Through the window

Eight

April 19th

I stayed in my room the last couple days, I didn't want to go downstairs to see my family. I didn't want to go outside and see Milo, I just wanted to stay under the covers.

And that's just what I did.

My curtains were closed and have been for days, I couldn't risk seeing Milo. If I did I'd probably climb through my window then climb through his and smother him with one of his own pillows in his sleep. Or throttle him. Haven't decided which is worse yet.

I hate him if you couldn't tell.

We were getting along okay, still disliked him and found him irritating, until he got me in trouble with my father. My dad was right when he said having friends brings nothing but trouble.

I hear my belly rumble so I get out of bed with resistance. The first time in a while.

My parents aren't home, I heard them leave earlier this morning which is the first time in a couple days. So now I can actually leave my room, and I do.

I go downstairs in my pj's, just some shorts and a tank top. What? Did you expect me to sleep in silk or something. I love my fashion but I do love being comfy too.

I eat the breakfast the maid put in front of me in the kitchen, I threaten to fire her again. Just for fun.

It's hilarious seeing her worry.

Anyway, once my breakfast is done I go into the living room. There's a new rug, black this time. Which I have to laugh at, how different it is from the last. They probably are expecting me to mess it up again.

The sofa is clean, looks brand new but I can see a burn mark at the bottom right corner from my dad's cigarette that one time. I remember that, I remember because he blamed it on me when it was entirely his fault, and besides I was eight so what would I be doing with a cig?

I turn on the TV and watch it for an hour or so, family guy. My mother says how It's such a shit show but I like it, always watch it when they're not here. When they are here I stay hidden in my room.

I don't have a TV in my room, my parents don't allow it. I don't know why but whatever it is I don't question it.

I turn the TV off and stand up to stretch, going on my tippy toes and stretching up as high as I can, no where near reaching the ceiling as it towers over me. With it's golden chandiler hanging down.

I catch a figure in the corner of my eye and look infront of me, at the window which leads to Milo's living room window. I scrunch my brows up when I see him with two guys, a lad with light brown curlyish hair. And a guy stood close to him with darker hair and tattoos all over.

I advert my eyes back to Milo who stands opposite them with a wide smile, that dorky grin he always has. His eyes are crinkled up and he looks happy in that moment.

Which I hate.

No, I despise.

How come he gets to be happy and hang with his friends and I'm here, alone, grounded and feeling miserable.

Whatever, fuck him. And his freak of friends.

I go to the window and shut the curtains then storm out of the room, forgetting all about him. Or trying to at least.

I walk slowly along the hallways and glance at all the pictures hung up, pictures of my parents. Pictures of their parents and so on and so on. My ancestors and distant family look at me through the pictures and I can't help but cower.

They don't seem nice, none of the Gardners do. They have permanent scowls and soulless eyes, I shiver at that.

I come across another row of pictures, I trace a picture of me, the only picture there is of me which is near the back door going into the garden. It's me when I was younger, six or so. Whatever age, he looks happy.