Tranquil Falls

Cleaning Out

Tae didn't speak to me the next day or the day after that. Two weeks had gone by and I didn't speak to anyone outside of my family, teachers, Collins, and Rouche. Tae turned in what we had completed on the project without asking my thoughts on it, but that was just as well. I didn't think that I wanted to talk to her anyway.

When Taylor had been using me, it'd been easier. I still had basketball and other friends that I could use as a distraction. Even after his death, my family and Brody and the team were still there. My family was there. I was pushed into counseling. I had people that I could feel somewhat normal with, but I'd pushed them all away because it was what I was good at doing.

My parents and I had dinner for my eighteenth birthday at home. They'd both worked a double the day before so they could be home, but they may as well have been at work. My mom ordered food and a cake instead of making it like she always had. My dad wouldn't stop talking about how poorly the basketball team was doing like he could guilt me into joining back up.

I was thankful to escape to my room after it was all over with. That night, I started going through everything I owned. Some of the shit had been in there since I was a kid. My mom tucked it away in my closet like I would want to revisit it sometime.

I stuffed trash bag after trash bag of shit. Clothes to donate. Stuff my parents would probably want. Stuff that just needed to go to the trash.

As I jerked out a pile of blankets that should have been in the hall closet and not in mine, a hoodie fell out onto the floor. I stared down at it, my heart pounding in my chest. I slowly dropped the sheets to the ground and knelt down, picking them up. I swallowed hard as the memories of that night threatened to breakthrough.

I took a deep, shaky breath as I brought it to my nose. There was just the faintest smell of him and of smoke. I closed my eyes, dropping them to the floor and backing away. I jerked open my window and braced my hands on the windowsill, taking deep breaths as I tried to keep the panic attack at bay. I pushed off the window and fumbled in my nightstand for my pack of cigarettes.

I quickly lit one and propped myself up on the window ledge, taking a long drag. I didn't care if my parents busted me. It was my birthday. They could at least let me have a cigarette. I rested my head against the frame of the window and propped one foot against the opposite side, closing my eyes. I needed to burn that sweatshirt, but something was making me want to keep it, now that I was over the shock of finding it.

How it had gotten in there, I didn't know. Maybe I'd drunkenly stuffed it up there. Maybe he put it there. Maybe my mom found it and thought it was mine. I didn't know, but maybe I needed to save it to remind myself never to let myself be in that situation again.

I didn't hear my door open, but I heard the gasp. I opened my eyes and slowly looked over. My mom stood at the entrance to my room, one hand on the door handle on her chest. At first, I thought it was about me smoking, but she was looking around the room at all the bags. I looked away and took another drag of the cigarette.

"It's not what you think," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"What is it that I think?' she asked slowly.

"That I'm going to kill myself. People give their shit away when they are prepping, but this isn't what that is," I told her.

"Get out of the window," she said softly. I sighed and did what she asked, dropping the cigarette into an old glass of water. "What are you doing, then?"

"Cleaning," I told her as I picked up Taylor's hoodie and draped it over my desk chair. "There's too much shit in here." She moved into the room and sat down on the edge of my bed. "I promise, Mom. I'm only cleaning."