Nicotine (Eremin)

Chapter 7

February

Armin's POV

        Every day i spent without talking to Eren was like slowly sinking to the bottom of the ocean; like I was sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of isolation, and it was my own grandfather pulling me down. He's taken away my phone, laptop, and he shut off the internet so there was no possible way I could contact Eren to explain what happened.

        I was sprawled out on my bed, the sheets tossed onto the floor. My grades had been dropping, and I've been forgetting to eat lately. I'm not allowed out of the house except for school. I must have been staring at the ceiling for close to an hour before a knock at my door dragged me out of my thoughts.

        "Dinner." my grandpa's monotone voice crept through the doorway. I pulled myself off the bed and into the kitchen where Grandad slid a bowl of soup and a piece of bread across the table, followed by a spoon.  He sat across the table from me with the same soup and a salad. I picked up the spoon and stirred it through the thick soup for a minute before Grandad spoke.

        "You've hit a wall." he said, spearing his salad with a fork.

        "What do you mean?" I rested my chin in my hand. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly, and he set down his fork.

        "When's the last time you've talked to your friends?" each word was like a pin, piercing through my skin.

        "I don't have any." I said back. I tore off a piece of the bread and dipped it in the soup. His eyebrows arched.

        "What about Jean? You two were pretty close." he picked his fork back up again and took another bite of his salad.

        "Not anymore." I told him. The soup tasted bitter, and over salted.

        "Isn't there anyone you're still friends with?" he asked me. I dropped my spoon to the floor and stood up.

        "I had a friend. His name was Eren, but I don't have him anymore. I'm going to my room." he looked angrier than ever.

        "Sit down, boy." he got after me and walked over. I stared into his eyes, and tried my best to not show any sign of fear.

        "No." I narrowed my eyes at my grandpa.

        "What did you just say to me?"

        "You heard me. I said n-" the palm of Grandad's hand pressed against my forehead and his fingers grasped at my hair, pulling it up slightly.

        "You will respect me as your grandfather. If I tell you to sit down, than you sit down." his words were worse than pins this time. On the last 'down' he shoved me to the side my my hair, and I fell to my knees.

        I felt something hot drip down my face and onto the floor in front of me. I glanced over my shoulder, and saw a blanket draped over the couch and...

        ...and the door.

        I couldn't stay here. I knew what I had to do. I stayed kneeling on the floor until Grandad sat back down again, and I could hear my heartbeat echo in my ears.

        "Sit at the table, Armin. Now." in my head I counted.

        1,

        2,

        3,

        And I ran for it. I grabbed the blanket in a hurry, and bolted out the door as fast as I could. Behind me I heard Grandad yelling after me, but he was old; he would never catch up. I didn't even know where I would go, But I had to go somewhere.

        I ran until my lungs burned, and I couldn't feel my legs.

        And I kept running.