Macto

18; The Crash and Collection

The remainder of my weekend was spent ignoring Ella and Josh's phone calls, drinking insane amounts of tea, and filling out endless college applications.

One question on the form stumped me like no other had.

If you could see yourself from the perspective of someone else in your life, how would you view yourself?

Just voicing the query out loud brought back storming memories of the first night I had ever met Benz. Visions of my fist pounding relentlessly on his door and his smooth, taunting tone filled my head. It was odd to think about how things had changed relatively quickly between the two of us in a matter of weeks.

Since I had made a comment to him about the extent of my 'father's' drunken tendencies, Benz made it a habit to knock on my door at least once a day. At first, I was slightly concerned, considering his presence was completely random and unexpected. After several visits, I learned what his intentions were. It was obvious by the way his eyes scanned over my face carefully and then to the apartment behind me.

"You're okay?" Was all he would ask each time.

"I think you should be asking yourself," I played back, and he would roll his sea colored eyes annoyingly.

My mind snapped me back into the present. Christmas was two weeks away, so I decided to give myself a break from grueling college work to hang the lights in my room.

The apartment contained absolutely no decoration. Alec's level of alcohol consumption increased by a steady 600% over the holidays, considering the fucker was given a week off. A week to lounge around and replace every drop of blood in his body with whiskey. Decorating with him would be the equivalent of giving a two year old a lighter and some gasoline.

My hands worked skillfully to hang the last crystal bulb over my curtains before switching off the lights to admire the glow. A small smile crept onto my face with the familiar warmth associated with the gentle shine of the dainty, beautiful bulbs.

They were the only things that brought out even the tiniest glimpse of holiday spirit in my life. But unfortunately, the Christmas lights weren't even enough to block out the yells of my overly intoxicated father and the damages he caused.

My jean pocket vibrated suddenly and I shot out of my daze. Ella's name appeared brightly on the slightly cracked screen and without thinking, I answered.

"Brita?" The concern and panic in her voice was something I was very unfamiliar with.

"Yes, Ella?" I replied, with slight annoyance in my tone.

"Are you okay? You haven't called me back? Are you mad at me?" She fired questions left and right. Unless Max had told her about the Josh incident, she had no reason to sound as worried as she did.

"I'm fine." The phrase I had rehearsed and perfected over the course of six years.

"Brita.. You just left the party so quickly and then there was some tension and uh.. Josh was flipping out a bit, really threatening to kill Benz.." She rushed and tumbled through her words, another out of the ordinary for Ella.

I only loudly exhaled in response, fighting the urge to end the call.

"What happened Brita... I mean what you made you leave, besides the whole antisocial shit..." She spoke more carefully, as if my answers were the key to survival.

"Nothing Ella, everything is ok. I don't know why you're freaking out. I'll see you tomorrow in AP," and right before another wave of high pitched, lightening-speed questions could be aimed at me, I hung up the phone.