Beautiful Boy

anymore

nicolas sheff

My house looked the same as it did when I left for college, except for a sign that was made by my little siblings to welcome me home.

My Dad tapped my shoulder and gave me a signal that my siblings were hiding.

"Are Jasper and Daisy-"

"Not here," he replied.

"No?" I acted surprised.

"Nope," he confirmed.

"They didn't want to see me?" I joked, playing clueless and approaching the couch.

"No, they didn't want to see you," he repeated.

"Oh, that's weird," I said.

He nodded.

I went to sit on the couch, "So they said nothing about the-"

As I went to sit down, Daisy was hiding under the blanket.

"Oh-" I pulled the blanket off, "Oh my god!" I yelled.

I grabbed Daisy and Jasper ran out of the kitchen.

They laughed and screamed as I grabbed them both, also yelling.

I laughed, loving that my two siblings were so much younger than me, it allowed me to play with them, something that Amara never got with her sisters.

Amara.

Knowing that she was just around the block, living her life away without me hurt. A lot.

But I knew I couldn't go and see her.

I pushed away the thoughts about her and focused on playing and messing around with Daisy and Jasper.

~

"Nic?"

I looked down at Jasper, who was laying on my shoulder as Daisy slept on my lap, the soft hum of a movie playing on the television.

"Mhm?" I mumbled, resting my head on his.

"Why don't we ever see Amara anymore?" He asked.

It was like I could feel my heart being pierced by the dagger of his words.

"We aren't friends anymore," I sighed.

Saying the words out loud only added pressure to the dagger in my heart. But it was true. We weren't friends anymore.

We didn't watch crap 90s horror movies anymore.

We didn't share takeout and sing to Blink-182 in the car at night anymore.

She didn't fall asleep on me anymore.

We didn't sketch, read and write together anymore.

We didn't have sleepovers anymore.

"Why not?" Jasper pulled me from my thoughts, "She was so nice."

"She was," I replied, "But we just drifted apart. You know?"

I couldn't admit to my eight-year-old brother that I was the reason we weren't friends.

That I stupidly chose drugs over her.

"She's so pretty," he added.

"She is, isn't she?" I agreed, reminiscing on the beautiful girl I fell in love with.

"Do you love her?" Jasper asked, reading my mind.

"Of course, she was my best friend," I kissed his head.

"No, like, did you love her?" He probed.

"I'll always love her, Jasper," I mussed his hair, "We should get you two to bed."

"No!" He protested, waking Daisy up.

She yawned and snuggled up to my side, "I'm happy you're home."

"Me too," I kissed her head, "But we really should get to bed."

I managed to convince them to go to sleep, but I ended up having to tell them a bedtime story.

After shutting the light off and closing the door, I wanted drugs.

I was sure I had some left in my bag, but when I saw I didn't, I realised I needed to get more.

But I had barely any money.

However, I knew that Jasper had a few savings that could get me some from my dealer.

~

I made sure I was quiet as I retreated to my room, a bag of meth in my hand.

Perfect.

I grabbed a spoon, my lighter and a needle.

I felt great as I pushed the needle into my skin, but it didn't last long since I fell asleep almost immediately.

~

I woke up to the sound of crying and yelling from my siblings.

Like old times.

I got up and rubbed my eyes.

As I headed downstairs, I heard Daisy crying about not taking something, and Jasper shouting that she did.

My heart sunk.

After my Dad had managed to calm them down a bit, he sent them to their room and met me in the kitchen.

I poured myself a glass of orange juice, waiting for him to start a conversation.

"Jasper's savings disappeared," he said.

"Yeah, that's weird," I sipped my juice.

"Did you take his eight dollars?" He asked.

"What?" I laughed.

"You heard me," he urged.

"Why would I?" I queried.

"It disappeared, and somebody has to have-"

"Right, so it was me?" I asserted, standing up from my seat, "This is fucking ridiculous."

"Are you using again?" He asked.

"Am I using again? No," I was offended by the question.

"Are you high right now?" He inquired.

"What the fu- no. Fuck you," I replied.

"Fuck you? Don't talk to me that way. Are you high right now?" He asked again.

"No," I replied, cursing my voice for shaking.

"You're not using right now? Are you using?" He raised his voice.

"No, Dad, I'm not fucking high right now!" I yelled.

"Okay," he began, "Listen, it was a gamble to send you to college. Everybody supported it, even Amara. I'm glad you went. Relapse is a part of recovery. So I get-"

"Did you say Amara?" I asked, suddenly wondering if my ears were playing tricks on me.

"Yes, Nicolas," he nodded.

"I better leave," I said, leaving the kitchen to pack my things.

He was in contact with her?

And she supported me going to college?

And I didn't know?

I couldn't stand the idea of being in San Francisco with him.

I packed my things fast, heading to the front door to leave.

I didn't leave without having another fight with my Dad, but once I was gone, I couldn't get Amara out of my head.

Did she still care?"