Cut Up Angels, chapter 3
BANG.
"Get up."
Suddenly, the bright sunshine fills my empty room as my mom snaps the blinds on my windows up. I groan and roll over, face down, deciding to sleep for as long as possible. The short-lived peace lasts only ten minutes before my mom arrives back in the room, shaking me awake.
I force my eyes open, having gotten so little sleep. It takes me a minute to remember why I was up so late last night, and when I do, I feel my heart sink to my stomach.
I roll out of bed and dig through my closet, throwing on whatever I find. Ripped jeans. High tops. Plain black shirt. I run a comb through my dirty blonde hair and swipe on some eyeliner.
I open my door and make my way down the hallway, passing my brother's room. It's empty, dark, untouched since the day of the accident. My mom still cleans in there- obsessivley- but manages to not missplace anyone of his things. I direct my eyes to the gross 70's carpet lining the hallway.
In the kitchen I grab a cup of bitterly lukewarm coffee, which does little in terms of waking me up, and pick up my backpack. Right on cue, Tre knocks on the front door. We all walk to school together most days.
Tre's sitting on my front porch when I step outside, examining his spikey green hair in a piece of glass serving as a mirror. He grins when he sees me and greets me with a "What's up?"
I silently thank God that he doesn't remember everything I told him last night.
We head over to your place to get you and Mike (Mike rented out the Armstrong's garage). As I raise my hand to knock on the front door, Mike's tall, gangly figure comes stumbling through.
"Hey," Mike says, straightening his creased Misfits T-shirt. "Billie's not going to school today. He's sick."
"What?" I asked stupidly. I glance nervously towards your bedroom window. It's still open from when I crawled through it last night.
Mike just shrugs. "Well, that's what he SAID," He smiles. We knew you often stayed home from school when he just felt like it.
I avert my eyes and stare at the rubber sole of my Converse. What do I do? Tell the guys? Would you want me to do that--what if you got mad?
"Laura? You're distracted..what's up?" Tre said. I swear, sometimes it felt like he could read my mind.
"Umm...well..." In that moment I forget about all the 'what if?'s and spill the whole story to Mike and Tre. From when I saw the scars in the bathroom, to telling Tre when he was drunk (to which Tre laughs at now), to seeing you last night, and what he told me.
By the time I'm done covering every detail we're at school, and I feel drained already. I slump against a bikerack, wondering what to do. Mike's just muttering, "Jesus Christ." Tre sits next to me and drapes an arm across my shoulder. He starts talking about how it will be okay, but I'm suddenly distracted, because--all of a sudden--Tre's touch sends shivers down my body.
And now I'm just fucking confused.
The bell shrills and pulls me out of my trance, Tre and Mike saying how we'll stop by and see how you are after school and how it'll be okay. And I'm still feeling Tre's arm on my back, and my mind is spinning: Will you really be Okay?
"Get up."
Suddenly, the bright sunshine fills my empty room as my mom snaps the blinds on my windows up. I groan and roll over, face down, deciding to sleep for as long as possible. The short-lived peace lasts only ten minutes before my mom arrives back in the room, shaking me awake.
I force my eyes open, having gotten so little sleep. It takes me a minute to remember why I was up so late last night, and when I do, I feel my heart sink to my stomach.
I roll out of bed and dig through my closet, throwing on whatever I find. Ripped jeans. High tops. Plain black shirt. I run a comb through my dirty blonde hair and swipe on some eyeliner.
I open my door and make my way down the hallway, passing my brother's room. It's empty, dark, untouched since the day of the accident. My mom still cleans in there- obsessivley- but manages to not missplace anyone of his things. I direct my eyes to the gross 70's carpet lining the hallway.
In the kitchen I grab a cup of bitterly lukewarm coffee, which does little in terms of waking me up, and pick up my backpack. Right on cue, Tre knocks on the front door. We all walk to school together most days.
Tre's sitting on my front porch when I step outside, examining his spikey green hair in a piece of glass serving as a mirror. He grins when he sees me and greets me with a "What's up?"
I silently thank God that he doesn't remember everything I told him last night.
We head over to your place to get you and Mike (Mike rented out the Armstrong's garage). As I raise my hand to knock on the front door, Mike's tall, gangly figure comes stumbling through.
"Hey," Mike says, straightening his creased Misfits T-shirt. "Billie's not going to school today. He's sick."
"What?" I asked stupidly. I glance nervously towards your bedroom window. It's still open from when I crawled through it last night.
Mike just shrugs. "Well, that's what he SAID," He smiles. We knew you often stayed home from school when he just felt like it.
I avert my eyes and stare at the rubber sole of my Converse. What do I do? Tell the guys? Would you want me to do that--what if you got mad?
"Laura? You're distracted..what's up?" Tre said. I swear, sometimes it felt like he could read my mind.
"Umm...well..." In that moment I forget about all the 'what if?'s and spill the whole story to Mike and Tre. From when I saw the scars in the bathroom, to telling Tre when he was drunk (to which Tre laughs at now), to seeing you last night, and what he told me.
By the time I'm done covering every detail we're at school, and I feel drained already. I slump against a bikerack, wondering what to do. Mike's just muttering, "Jesus Christ." Tre sits next to me and drapes an arm across my shoulder. He starts talking about how it will be okay, but I'm suddenly distracted, because--all of a sudden--Tre's touch sends shivers down my body.
And now I'm just fucking confused.
The bell shrills and pulls me out of my trance, Tre and Mike saying how we'll stop by and see how you are after school and how it'll be okay. And I'm still feeling Tre's arm on my back, and my mind is spinning: Will you really be Okay?
