Admit It

2; smoke

Shawn tilted his head toward the brightening moon as he breathed out the rest of the grey smoke, letting the joint fall from his fingertips and into the trash bin expertly placed below his balcony. Despite common belief, he didn't smoke often, but sometimes all he wanted in this empty house was to get high and play guitar until the sun rose again in the morning. Tonight wasn't a guitar night, though. Tonight was an anniversary. 

Shaking his head of the thoughts, Shawn lit another joint, legs dangling off the edge of the balcony from where he sat on the railing. 

He couldn't stay out here for long, even if he wanted to skip school, he still needed to take Aaliyah to school. Technically, he could've let her ride to school with those boys from across the street, but he didn't want her to have to go through all of the questions and the 'I'm sorry's that were sure to pull from the tragic anniversary. Thinking about it, he should let her stay home tomorrow as well. 

Half an hour later, Shawn tossed the second joint off the balcony and jumped from the railing. He walked inside his bedroom, just through the glass door that had taken the brunt of much of his anger but had somehow never broken, and into the next room over where his sister slept. There was a reason he moved to this specific room- his little sister sometimes got scared of the dark and needed to come over. 

He creaked open the door to see Aaliyah reading a thick book with a questionable author on her bed, using the same four nightlights she always had. As soon as the door pushed open, she slammed shut the book and tucked it under her bed frame. 

A small smile tugged at Shawn's lips. 

"You know I don't care what you're reading," he laughed. 

Technically, as her only parent figure, he should've limited her more. But at her age, kids were sure to read about some decapitation or smut or anything between, and if someone could handle what she had handled at that young of an age, she could decide which books she wanted to read or not. 

"It's just... weird." She shrugged. "It's been so long but I'm still not used to you not caring, you know?" 

Shawn knit his eyebrows. "I care about you- a lot- but you're smart enough to find your own books. And everyone your age knows what sex is." Aaliyah's cheeks flushed bright red. "I suffered through middle school once too." 

"You don't have to say it like that," she mumbled, embarrassed. 

He smiled and leaned over her bed, placing a small kiss on the top of her head before reaching under the bed frame and handing her book back. 

"Sleep in as long as you want, you don't need to go to school tomorrow. I love you," he added, before closing the door. 

Shawn leaned against the wall next to her door and let out a deep breath. Every living second he wished his parents could still be here, so Aaliyah could grow up with real parents and not her messy, fucked up 18 year old brother, but as he thought about his parents, he was constantly reminded how Aaliyah almost didn't make it out. And that was always when he realized just how much that little girl was holding the pieces of his cold, shattered heart together. 

He wandered down the stairs, each step growing heavier as the tragic anniversary grew closer. His fingers lingered on the small, pink painted flower on the railing. He painted that for his mother when he was 6 years old, and even though his father was out of his mind over it, his mother hugged him and promised to make sure it never got painted over. 

'I'm going out for an hour, call me if you want me to come home,' he texted Aaliyah and walked outside. Where he was going, he didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't be in that house when the clock struck midnight.  

A click sounded from his palm and the low black car in front of the house roared with a thundering sounds and a show of flashy, red lights. Shawn ran down the stone driveway and climbed in the car, the cool leather of the wheel pressing against his palm. He turned the key in the ignition and sped down the street. 

His eyes never left the road in front of him as he drove 70 miles per hour through the dark streets, the billboards and cars beside him flying by as tiny pinpricks of color. He remembered his father desperately gripping onto the seatbelt when they went out for his first drive after getting his license. It had been late and pitch black like it was now. When Shawn had made it clear that he wasn't going to go on his first drive at any time other than at night, his father jumped right into the car, saying, "You're going to die. That's why I need to come." 

Disturbing were those words thinking about them now, especially when you considered the thought of his body sunken in a car at the bottom of a lake. 

Shawn pushed the thought to the back of his mind and turned on the radio to as loud as it could go. He used to do that so he could belt the lyrics without having to hear his own voice, but right then, he did it to drown out the rest of the noises that swam around in his mind. He opened the window as well, not caring if the cars nearby could hear his music. 

By the time half an hour had passed and the hour of midnight grew hauntingly close, Shawn's thoughts were almost vacant enough to forget why he had gotten in the car in the first place. But when the music on the radio suddenly stopped, and an announcer's voice began rattling off a list of facts about today's date, he knew that the anniversary had come. 

The car jerked to the right as he slammed the gas pedal to speed into the nearest dark parking lot, the tires creating a squeaking noise on the freshly paved road. He pulled the key out of the ignition and dropped it somewhere near his feet. 

Shawn put one arm down on the steering wheel, then the other, and lowered his eyes on top of them. Even in the tense position, his fingers began shaking, his lip quivering, and his heartbeat rising in a sudden spike. His body gave a large quake, and a small whimper left his mouth. 

But not a single tear fell from his eyes. It had been one year since he last cried. And now, it seemed like he had forgotten how to. 

_______

sept 15, 2022