Two teenagers drowning in their own emotions.
She was the 'I'm fine' type of girl.
He was the 'no you not, tell me what happened' type of boy.
Could I make it more obvious?
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December twenty fourth, its eleven forty pm. Today is Christmas Eve. I'm sitting down on my cold bedroom floor. As usual I have a bottle of bourbon in my hand, a cigarette in my other. I squeeze my eye shut trying to forget everything and everyone about today.
My mind doesn't allow me to stop thinking, as I get flashbacks of every Christmas Eve. I take a drag of my cigarette, not even noticing a tear slip out. Groaning loudly, I mentally scold myself for crying.
I can't help it though. After one slips out, they all start to pour out, now sobbing fully. Taking a large gulp of the bourbon. Small liquid slipping out of my mouth. Even though, my room is dark. I see colors all round my vision, random lines forming out of nowhere.
I squeeze my eyes again but this time I see Beatrice pulling the trigger. "Stop," I whisper. I'm in my room, with her on top of me, covering my face with a pillow, suffocating me until I pass out. "No," I shake my head pleadingly. I'm in my bathroom, treating my deep cuts, from when she would throw glass at me. "I don't wanna be here anymore." I sob. I'm standing in front of the mirror, she's behind me, telling me how to act. "I-" I'm in the kitchen, she's shoving my face near the heated stove. "Go away." I bite my lip. I'm in the sitting room, she's yelling at me, telling me it's all my fault. "I'm sorry." I drop the bourbon, it spills all over the floor. I'm in a restaurant bathroom, she slaps me for saying the wrong things. "Mom." She stabs me. "Please!"I beg.
I snap my eyes open, gasping for air like I haven't breathed in a long time. I try to stand up, but quickly fall to the ground when I lose balance. Turning my head slightly, eyeing the shattered bottle, the cigarette now in ashes.
Does it ever stop? When does it stop? Why can't it stop already? What did I do? Does it ever get better? Will I ever stop? I miss my brother. Why did he have to go? I miss my cousin? Where is he? I miss my aunt. Why did she have to leave? I miss my uncle. Why did he have to leave with my aunt?
My door opens, revealing dad walking in. He furrows his eyebrows when he steps in. He frowns instantly when he notices the shattered glass and cigarette on the floor. He gapes silently when he sees me spread out on the floor.
He slowly and carefully grabs my forearm, I stumble slightly trying to keep my balance. I'm basically leaning on dad. He quietly directs me towards my large bed.
"D-dad." I slurred. Practically falling on top of my bed when I'm near.
"Here." He whispers, tucking me into bed like I'm eight again telling me a bed time story. He looks me in the eye, his eyes teary now.
"Dad." I groan. "Where's Romero?" I look around. "Mom." I groan, trying to look for her. "Dad." I shake his arm, trying to get his attention. "Where's mom?" I slightly sit up. "We have to open presents." I sit up fully now. "It's Christmas!"
"Go to sleep Heaven, we will talk later." He croaked his eyes now swollen.
"Hey dad!" I exclaim. "Can I tell you a secret?" I ask with a hushed tone. "Your my favorite, but don't tell mom okay? I love mom too! Actually she's my favorite. Wait no!" I shake my head. "You are! No never mind, you both are my favorite. You and mom are so nice, dad. Where's Romero? He's my favorite brother. Even though he's my only brother, but still he should feel grateful that he holds that much power." I ramble.
"I love you too Hevs." He sits on my bed brushing my hair out of my face.
"I'm thirsty dad." I comment. "Can you give me my bourbon?" I plead.
"Go to sleep." He mutters.
"But- but what about Christmas?" I ask. "I like Christmas because Mom and you give me so much awesome presents. Can you tell Romero to stop with the corny Christmas presents? I give him such cool presents and he wants to give me weird ones." I exclaim. "He should be grateful I give him such good presents, I'm the best sister in the world." I state. "Right dad?"
"Your the best." He confirms.
"See Romero! Dad said I'm the best sister in the world." I shout. I wait for a witty response but I'm only met with silence. "Why isn't he answering? He always has something to say." I roll my eyes. Dad looks down sadly. "Uh dad?" He stays silent. "Okay dad your being weird." I comment. "I'm going to sleep." I announce. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get sleep. I slowly fall asleep to my dad singing softly to a song he sung to me when I was young.
I groan loudly, opening my eyes, quickly shutting it after, when I'm met with a obnoxious bright light. I open my eyes again looking around the room.
"Happy Christmas!" Dad shouts. He stands in front of a wall full of presents.
"Happy Christmas dad." I say back softly. Looking at the floor, secretly wishing my bourbon was still there and not cleaned up.
All morning was spent exchanging gifts and giving him fake smiles. I feel so terrible for that, he does all of this and I can't even genuinely smile at him.
Christmas time was a happy time for our family. We all would spend every minute together. Laughing at Romero's attempt to be funny. Even though we all knew I was the funny one in the family. Okay now that just sounded cocky.
I hate being inside this house. I feel suffocated, like the walls are closing in on me. It never felt like home.
