My Rehab

THREE

I lay in bed for a good 20 minutes thinking about what's happened in the last 2 years. I won't lie, they've been the best years of my life, but I can't help feeling empty. I don't only feel it, but I know something is missing.

What's missing? I don't know. I have friends. A family- well... Something close to one. A boyfriend. A roof over my head. Food.

I tend to feel alone sometimes. Whenever we have our rowdy parties, and everyone is screwing around and having a good time, I feel like I'm alone in a crowded room. I feel like I've lost the flame that lit up every time I did anything considered fun. I just wish I was able to make myself happy again. To go back to the very first day that I truly felt alive.

Once I fully open my eyes, I realize that Tyler isn't in bed. He never wakes up early... I blindly place my hand on the cabinet next to the door, searching for a phone that's not there.

"Fuck." I mutter as I realize that Tyler hasn't given me my phone yet.

Before I make my way downstairs though, I decide to take a hot, relaxing, and much needed bubble bath. I just need to relax and officially make a decision of either going back to the Millers or finding a place where Tyler and I can live together without such a strong influence on us.

As the hot water rises 2 inches away from the tub's rim, I turn off the faucet and pour in a bit of lavender scented oil. While I wait for the bubbles to form, I walk over to the bathroom sink to wash my face and brush my teeth. Tyler always brushes after he's eaten, but I can't do that; my mouth must be cleaned right after I awaken.

Once I finish brushing my teeth, I stare at my pale, thin face in the mirror. Why have I done this to myself? Why have I consumed drugs that have done nothing, but ruin my health and mentality? As I continue to stare into the mirror, my vision blurs as tears flood my eyes.

Why did I choose this life?

"Why?" I whisper and move away from the mirror. I can't look at myself anymore.

Before getting into the tub, I look for my old CD player; I'm hoping Tyler didn't find it useless like everything else he throws away. I look in the closet that holds my belongings, but don't find what I'm looking for. After looking in the only places I would've left it, I result in having to look in Tyler's drawer filled with random, but important, stuff- to him anyway.

I open the drawer and unsurprisingly, it's a mess. Classic Tyler. I sigh in exasperation and rummage through Tyler's mess. I move things out of my way, such as: condoms, nail clippers, lighters, a dime of weed, cigarettes, batteries, lubricant, a porn magazine, and small sheets of paper. As I close the drawer, I feel a vibration which causes me to stop midway. It was most likely just the movement of my hand pushing the drawer. I go to close it once more, but I feel it again. It's not my hand.

I reopen the drawer, and stand still. The vibration starts up again. I know for a fact that Tyler doesn't own a vibrator, so there's only one thing it could possibly be. Lifting the sheets of paper, I see what the source of the vibration is. My phone.

Laying in the bubble filled tub, I flip through my phone and listen to my old playlists. I find multiple pictures of me and Tyler; they're dated from the first couple days we met, to three months ago. He always claims that his hair is messed up when we take pictures, but I know that he simply doesn't like it; in all the pictures I have, you can't fully see his beautifully structured face.

As Not My Type At All by Jacob Whitesides begins to play, I log into my Facebook account to rummage through my old pictures. I flick through photos of me and most people in the house at the beach, parties, vacations, and simply just hanging out. Most of my pictures are from the past two years, but I feel like I'm looking for a specific picture. Something to convince me, but of what? I don't know.