all nearby.
The downtown streets can look beautiful on some nights when the snow is falling slowly and there aren't a ton of people walking around. The lights from the shops and businesses light up the area even more than the old street lamps do, and it's truly an amazing sight.
Breathing in the fresh, salty air from the oceanside—just standing at the docks and watching the waves crash into the rocks. When the ocean isn't frozen over, that is.
I change into my work clothes and check the bus schedule. I have an hour until the next bus is coming near my neighborhood—enough time to make a journal entry.
Taking a seat at my desk, I pull out my journal from the top drawer. The last time I made an entry was the night Joseph almost raped me.
I had gotten pretty graphic in that entry, but I needed to get it on record. I don't want to forget a single thing about it, as painful as it is to remember.
I flip open to the next empty page and begin to write.
January 28th, 2017 (Saturday)
It's been a while since I've smoked or drank, but last night I did. Mason is gone now, I've got no one to take care of. I have no responsibilities—there's nothing stopping me from getting drunk just for the hell of it.
However, I forgot that I had visitation this morning so I had to hurry just to make it to the courthouse on time. I was mad at myself for forgetting about it. I mean, for someone who misses her brother so badly, I was surprised that I allowed myself to forget about it. I still hate myself for even thinking about skipping it.
Also, I cut myself again this morning. I can't give a reason for why I did it, I just did. I guess it doesn't matter how much alcohol I drink or how many blunts I smoke, I'm still gonna feel like shit. I could have a perfect family, I could have everything I've ever wanted, and it still wouldn't make me happy.
Anyways, I hate to admit it, but I was almost bored watching my brother play earlier. I felt tired and I almost didn't even want to be there. I love my brother, but I just don't feel like I belong in his life anymore. All I'm going to do is hurt him like I do everyone else.
Now Owen—I'm not sure how to feel about him. I want to hate him, I really do, but he's such a sweet person. I hate that I can't hate him, and I almost feel bad when I give him an attitude. I want to hate him because he interfered with my life. He worked his way into my life and took my little boy from me.
But at the same time, it doesn't feel right to hate him, and I really don't like that I'm being so selfish about this. Mason deserves this wonderful home, and I have no right to want him back.
And then, you've got Joseph over here practically eye-raping me everytime I walk into the room. It makes me so uncomfortable, but there's nothing I can do. I don't want to confront him. I don't want to get that close to him again or speak to him again.
I've thought about looking for another job, but it seems like everywhere I look, no one is hiring. Not to mention, I don't want to leave Victoria to fend for herself. Maybe I can get out of there if I can convince her to quit with me.
I want to get away from everyone, honestly. But maybe the problem isn't other people. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the problem. If I'm being honest, I've thought about killing myself before. I've thought about it a lot. The only reason I never went through with it is because of Mason, but he's clearly not an obstacle anymore. I guess we'll just have to see what the future holds, won't we?
Either way, I don't know what to think anymore, honestly. I guess I just feel really stuck, like there's nothing I can do. I just wish something could go right for once in my life. But I guess it's whatever, I'm used to disappointment anyways.
Time to go see Joseph again. I've got a long shift tonight.
Yours Truly,
Ramona
~
A/N
wOaHhHhH, things are getting kinda wIlD, am I right??
Jk. this is only the beginning, y'all.
Next update: Oct. 12th (next Friday)
peace out - N.M.