Broken Angel

Chapter 11

(Michael's POV)

All I heard during the night was Luke's obnoxious laugh.

"HAHAHA OH MY GOD."

"HAHAHA ARE YOU SERIOUS? HAHAHA."

It's like he didn't even know how to whisper. I have no idea what he was watching or what could be so hilarious to make him choke on his chips.

Yeah, that happened.

It was in the middle of him shouting something like "I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS HAHAHA."

Cough cough cough.

I swear he coughed for 10 minutes and then he was fucking laughing again.

Now it's 6 in the morning and I can hear him snoring from the living room. As I walk into the living room, he jumps up. Guess he isn't much of a heavy sleeper.

"Good morning. How was your night?" I ask, although I know the answer.

"It was fun. Wish you would have stayed up with me." He said and I couldn't help but wonder where that bad boy went. "Not that I really care, though." And all I did was nod. Luke looked like he'd just been hit by a train. You could see the dried up drool on his face, his hair stood up more than usual, and there were bags under his eyes. They weren't too prominent, but they were there, and I'm guessing this wasn't his first time getting only 2 hours of sleep. "So what do you have to eat?" He asked and then I realized I didn't even go grocery shopping. "By the look on your face, I'm guessing you don't have any." I felt my face get red. Dammit, how did I not buy any food? He looked at me, almost as if he was amused. "That's okay. I have some money.. do you want to go out to eat in, like, an hour? I have to shower and stuff."

"Make that 2 hours then, because I have to shower, too." I said and he nodded, smiling at me before walking to his room and then into the bathroom. I'm not exactly sure why he went into his room because all of his clothes are out in the living room, still in the boxes.
Maybe I was wrong, though, and he had some clothes in there. Whatever. I shouldn't worry about everything so much.
~~~
It's been an hour and Luke still isn't out of the bathroom. I already have my clothes ready for the shower. How is this motherfucker still not out? I need to calm down. I knock on the door.

"Yeah?" I hear his voice, he sounds peppy.

"It's been an hour, can I get in now?" I say, trying not to let annoyance sound out my words.

"Hold on I'll be out in a minute." He says, and I wish I had something sarcastic and witty to say, but alas I am not that kind of guy. To my surprise, he actually comes out within a minute. He looked great, hot even. Black looked good on him.

"You look nice. I'm going to get in now." I said, not that I really needed to inform him. He smiled at me.

"Don't be too long, okay?" He says and I laugh. Irony.

Every time I look in this mirror I want to punch myself. What the fuck is up with my face? Why does it always look so droopy and tired? If depression was a person, it would be me. I even look like I want to kill myself. Maybe it's the heroine. Whatever, I need to get ready. I strip myself of my clothes and try not to look at my body. It's gross. I have totally mutilated myself. There are scars everywhere. Sometimes I regret it, but they're a great reminder. Reminding me that I am a piece of shit. That it doesn't matter what I do to myself because I'm just a walking piece of trash. I deserve all of the pain and shame I feel. But at the same time, I'm wondering, "Why me? Why do I have to feel this way? What did I do wrong?" Shut up, Michael. You have to get ready. Right. I start the shower and get in as soon as the water gets hot. I kind of love the burn. As I grab the shampoo I think, "How the fuck did I remember shampoo but not fucking food." It actually amazes me how much of an idiot I am. I lather, rinse, and repeat for so long I forget what I'm even doing. Luke knocks on the door.

"Are you okay in there, Mikey?" He asks. I can barely hear him. But why wouldn't I be okay? And why does he call me Mikey?

"I'm okay, just lost track of time I guess." I say, even though I wasn't even paying attention to time in the first place. I didn't get a response back so I figured he left. All I had left to do was wash my body. God I hated it. I hated it so much. Running my hands over the scars. They felt so foreign. I wanted to rip my skin off. But I was done washing and I got out quickly, wrapping a towel around my waist and refusing to look in the mirror. Too many scars on my body. I just wanted to get dressed and hide them. And that's what I did, putting on my biggest sweater. It was striped black and red, then I put on black skinny jeans. Casual but not too casual. Just right. And I brush my teeth and brush my hair, not with the same brush of course. Haha. Then I'm out, looking for my shoes, just to see Luke asleep on the couch. I try to be as quiet as I can, and instead of looking for my shoes, I plop down next to him and fall asleep myself. Maybe we can get lunch or dinner when we wake up.