Roommates

Chapter 10

Wedged between the tight covers, Aurora twisted in anxious regrets. Her own talkativeness echoed in her thoughts, and she couldn't shake the feeling that Evangeline might be regretting the decision to allow her to stay. Constrained by politeness and the straight jacket sheets, Aurora couldn't just leave in the middle of the night. She had nowhere else to go, so she reluctantly lay victim to her deceptive mind.

She circled back to the mention of the bartender, a flicker of realization coloring her reflection. Yes, perhaps it was too personal, an unintentional breach into territory best left uncharted. With every mental replay, she recognized the misstep, and the weight of regret continued to pin her against the plush mattress.

Of course nobody wanted to listen to her past. Aurora didn't want to hear about her own life. It was depressing, messy, and down-right laughable. She coughed on her embarrassment. She fought the thoughts to go away, and soon they moved on. She could focus on what actually mattered.

Getting her shit together.

She couldn't recall the police lights from earlier or anything the officers had said. She couldn't even hear Sam's booming voice. It had all vanished. It was as if every other moment of her day had been locked in a box.

Aurora's mind fixated on her recent interaction with Evangeline, the details of their conversation overpowering any other knowledge she held about herself. It became a singular point in her consciousness, destroying record of everything else.

She had to try to remember how she got here. It was scattered, but slowly it came to the forefront of her mind's eye. Facts appeared as if they were scenes from a terrible movie Aurora had once seen. There was no emotion attached to her recollection of thoughts, fortunately.

She fought to find her way to her memories of the last time she got kicked out of a house. She had ended up couch-hopping for over a year, before moving here. It wasn't as terrible as she once thought homelessness would be. Between a large community of well-off friends, she was able to make the most out of living in her car through her associate's degree in Northern Utah. Hot showers every night and meals that were easily accessible made it a breeze.

She only hoped this experience would be just as pleasant.

The only difference was that she had friends in Utah. Unfortunately, here, her only "friend" was Evangeline, an enigma at best. Aurora wouldn't call her anything more than an acquaintance with a generous heart.

After how terribly wrong tonight went, Aurora knew she was completely alone here. With a seamless transition, she spiralled again. The sense of disorientation and impending solitude gripped her, intensifying the scattered nature of her thoughts.

She cursed in her mind as she ran through her puny list of options and exhausted her opportunities. Aurora was utterly screwed. How was she supposed to dig herself out of this ugly hole if every way she turned she was knocked down again?

The road of her journey made little to no sense at all. From one day be enjoying life to its fullest to struggling to want to go on. She pleaded with the universe for an opportunity to go back in time.

Aurora had a blissful life before all of this, truthfully. She was living a luxurious life in Provo with her family. She had all of her needs met consistently. She never had to work for anything; she never had to beg. Her mom doted on her so long as she was in school. She had an easy life.

Now, to hell with that! The idyllic chapter unraveled. Her parents, once a wellspring of support, cut off her lifeline of sustained income. The pillars crumbled one by one— first housing, then access to family cars and the promise of tuition money—all casualties of a tumultuous shift. The catalyst for this upheaval was her father. Yes, he was the grand architect of her newfound struggles. The ease of life disintegrated into the chaos of uncertainty, leaving Aurora to grapple with the abrupt loss of everything she once took for granted.