𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀,, hobie brown.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈.

( gif by hazzawckd <3 )

The rush of adrenaline keeps me up half the night. I give up on sleeping and lay on my back in my bed, occasionally glancing out at the window at the nightlife before shifting my gaze over to the clock that rests on my dresser. It's nowhere near six, but my heart is pounding in my chest like I was late for something.

I count the grooves in the wall. Everything in my room is bare, untouched, exactly how it looked when Monique sent me the photos a month ago. They were kind enough and lent me their old furniture that they no longer wanted, so most of it was expensive handy downs.

My things are still in my suitcase, the clothes piling on top from searching for an outfit lay there without any motivation to clear it off. Under any other circumstance, I'd have rushed to unpack, but there they lay, propped open against the chipped painted wall, bursting at the seams. Inside remains my old life: clothes, my laptop, an envelope of developed photos I took on my polaroid camera and an old notebook I can't seem to leave behind.

I sit up, my eyes focusing on the neon blue light that hangs outside on the opposite building before my feet hit the cold ground. Gripping my suitcase, I pull it towards me before I pull out the first envelope and stare down at the photos with a blank look. The first one is a picture I took of me, my sister and our older brother at the water park a year ago today. There is always this sense of melancholy when I hold it, like I am looking at someone who no longer exists. We are leaning against the railing at the new waterslide they built, we have fake medals saying we survived and I'm the only one who has two thumbs up.

Our brother left for the military a month later, he doesn't come around or message often as he promised, but I see his facebook posts and he is living his best life.

The second is of my mom and me during a trip to Chicago during new years eve. I'm in her arms, wrapping my own around her, grinning at the camera as the fireworks shoot off behind us. Mom is smiling, too, but it's noticeably different from the ones I see now. Her smile seems genuine, here, and behind her eyes doesn't have that linger of panic.

...

The morning routine calms me. I start by turning the water on and wiping off the fog that clouds the mirror to see my reflection. I wrap my hair up with the towel before placing the tips of my fingers on my cheeks and dragging them down, the skin following before it goes back into place when I let go. Some days it feels like I'm staring back at a ghost rather than myself, a ghost of someone who no longer exists.

By the time I am finished, it's nearing six-thirty in the morning, which means Tiana and Sydni are still up doing god knows what. Instead of clicking on our group chat to call, I scroll a bit further down to Shawn's number, an anxious feeling lingering in the back of my chest as I hit the call button. I know he is up because he doesn't sleep, he likes working late into the night or even playing video games but complains about how sleep deprived he is the next day.