I didn't take my meds today.
Two days ago Caitlin Adams asked if I was bipolar because I was into her on Monday but by Friday I had figured out that she was too demanding.
But those words, that question... it seeped into my soul and tarnished my tho...
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MY WRIST ached from the writing I had done on my art history paper. I rotated it back and forth to ease the muscles. Maybe it was the heavy bangles I wore for the fundraiser last night.
I closed my eyes and massaged the knot out the back of my neck. When I opened them again there was a single flower laying over my textbook.
Okay, it was a weed. A dandelion but I picked it up and held it under my nose, taking a sniff of the scent. Henry stood next to me with an innocent smile on his face.
"It's so beautiful, thank you." The small gesture swelled my heart. It was the first time he has ever acknowledged my existence besides the screaming match I caused when I cut up his steak.
Jamie came in swirling his hips around to whatever distant hum was playing in his ears. He raided the fridge and wiggled his bum whenever he bent down.
"Scram booger." He said to Henry and he jittered off to go play back outside. Jamie spread butter on bread with a blunt knife, mouthing to music and bobbing his head but then disappeared back upstairs. I read over my paper for a second time making sure everything was spelt correctly.
Henry reappeared, like a stealthy little assassin he moved around the house in silence. He held his hand out for me to take and when I did he guided me outside. I thought maybe he wanted me to play with him but instead he was alerting me to loud crashes and bangs coming from next door, each one chilling me to my core.
"Henry, go back inside okay?" He nodded and detached our hands before running back inside.
The sound of shattering glass and broken furniture was all that I could focus on. Each one violent and unforgiving. It was like a direct cry for help, one only I seemed to hear. I couldn't do nothing, even if right now Arlo hated me.
His front yard was a mess, plastered in piles of his bedroom furniture and the heap only seemed to grow by the second.
I eyed up the contents of his closet laying on the gravel and what appeared to be his old desk. I glanced up at his open window just as a book flew out and landed on the mountain of his ruined possessions. I dodged the flying furniture and opened his front door, making my way through his house.
"Arlo?" I called out timidly.
His bedroom was smashed to pieces and rubbish lay everywhere. He ignored me and carried on throwing things out of his window, clearing his room piece by piece.
"Arlo what's happening? Why are you doing this?" He was everywhere at once, rushing around his room frantically trying to clear it of his belongings.
"They're listening Fearne." He didn't stop to speak or think, just kept picking books off his book shelf and launching them out of the second floor window.
