After my outburst I remained on the ground in a heap on the verge of tears, gasping for air and then choking on the sheer nothing in my lungs. I was in a panic, I couldn't think straight irrational thoughts filling, no flooding into my brain threatening to crush me, shatter my body into one million pieces. I shakily set the pizza down and back away still in a ball to the watt behind me. Zach looks scared and doesn't know what to do, I am trying to compose myself struggling to sloppily throw the pieces back together into what I once was. But they refuse to fit like two sides of the magnet with a same charge. They just repelled one another, getting close enough to fix but then jumping and breaking apart once again. I curl my legs up to my chest and bury my head into my knees forcing my body to calm down by taking deep breaths. I feel an arm go around my shoulders and hold me closer as if trying to comfort me. I raise my shoulders in uneasiness and then try to regain focus on my breathing. As soon as that is in control I can get out of this position.
Minutes mold into hours and it is dark out before I wake up, I feel my eyes snap open and I bolt up the covers falling into my lap. I realize I am in my bed, I pause and look around slowly the room is dark but my television is on. I slowly get up my legs feeling weak and wobbly like rubber poles. I slowly make my way into the living room to find Zach on the couch asleep, the television is just playing a random stream of commercials. He must have set me into the bed after I passed out, I didn't think I would, my panic attacks haven't been since I was in 7th grade. Turing off the television I pull the blanket which is near about falling off of him up around his shoulders. He lets out a little groan and shifts a little bit pulling the blanket up to his cheek as if he is a little kid. I sigh and head back to my bed still exhausted, I check the time and see it is 1:50 am. I flop on my back sinking into the bed, the covers smell of cannabis, vodka, perfume, and pine needles. I reach over into the slot from my bed and my wall grabbing a small plush bear, I clutch it to my chest letting the slightly matted fur rub against my cheek. Shutting my eyes, my thoughts drift into a time where things were closer to happy when the girls didn't bother me or so it seemed. My parents didn't hold perfection over my head, me and my sister weren't mother and daughter we were siblings.
"Alex! Hey were are you?" Evangeline was ten I was four, Desmond was eight. Perfect little Desmond, from the beginning he was liked more than me. I was the odd one always stirring up trouble, going up into the attic and playing with the older dolls and drawing. I was always an artist, drawing from birth Evangeline always made that joke. But I had a talent for it a raw talent to see things and draw by looking, or just putting what my thoughts sketched onto paper.
I was up in the attic like I always was, Evangeline had just gotten home from school report card with all A's. I heard my mom screaming from my perch in the attic, the graphite smudging my face as I drew a lily in the dim lighting from the lamp I had Evangeline set up for me. My drawings covered the walls, ranging from cartoons with simple shapes, to dragons and faeries flying into the sky. I set everything away and I slowly climbed down the attic with one of the ceramic dolls I found up there months before. I had braided its hair today so it was in pigtails falling onto its white and red dress. Her pale skin matched the white and her black hair went into a high contrast with the dress and skin. She had gold eyes that seemed alive almost. She was my only toy I had ever loved as much as drawing, I had sketched her over 100 times. I jump out of the secret stairs that lead up to the attic, they were located behind an old painting that would be sealed 5 years later along with all of the drawings. My little arms closed the paintings as I turn to see Desmond looking at me with a hateful glare, I cowered to the painting.
"Mom is looking for you Alex. How about you stop your pathetic drawing and pay more attention to what Mother wants. Or are you to mute to even hear!" He tugs at my hair and I whimper as Evangeline runs up and smacks his hand and picks me up to comfort me. I hold my doll to my chest as tears break through my eyes and I cry silently into her shirt.
"We found her Mother! And tell Desmond to stop picking on her!" Evangeline begins to carry me to Mother's study.
We walk through our old Victorian Style house, turning and walking into the study to see Mother. I look at her, she was supposed to protect me from Desmond and Father when they bullied me. But she never did, though at the time I didn't realize what was wrong with my family doing this to me. Evangeline sets me down and helps me wipe the tears away, then points to Mother and tells me to be strong. I nod, and rub my eyes and face my Mother.
"Alex! What is this wretched doll doing in your arms!" Her shrill voice piercing my ears, her green eyes glinting to a light gold. It was almost as if golden mermaids rested behind the green waters of the ocean, though the ocean was her eyes. Her blonde hair falling into her eyes in light curls, the curls fell onto her black jacket that melded into her skirt. I looked down at the doll and turned to hand it to Evangeline who took it and held it close to show is was important to me.
"Give it to me Evangeline." I look in terror at my mother, she can't take it!
"Mother it's her favorite..." Evangeline tries to help me in this situation only to be cut off.
"I don't care! I don't want my daughter to have such a dirty doll." My Mother walks up and snatches the doll by the arm away from Evangeline.
"Jacqueline! Give it back!" I scream in fright as my mom takes it. She turns around now knowing I am not mute. I hadn't talked for 3 years according to Evangeline to my Mother, Father, or Desmond only her. My first words were Evangeline and since then I never had the need to speak hence forth I never did.
"You can talk?" I am given the look I would get for years later, it was as if the mermaids in her eyes were attacking the sailors on a ship leading them down to the depths of the ocean.
"Give Jacqueline back! She isn't yours I found her she is mine! You are a thief if you take her! A big mean thief!" I scream running up to her to get Jacqueline back.
"After not talking for 3 years you call me a thief! Why my children never show that kind on uncanny insolence to me!" She pulls back Jacqueline and throws her to the ground causing her fragile body to shatter into 1000 different pieces. Tearing the dress and slicing the hair.
I am screaming, no shrieking at the top of my lungs. Desmond is laughing in the door way under his breath. Evangeline had to take me out of the room, and didn't go to school the next day and sat up in the attic with me to take down the pictures and store them into a trunk. We left in the attic, to hide from my Mother and Father and the fact they both now knew I could talk. And I couldn't just use there is no reason to talk as an excuse anymore I had to speak. That was one of the happier times of my life, I could draw and almost do what I pleased, until Mother destroyed my doll.
I remember the days when I was mute as if they were in a fog, but I remember them. I pull the stuffed bear away from my face. I remember the days in the attic with Evangeline, pranking Desmond and raiding the kitchen. I remember sliding down the banisters, climbing the large oak tree in the front yard, and then starting school. That's when the pressure hit, always having to have the best test scores, grades, and taking advanced classes. I hated it, at first it was okay then I realized it wasn't me and I was an average girl with books, above with art. I only wanted to invest in art and put all of my time into it, nothing else brought me more joy then drawing, painting, pottery, and charcoal. I always had a massive affinity for it and I let it go 3 years ago, when I just fell apart. I stopped trying to go behind my parents with it and just decided to put all my time into rebelling.
I let my feet swing off the side of the bed light fragments scattering across my room reflecting off my bong, bottles, mugs, mirror, and picture that hung in my room. It was a replica of Van Gough my favorite artist in the whole ending and beginning of the earths life, then Michelangelo, and Divinci. They were incredibly popular but there was something about their pasts that I loved, and how no matter what they stuck with art. I feel like I could feel them emotions they were feeling in every single piece that they did, every stroke and feather pen mark imprinted into my brain, making the emotions flow through me when I looked at the piece.
The piece hanging over my room was Sunflower, it was my favorite. I loved how he captured the simplistic yet complex beauty of sunflowers. I let my eyes follow the petals the yellow, brown and orange vibrating almost through the canvas. He did this in a careful frustration, contradictory I am aware but when you look at the picture that is what I hear what I see. It is as if I can feel the irritation of his brain, cursing at the flowers as they moved. but yet he loved to paint it. He truly loved the painting, though the insentient moving of the sun and the flowers must have frustrated him because they were done with him pressing harder in some places and making the lines thicker and harsher. But not to harsh to set off the whole painting just enough for me to notice.
Today is Wednesday, which means school again. How many more days do I have to do this routine, I would just give my life to sit here and analyse how the light fractures from the bongs, and bottles and hits my painting in just the perfect way. But I can't I look over and my alarm all of a sudden crushes the silence as if it was a spider. I crawl awkwardly on my knees to my phone and turn off the alarm, then I fall in a mass of blankets that wound around me annoyingly. I hear a grunt in the other room and I grasp a pillow and chuck it at the sleeping idiot on my couch. It rushes through the beaded door and rams into his face, sure it slowed down due to the beads but it hit him pretty good. I hear a guy like yelp and then a loud thud of body meeting hardwood. I let out a light laugh as I slowly drag myself off the bed, my legs like lead and my body feeling like one hundred million pounds were dragging it back to the bed to lay down. I look at Zach laying in a heap on the ground blankets wound around like like a burrito and the pillow still smashed against his face a little. A muffled voice shouts through the pillow, about how I am a monster or something like that... I sigh and help him out of the mess he was in. As I lift the pillow off his face, his matted black and red hair flying in every which direction, a disgruntled looks worn like a king wears a crown on his face. Arms crossed and him pouting as if he was three years old an undeniable resemblance to Desmond almost.
"Stop pouting you look like an idiot. Put on some clothes school starts in an hour." I mutter as I walk to the kitchenette to grab a monster from the fridge. I grab the back mass of my hair and crush in into a ball the release it as I pop open the can, a loud bang like noise then a soft sound of fizzing.
"Says the psycho who hit me with a pillow and almost killed me!" His voice is almost paired with sand paper on wood, raspy and harsh from being woken up.
Rolling my eyes I walk to my room and grab a shirt and jeans, walking to the bathroom to change. Don't want this ass seeing me half naked, I would rather get back together with Lucas. I pull off my shirt in the bathroom, the fabric clings to me with a static charge, making it irritating to tug off. Ribs poking out proudly, hip bones showing like rocks in a rapid. I shouldn't be this skinny, I eat way to much to weigh as much as I do I have never been over 100 pounds in my whole life. And now that I am almost five foot four, I look anorexic not joking I have a dip in my stomach where it concave, a to large thigh gap arms like match sticks and my collar bones show a large line on bone crossing my shoulders and chest. I have done everything to gain weight, never once gotten to a healthy weight, my current weight is 98 pounds or a 16.8 bmi. Critically underweight, I have taken steroids to gain weight before, I hate my body for it, if I was a normal weight or even just slightly underweight I would be fine with it. But I look deathly thin, as if I could break in a matter of seconds. I know I shouldn't complain but when people are asking you how much you eat almost daily and your teachers recommend eating disorder clinics to your parents, you get annoyed. I tug on my new shirt and jeans, then walk out of my bathroom to find a shirtless Zach standing in my living room.
"Put a damn shirt on!" I near about shout, not that his abs weren't amazing and all but really, he needs a shirt he was not my one night stand.
"Fine, fine, hey do you have a guys shirt I can borrow? I don't want to wear the same one twice. Jeans don't really matter they can be worn 3 times and no one will really notice." I think then move to a drawer where I keep all the shirts I took from past boyfriends, flings, and one night stands; well the male ones at least. Grabbing one that looks his size, I throw it at him, he unfolds the wad of fabric and looks at it nods and tugs it on without complaint.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye, then begin to check my weed supply, satisfied I put it back and make a mental not to buy more next week, flipping out my phone unlocking it in one swift movement I text my dealer.
Alex: Hey next week I need 5 grams, any strain as long as it is covered by $40.
Deal: Sounds good where, time, day?
Alex: Wednesday, 2:00, normal place.
Deal: Thank you for your business sweetie;)
Alex: Don't flirt, your 23.
Deal: I'll get you one day;)
Locking and placing my phone in my backpack, me and Zach head out for school. For yet another long day with this idiot, god why is he so persistent? I don't want to be his friend, only a partner in a school project. But maybe that is to much to ask.