It's the night before I'm scheduled to leave. My stuff are in a suitcase in the corner of my room. Well, at least only the "important" stuff—some of my clothes and arts stuff. Mom says I don't need to bring unnecessary clutter, and she can buy whatever I might need.
I stare into that corner. The past few months have been, well, strange. Stressful, eventful, and traumatizing, but really, just strange. The upbeat music in my headphones is beginning to bug me so I turn it off.
I'm not going to live here anymore. All of this is going to stay here, and I might never really be here as a resident ever again.
A tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly. Stop it. You caused this.You don't deserve to cry.
I turn to the full length mirror. Everything staring back seems to pulsate and warp in the darkness. Dread fills my insides as my reflection stares back, the shadows on her face moving ominously, and her empty eyes staring right into mine.
I run to the light switch and flick it on. My heart calms down a few beats per minute. It's okay. It's okay. There's nothing there, I assure myself, holding my middle and patting my chest. You were just hallucinating. I exhale deeply.
A knock on my bedroom door makes me jump. "Fu—!" I gasp. "What the fuck?!"
"Sorry," says Larry's voice from the other side. "Can I come in? If you're not about going to bed."
I debate it a bit in my mind, before deciding "Yeah whatever. Come in if you like."
He opens the door rather slowly, like he's testing the atmosphere. He doesn't look at me right away, but looks around my room. The bed, the desk, the chairs, my closet, the floor. Then he opens his mouth and shuts it again. He obviously doesn't know what to say, or just doesn't know what to say.
I bow my head. It's a total mess in here. My books are laid out on the desk and surrounding floor peeking under random pieces of clothing and underwear. My bedsheets are at God-Knows-Where and replaced by bits of paper, pens, and laundry to be put away. Clothes pour out of the closet onto the dirty floor almost completely burying a couple crumbled up cookies I had dropped from eating there earlier.
And yes, the place smelled.
Very, very badly.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Anya, it's okay. Please don't cry. I understand. I'm not judging you."
"Leave me alone," I protest around the slimy wet of my mouth which I wipe on my sleeve. "You don't have to say anything."
"Anya please," he begs, taking my hand and pulling me closer to him. "Come here."
I succumb to him, placing my head against his chest. It feels so foreign. I've never done this before. I feel his arms around me as he pats my back. "It's okay," he says. "You can cry all you need. It's perfectly fine."
Fast-forward a bit and I'm seated on my bed sipping water as he pats my back gently and rhythmically.
Oh, Nikki.
I physically feel my heart ache, like it just got a big squeeze, forcing all my tears to exit my body. I lean forward into Larry, trying hard to explain through all my incomprehensible crying noises. He holds my and I cry more.
It's all gone. Everything.
My dad probably doesn't even want to look at me anymore. Not after all the misery I've caused him.
What is wrong with me?
Why do I always have to be so stupid.
Mom is right. I'm just wrong in every way. And now everyone has abandoned me. My existence was unwanted from the very beginning, anyway. I don't know why they just didn't carry on with the abortion.
It's all his fault.
I wish I could just disappear.