EMERY.
Why do I have to be so fucking awkward everywhere I go? I slowly creep down their dark hallway towards a door with tons of artwork covering the wooden door and under the door is a light. I know Addy is in there. Uncle Landon told me to go on and go upstairs to her room, but to knock first. Instead of arguing with him, because I'm too fucking lazy to, I followed his instructions and went upstairs. I can hear a soft rhythm of something in the room, and I'm certain she's listening to music.
I roll my eyes and huff. She's probably sitting on her bed painting on a huge canvas, a picture of her mom and dad for Christmas or some shit. They seem like a family to do overly nice things for each other.
I get to the door and reluctantly knock. I hear a small mumbled 'hold on,' and the music stops.
I hear shuffling on the carpet and then the door opens. She wipes her cheeks before letting me inside her room. No shock is evident on her face, and no smile is fighting to break free. What the fuck is wrong here?
I almost turn around and walk the other way, because I feel like I just interrupted her alone time, but then realize that she welcomed me inside by moving out of my way.
I look around her light pink room. Her white curtains are pulled shut, and her bed is messy. Not that I'm complaining. Mess wise, this is basically my room.
On her floor she has a couple shirts and jeans, and a bra close to her open closet. In her closet she has her dresser, and the drawers are open with clothes overflowing from the top. "I'm sorry. It's not usually this messy. Let me fix this."
She stumbles to pick up her dirty clothes and throws them into the hamper across the room. She gathers up some papers. They look like some sort of medical records or some shit and crumple them up and throw them into her desk drawer. I try my hardest not to look at her confusingly. She wouldn't know why I'm confused. The last time I saw her, she was happy and didn't have a care in the world. Now...
"Sorry I didn't come down. I was listening to music and drawing." She brings me out of my thoughts, thankfully.
"It's fine. What were you drawing?" I ask, restraining myself from saying 'I didn't want to come up here but your dad kind of forced me.' I oddly feel the need to be nice to this girl. Almost comfort her in a way.
She shrugs, "Oh, just some ideas for my friend, Harry's comic. He wrote some superhero comic book, and I'm doing the art." Her eyes light up slightly, and I'm relieved that she at least still has some sort of passion.
"That's awesome. Can I see?" I ask, stepping closer and she nods, walking over and sitting on her bed.
She reaches down, pulling out a box and placing the lid on her nightstand. "He calls him Mr. Man." She giggles, "don't ask me where he got the idea."
I smile softly as I glance at the superhero. She sketched a normal man in a normal suit and beside him is a man with a cool super suit on. I'm honestly impressed with her creativity. She made up an entire fictional character's appearance. That's tough, even for me when I'm trying to decide what the fictional characters look like in the novels I read. She actually processes it and puts it on a page. "These are really fucking cool, Addy."
"I have more sketches in my treehouse?" She lifts her eyebrows expectantly, and I can't say no to her. I think I've found my weakness. My weakness is broken people— Well, everyone is broken in my eyes. But people so broken that you can see it through their actions, their words, and most importantly, their eyes. And with her broken eyes boring into me questionably, I can't say no.
Once we get outside, I follow close behind her towards a big tree with small foot length planks nailed up towards the bushy leaves, where a small wooden square is hidden away. Honestly, treehouses sound cool. Yeah, they are super shitty if you don't take care of them, and they are most likely for the younger audience, but I could sit up there and read all day.
"You go up first," she says, before leaving me for a big pile of bushes. I squint my eyes, before shrugging and beginning my way up the tree.
I quickly look towards Addy, and she's bent over the bushes gagging out a bunch of liquid. "Oh my god, Addy. What the fuck? Are you okay?"
"Yeah! I've been a little sick lately. I'm fine." She wipes her mouth with her shirt and I look away to avoid myself cringing. Throw up is so fucking disgusting. I'm going to gag if a think about it any longer.
I don't reply, and continue up towards the treehouse. God, she better not throw up in here... it already smells dirty. I take back that a treehouse would be great. I'd be too lazy to clean it, and it'd end up smelling like shit.
She pops her head through the trapdoor moments later, a small smile on her face and her cheeks red. "Sorry about that. I've been sick lately." She repeats, and I shrug.
"This place is cool." I say, changing the subject as I finally glance around the small, hot cube. It has windows on each wall, the entrance being a trapdoor in the floor. She has art covering every wall. You can barely see the wood behind it. She has a few unfinished sketches on a small table and some colored pencils scattered around the ground.
"Yeah, I come up here when I don't want to deal with my parents." She giggles, and I can't help but to relate big time. Except my place is my room with my nose in a book. She tilts her head, her straight dyed black to light brown hair falling off of her shoulder as she combs her fingers through it.
"Did you dye your hair?" I ask, although I know the answer. Her hair used to be darker. It definitely is lighter now. At least on the tips
She nods, "I did it myself." She then squints her eyes as she looks at me, scanning over my hair and I suddenly feel insecure of my barely brushed blonde locks. "I have a little bit leftover if you..." she trails off and my eyes go wide.
"No, I uh... I like my hair the way it is, thank you." I shake my head and look at my lap, rolling my eyes subtly that she would assume I'd want to kill my hair with dye.
She walks over and picks up a piece of my hair and I restrain myself from slapping her away. "Could I at least straighten it? I like doing hair." I shrug, looking up at her small smile as she examines my hair. "Oh! Or I could give you a cut to your shoulders and give you waves."
I scrunch my nose in disgust as I bat her hands away. "What the fuck? I'm not letting you cut my hair off, get the fuck away from my hair."
She giggles, and I'm slightly confused at her reaction. I would think she would lose the shine in her eyes if I was rough with her, but instead all I see is more passion lighting up her brown eyes. "It's not like I'm inexperienced. And even if I was, my mom could level the cuts out later. She cuts her own hair." Aunt Nora has her hair cut just above her shoulders, and it looks professional enough. I mean, I was thinking about getting a haircut, but that wasn't supposed to be until next year. You know, fresh new look, New Year— whatever the fuck that saying is. I let her take ahold of my hair and she parts it into two. She holds it just below my head. "Or I could French braid your hair into pigtails down here. It could fall into waves. Would you like that?"
I think for a moment, building up my confidence. "You know what?" I begin, "cut it all off. I want it to be to my shoulders."
Addy squeals and claps her hands together as she jumps in place. I smile at her huge grin on her face, and feel somewhat successful. I then remember that half of my hair will be gone soon, and I feel my stomach clench into a knot at the realization. No turning back now. Well, I could just fucking leave and refuse, but something tells me I really need a change, and maybe this is the perfect thing.
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"So... you have a boyfriend?" I ask as Addy brushes through my hair. She loses her smile and frowns.
"I did, but not anymore." She answers, and I feel like I've finally found my way into the reason she frowns so much.
"What happened?" I ask sympathetically. I hope she doesn't think I sound fake sympathetic... I know it sounds like it's fake but it really isn't. I've been through a breakup, which is the main reason I'm never dating again. And her breakup story can't be as bad as mine. Maybe I should open up a little?
She shrugs, "it's a long story." Here's my time to open up to her.
"Um..." I begin, not knowing where to start and how much to say. "I had a boyfriend too. Only one. He did something bad and... now he's gone." That most certainly isn't the whole story, but I'm not telling her the rest.
"Oh... I'm sorry." She sighs, and drops her hands to her sides. She hesitantly sits beside me on her bed. "Well..." she says quietly, "I um... I'm pregnant." Before I could give any sign of my shock she continues, "and my boyfriend, the only person I thought would stay, left. So..."
She looks up at me, and all I can do is stare back at her. She's pregnant? Does her parents know? Why the hell did she have to tell me? I'm not reliable on keeping secrets. Damn it. "Do your parents know?"
She nods her head, "they do. They want me to get an abortion but I'm really struggling with that decision. I already feel a connection with this baby, but they say I'm too young to try and keep it. Especially without someone there to help."
"You could adopt it out?" I suggest, and she shrugs.
"I've thought about it, but I don't even want to do that. I'm 2 months along, and I'm supposed to get the abortion next month."
I sigh, looking down at my fingers. I'm asking way to many fucking questions, but I can't stop. I want to know. "Why don't you just keep the baby? It's your decision not your parents."
Addy takes a deep breath, staring at a certain item on her desk a few feet away. "Honestly, it is their decision. I can't take care of a baby alone, so they would be doing most of the work."
I scoff, "that's bullshit. It's your baby. If you want to keep it, keep it!" When I see that my advice isn't helping in the slightest, I decide to tell her what I would do. "I would run away. Not that you should, but if I wanted to keep my baby and my parents were in the way of my possible future I wouldn't let them push me around. Fuck them, I'd run away."
She furrows her eyebrows, before shaking her head and standing up. "Let me start cutting. If I don't start now it won't be done in time for dinner."
I smile softly at her as she flicks her bathroom light on and I follow her into the small space. "They are going to fucking freak out when they see me. I swear my mom is going to kill me."
She giggles slightly, and I can practically feel her relief radiating from her. Why is she so relieved? Because she told someone about her secret? Damn, that would be nice. To have one of your burdens lifted off of your chest, and passed to whoever you're spewing your secrets to. Fuck, I don't know how much longer I can go on with Chris. I need to tell someone. But who?
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𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎
Hello guys! I'm having a major writers block moment. I have been having this for a couple days. I've decided to take a week off from posting the story and just focus on writing the story so I don't get too overwhelmed!!
I hope you guys are having a good day, and I'll post next on thanksgiving. :D
Chapter twenty: Nov. 21, 2020