𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃

50

HER LOVER

That night, me and Casei laid in my bed together, my mother's soft snores carrying through the house as Casei slept quietly besides me. It was so dark that I could only make out the outline of her body, her nice face, the rest of her underneath the sheets. She was curved against me like a newborn, her breathing gentle like a feather. Her hair was wrapped up with a sheen of sweat along her hairline, she'd probably throw it off midnight, and push the covers back anyways.

And then there was me.

I held her against me, the back of my cotton tee pressed against my spine from the humidity, a pair of shorts on and my cold feet pressed against hers.

Oh, if this wasn't what love is all about.

But my mother says that no one will love me. I'm the way that I am and I'm destined to be this way forever. Of course, she seems to have a change of heart now, warming up to Casei and all, but...those words stuck to me.

Words have a habit of attracting glue. They stay with the soul far longer than the memory or the moment attached with the words. The emotions stick too, they just might be the glue.

They burn like a hot glue gun when you think about them too long, like a needle pressed into your thumb, or a knife across the palm. It aches even more when the words come from someone who's supposed to care for you.

How can I believe that Casei and I will only keep growing? That maybe one day we'll go to the same college and eventually have a home together and maybe even a family...maybe even grow old and grey with one another.

Mother's know best, right?

I should be trusting my mother's words. She raised me. She saw me become the person that I am today. Why would she ever steer me wrong? Why would she ever concoct a lie? I'm a child, surely she wouldn't want me to be unhappy. She's already done her sacrificing, she's already paid the fees for what happened in Houston. My heart has to, because a piece of it will always remain with Euphemie wherever they are now.

A piece of my heart is traveling across the country, across the world right now, in a beat up RV that smells like weed and maybe day-old pizza. But most of it lies here next to Casei, like I do. Cat claw necklaces, dyed hair, an adorable smile, and all.

Most of me is here.

A bit of it even resides with my dad in his new apartment, one flat screen, fridge filled with only frozen lasagna and pantry filled with junk food. A mattress on the floor, and his new PlayStation with two controllers, one for me, one for him.

Some of it is even with my mother, here in a place that used to be filled with tense air and shouting and the sounds of keyboards clacking late night instead of a soft goodnight to younger me and a bedtime story.

But what is left of my heart for me?

Does my heart belong to me, or was it made to be given to everyone else?

I slip out of the bed and make sure the covers are on Casei nice. I leave my bedroom and tip toe down the stairs, heading towards the basement. I walk across the cold wooden floor and turn the corner into the kitchen. Glancing around me in the dark house that seemed more foreign and peaceful to me everyday, I open the big drawer.

The one with the knives.

Skinny, long, thick, wide...and most definitely sharp.

I hold the handle tightly in my hand as I head back upstairs with the biggest knife. I peek my head into my room and Casei is still laying there, asleep.