Through the depths

Chapter 10

Jasmine

"Are you ok? Is there anything I can get for you?" Darien asked standing at the bedroom door. Jasmine shook her head. She'd been sitting on his bed for the past hour, allowing him to fix and clean up whatever he could. The apartment had been surprisingly nitty. It was small and unfurnished with just a small couch and a large T.V mounted the wall. In His bedroom, he had a king size bed, two nightstands and a small lamp. It was obvious that he didn't spend much time there. She remembered when they were in high school, and she would hang out with him at his mother's house. They always ended up spending half of the time cleaning up his room. To find his home so neat hinted that he did not spend much time there.

"I'm guessing you don't live here?" she said, offering him a small smile. Darien walked into the bedroom and handed Jasmine a thin blanket.

"Here, this is all I could find," he said, handing it to her.

"I don't remember you being this clean," she continued. He tried to look hurt, but she could see the laugher in his eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I always had to clean your room." she shrugged.

He smiled.

"That's because you were always a neat freak, if a shirt wasn't hung up it was a problem," He pointed out. He was right. She was kind of O.C.D with the tidying. But little did he know cleaning up his room was always an escape from the lack of cleaning she could do in her own home at the time. Candace, her mother, always threw a fit if her pipes were moved, or if she came home and whatever poison she was cooking was dumped. So, she and her twin learned to just accept the filth the way it was. For years she had to accept the way things were, that's possibly why now in her adult years she spends hours cleaning up hers and Colin's apartment even if they could literally eat off the floor with the amount of sanitizing she does.

"Yeah, that's because your house was the only place I could clean," she admitted. She watched him stand in front of her awkwardly, he was struggling to decide if he should sit next to her or not. After what happened in the hospital it's probably not a good idea that he does. But it's not a good idea that she was in his apartment either. She should've moved away when he placed his forehead against hers back at the hospital. But she couldn't, in that split second, she wanted him to kiss her again. The way his eyes locked on hers as if he was trying to take her pain away tugged at her heart slightly. It was a dangerous game she was playing, she knew it and she can feel Darien did too. Truthfully though she needed him, he was the only person who knew her inside out. The only person who knew all her childhood trauma, and how she learned to cope with them. Now with what happened to Khalil, he was once again the only one she knew would feel what she did. Without giving it much thought she shifted on the bed, granting him silent permission to share her space. Darien carefully sat down, keeping his hand on his thighs. Jasmine smiled at his nervousness. She liked that. Maybe he would be too nervous to try anything again, she honestly does not know how she would react if he did.

"Candace hated when we tried to clean, she said we only move her shit around when we did," Jasmine continued. She stared into distance as the memories surfaced. They were never allowed to clean; Candace didn't want them finding her stash. For most of their lives they weren't allowed in the kitchen either. It wasn't because she was an overly protective mother, it was because she didn't want the girl messing up her "medicine" that she was cooking. At a young age neither Jasmine nor her sister understood why their mother insisted on taking "medicine" that made her feel so bad. She would lay on the couch for hours passed out after, she would forget who they were. Forget to feed or care for them. But looking back now, Jasmine was thankful she always had her medicine, because when she couldn't get her hands on those snow-white bags, she was a very angry, nasty woman.