Room On Fire

Room On Fire Chapter 6

Eden

Once we reached home, we were both relived to find that dad wasn’t home yet. Abby hurried me up the stairs and into my bedroom, dragging out suitcases from the top shelf in my closet.

“We can’t pack too much. I have money to buy anything we forget, alright?” She said. I agreed and opened all my dresser drawers.

I couldn’t leave my favourite band tee shirts, so I tossed those onto my bed first, along with every pair of underwear and socks I had. You can never have too many of those.

“What about my shoes?” I asked, glancing down at the rows of black sneakers and boots along my wall. Abigail grabbed my favourite pair of leather creepers, some hello kitty flip flops, and my spray painted black converse high tops.

I bit my lip as I silently wished I could bring them all, but quickly dropped the thought as Abby came up beside me. She started shuffling through my pants drawer, pulling out every pair of worn jeans and cut off shorts. Then she went to my closet for my more formal looking clothes.

“You always need something nice, you know?” She chuckled, tossing my homecoming dress onto the bed as well. I bought it months before the actual homecoming night, and then ended up not even going because I didn’t have a date.

Once we finished packing clothes, Abby left to go pack her own, leaving me to gather other little things I would need. It’s not like I was going to miss this town, but my room was always special to me. My purse from earlier was resting on the floor where I left it so I quickly retrieved my iPod, plugging to in to the dock on my desk. A slow Mayday Parade song wafted from the speakers, but I needed something heavier.

After hitting the shuffle button a few times, Marilyn Manson’s deep, torturous voice exploded in my ears. I smiled, now content with myself, and continued to pack.

My diary was between my mattress and box-spring, as was my two lighters, yellow and blue, and three packages of Marlboro Lights, one unopened, and two only half full. After hastily shoving them in my purse, I went to my desk drawers. I pulled out every journal, every notebook, and my pack of multi coloured pens and tossed them into the suitcase.

The interior of the suitcase was a dull grey and the outside was jet black. It wasn’t very big, but it would do. I delicately ran my fingers along the leather of my boots and tucked them safely inside along with all my clothes and books. ‘All my life in one place’, I thought to myself, ‘all I need to fit in was Abby.’

Duncan

As I started up my jeep wrangler, I couldn’t help but let my thoughts wander to Vanessa. Everything we have been through, turned out, to be for nothing. She’s unhappy and still living under my roof and she is still very much in love with me. This was the part I just could not fathom. Why me?

Vanessa is a beautiful girl, or she was before she let herself, and everything else, go. Her hair was always sleek and wavy down her back, her eyes always sparkled and her skin was always glowing. Everything about her was so perfect to me, so why did I let her go?

I turned the radio back on and an upbeat Adam Ant song filled the interior of the car. I smiled to myself, recalling the day I met Abby for the first time. It was at a Strokes show downtown, she was stuck outside because she was under twenty-one. The bouncer was a very heavyset man with a bald spot and stretched lobes; he ignored her sweet pleas with a straight face. I remember admiring her from a distance, the way her hair was a perfect shade of black with flashes of dark blue. She had round, doe eyes that were filled with an obvious mixture of anger and sadness.

‘Please, mister! It would complete my life. They are my life! You don’t understand!” She whispered, it was barely audible from where I was standing, but the tune of her voice convinced my feet to get closer.