In the seeming chaos of high school, Charlie has always watched from the sidelines, his keen eye behind the lens of his camera capturing fleeting moments of beauty and ugliness alike. Since losing his grandmother, his world has grown colder, a mere...
*A/N: New chapter!! I know, I know, I usually update once a week but I am on a roll! Enjoy, the chapter is a short one but emotionally packed!
P.S: I really like the song How To Disappear Completely by Radiohead for this chapter.
Here is the link: https://youtu.be/6W6HhdqA95w?feature=shared
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The soft crunch of the snow brought a distinct comfort to me as I walked home after the ball. The excitement I felt was slowly ebbing away to the cold air of the December night, leaving me only to my thoughts as I chose the solitude of the walk home, needing to escape the whirlwind of feelings that had spiraled beyond my control.
The small snowflakes drifting around me brought memories to the edge of my subconscious—thoughts of my family and grandma building a huge snowman in the front yard, the cold biting at our hands as the snow bunched together under our grips, the big carrot we used for the nose of the snowman.
Smiles were seen, and laughter was shared until it developed into a full-blown snowball fight, and our clothes were completely ruined. The thought brought a smile to my face, but the warmth of the dance drained out of me as the cold nip of December replaced it.
The silence welcomed me into its abyss as I continued to trudge through the midnight streets. A snowflake fell on my face, and I edged my head back to the sky, reveling in its darkness—the void it provided and the loneliness it brought me to. The snowflake softened, bringing me back to Dylan's lips, how soft they were—the fleeting warmth it provided. I could feel the shadows prowling the night, the whispers taunting at the edges of my ears. The darkness in my heart crept back.
When I arrived home, the lights were off, but I could see the dull light of the TV through the window, the way my father sprawled in a pool of his own vomit, crowded by beers. I stood there, mute and motionless, appraising him. The empty beer cans littered the floor, a stark reminder of misplaced priorities. If only he took as much care of us as he did for his beer, I thought bitterly.
Then I laughed—a sound foreign to my ears. It was not a happy laugh, nor a sad one; it was a broken laugh that trembled from my chest. Shadows closed in around me, and I could almost feel their icy breath. The laughter morphed into cruel jeers in my mind. 'Why can't you be happier?' 'You're just a burden.' Each whisper clung to the silence, and I gripped my head as if to squeeze out the voices.
Images flashed like lightning—my grandma's smile, Dad's disappointment, Dylan's soft lips now feeling like a faint betrayal. 'Why didn't I say what I wanted?' The question echoed endlessly, tightening my chest until it was hard to breathe. The darkness shifted, forming shadows—figures I'd known: my mother, my grandma—their faces twisted in concern. 'You're disappointing,' they chanted, rising in a cacophony that threatened to swallow me whole. Then it happened: a flood of emotion burst forth with a guttural scream. I collapsed to my knees, the cold floor grounding me as I cried out, 'Why can't I escape this?' The shadows closed in, and the whispers drowned my pleas, driving me deeper into an abyss I couldn't escape.
I screamed—a savage scream—for my abusive father, for my dead grandmother, for my innocent mother, for me. I gripped my camera as if I could break it with only a little pressure; its significance was my loss, our loss as a family. It was a sign of morbid nature—a foreshadowing curse, I thought. I looked at it for seconds, but it felt like an eternity before I threw it at the TV. Its frame visibly shuddered, and the sick crack coming from the TV stopped me short as my eyes widened.
No. No. No.
What did I do? I dropped down on my knees and crawled to its desolate state—broken and useless. Memories of my grandma's loving voice talking softly to me and taking pictures with the camera flooded my mind—beauty, ugliness. It was all a blur in the end. It meant nothing. Nothing.
I got up and slowly made my way to the front door. The home my grandma made for us was now just a house—empty, cold, lifeless. I arrived on the front lawn, the beauty of the falling snow meddling with the ugliness of the dark hearth. I lay back down, facing the ground, my head towards the cloudless night sky. I laughed—a sick laugh. My body became someone else's as my arms and legs moved. A snow angel, I thought.
My laugh fell on deaf ears; the cold enveloped me—my missing warmth replaced by it, smothered. I heard footsteps—frantic footsteps. I thought I could hear my name, but who knows? Maybe it was the shadows, the whispers. My vision focused on Dylan. Dylan, I thought, this must be another sick trick of the mind. I laughed louder this time; more broken. His face was overcome with emotions—fear, sadness, concern.
As I lay there in the stillness of the night, enveloped by the cold embrace of falling snow, I realized that even the purest joy was only ever a frail illusion—a glimmer lost in the shadows of my loneliness.
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