We Don't Believe What's on TV

Chapter Twelve- I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas

It had been days, and I still didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do. There were speculations, and no one seemed to be able to let it go. By some miracle, Lauren hadn't yet been found out and harassed endlessly.

It was chewing at the back of my mind constantly - I wanted - needed - to know who was behind it, how I could stop it, but what with being with Sienna and Lauren and Casey's crew all the time, I was constantly being sucked into 'activities' which led to me either being too worn out or having no time to get to the bottom of anything.

Whenever I tried to talk to Lauren about it, she would brush it off and change the subject - it infuriated me.

I'd once compared Lauren to thin sand, flowing through my fingers at a pace I wasn't able to keep up with - but abruptly, the smooth grains that were her presence became gravel; thick, sharp gravel that was easier to catch but so much harder to hold. And when I did, blood poured out of the gashes in my palms.

Once upon a time, I had liked this little game between the two of us, but now I could see why I couldn't understand her. Why every time I tried to catch up to her whirlwind lifestyle, I fell behind, out of breath, and suddenly it wasn't fun anymore. This was a game to her. I was a game to her, and it felt horrible.

I looked over at her now, thinking about Phil.

Just around now was when the regret had really started seeping in.

God, what had I done?

Me and my stupid pride, sitting here among people I didn't know and didn't like, alone sat on giant dumpsters placed behind a shitty motel that had gone to waste. Who had even remotely thought this had been a good idea?

I saw children distantly haggling at one another at what seemed to be a giant brick of - something as a lady burst through the door and began yelling at them. There were places like this everywhere - I just had never been in one. Or ever thought I'd even remotely belong in one. Because I didn't. Probably.

So far today, I'd seen a girl gang, aged from only thirteen and higher smoking at this very spot - and when I did, I'd narrowed my eyes at them - from afar, they seemed like the badass women in movies that gunned down police cars and brought justice. But really, they were girls born out of poverty or abusive homes that had banded together to become their own family. A family where everyone was rough and harsh and acted like assholes, but who accepted you anyway and shared a sense of comfort and belonging with you. They were slouched and sour-faced, but I could see that they weren't fighting material, even with their lipstick and coats. Not a group to be fetishized.

Not a badass group of strong women, but a group of people who would rather be here than where they had come from. In fact - we were like this too. This wasn't even a gang. The people all around me were literally idiots.

Except for maybe Casey - although I wasn't exactly sure what his deal was. He talked to the others like they were his brothers and sisters, even acted stupid in front of them, but when no one was looking, I caught him with a cigarette in hand, tapping his fingers over his lips, deep in thought as he stared at everyone else being generally insane.

But - Phil. Right now, I could be sitting on my sofa in the lounge, comfortable and not being constantly pierced by the metal ridges under my butt. I missed the safety and comfort of our home more than ever, but this was the lifestyle I was beginning to fall into.

The group around me was rowdy. They were hooting, yelling to see who would be able to climb the highest up the side of the building. They weren't even remotely intoxicated. This was theri normal behaviour.

Even while deep in thought about all this shit, I still couldn't get the Photo off my mind.

"Cory! Cory! Cory! Cory!" They chanted as a pale, skinny guy tried to claw his way a brick higher. He fell, caught by Casey, who'd stepped up out of nowhere, making sure he wasn't hurt.