𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚘𝚢 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝙳𝚘𝚘𝚛

01

Imani

🄹🅄🄻🅈

*POP!*

The familiar sound of the cork could be heard from my place on our spiral steps. A heavy sigh left my lips as I simply debated even going down.
        Once again, she had proved me right. She proved to me that she just couldn't give up this--This stupid habit.
     'A habit that would slowly kill her'
I rolled my eyes. I couldn't careless. I was done crying and worrying over someone who didn't give a shit about themselves.
        A lie.
'Not a lie.'
        I huffed, continuing to make my way down the spiral.
       "So how do you like the house?" My judgmental, drunk of a mother instantly ask me as soon as my left foot hit the last step.
       "I love it. It's different." I say in a soft voice. Eyeing the grey that adorned the walls of the new done kitchen.
        I honestly hated it. It was too dull, boring even. It needed a vibrant color, or we could settle for a muted one, but I wouldn't tell her that.
        It would probably push her past the brink of what little sanity she had left. Mentally, I curse myself for drifting off again. I always do when talking to her nowadays.
       "I love it too. Thanks honey." I tune her out again as she threw back another sip of the Stella Rose wine. She loved that wine. It seemed all the rage these days, but I wouldn't know.
       Drinking isn't something I partake in. . . I don't really partake in anything really.
I thought it was stupid. Drowning yourself to the point your stumbling and shit faced.
       How was that any fun? Rolling my eyes, I move away from her to go watch the movers move our furniture in-and-out of the new house my mother just bought a few months ago.
       Like I said, I hated it. I feel like it was an impulse buy given our situation. It was also way smaller than the one I grew up in - It didn't give me that warm cozy feeling when you stepped through the entrance. 
       What it felt like was the nature I grew up surrounded by had been sucked right out of me. Forcefully. No streams, no birds chirping, no sounds of branches bristling together making the beautiful song of nature.
        Just a modernized neighborhood with barely any trees.
        'Barely anything' More importantanly. My home. . .It held memories.
      Important ones. Ones that I cared for deeply and ones that I damn sure didn't want to let go of. Never. The ache in my heart threatens my emotions to break all over again.
      For the umpteenth time, I force myself to swallow the hard lump that forms in my throat.
      . . .We just left him there. The guilt now settling in on my conscious eats away at me.
      And I could feel the dark emotion try to take over, so I quickly did what I did best. I stuffed it down in the deepest parts of my mind. It's something I grown to do quite often now.
      Something you should probably stop.
But I wouldn't. I mean I couldn't anyways. I've grown way too comfortable — too attached really.
'Fuck! I'm drifting again.'
I snap myself out of this stupid daze I seem to catch myself in ever so often. I can't seem to fight away the blur that consumes me. Pushing me far into the back of my mind.
It's scary really. I go so far back that, I can never seem to hear around me.

I'm just. . . stuck. . . .

See, I almost did it again.

My tongue darts to wet the dry skin of my lips as my first act back into the real world.

'I wonder how long I was out for.'

I walk back upstairs into my bedroom once more since I was bored.

It was pretty nice and I couldn't wait to make it my favorite part of the house. Despite hating it.