Drinking Numb (The Numbing Series #1)

Chapter Seven

<"i hate this feeling. like i'm here, but i'm not. like someone cares. but they don't. like i belong somewhere else, anywhere but here. . .">
Ellen Hopkins
•ᖇᑌE•
•October 24, 2015•
Life around me slowly begins to return to normal. Nothing has really changed, but somehow, at the same time, it feels like everything's determined to be deviant. Last year I knew where I stood, and now, I shuffle through doubting myself the whole way.

It's October now. Somehow I've ended up working nights at a bowling ally right outside of town, Coastal Lanes. I don't do much. I get people shoes, free jammed balls, and sit there staring at the people that roll in. The pay isn't that great, but I suppose it gives me something to do. I've decided not to dwell on what happened that night. There's nothing I can do about it. I don't even know what happened. Kohl does. I've come to resent him for it.

"Last stop, hon. You've got to get off now," the bus driver says. I peel my forehead from the cold glass window and move slowly to the front. "Do have somewhere to go tonight," the lady asks.

I must look pretty bad for her to ask, but I can't really blame her. This time of the year I can barely say I have a home. Strange men seem to over run the place.

"I've got a place."

My foot hits the ground, and I'm standing in a huge puddle. The water reaches up to my ankles soaking my converses. I groan circling from frustration to indifference. I find myself resisting the urge to kick at something as the rain comes down harder.

I walk on the side of the road through the edge of town passing the different lights and cars and people. People with their friends and families making racket with their talk and laughter and music. They're all so sharp and focused having their lives planned out for them with the people they want to spend them with. I'm blurry and muted in comparison.

The rain starts up again as if the worlds agreeing with me. My red Coastal Lanes T-shirt sticks to me and my black skinny jeans become heavy. Any hope to stay dry has vanished as I trudge along.

I've settled into a boring routine the past two months. I get coffee every morning, go to school and work, and then I wait here at my pavilion, sleeping, thinking, and listening to waves that steadily hit the shore. Avoiding Kohl has also become routine. Sometimes I find him looking at me, but every time I catch him, he looks away as a flashes of guilt and longing run through me. It's become natural to ignore it and too live in denial. It is what I'm good at.

Ira, on the other hand, has pretty much taken my advice and stayed away from me. She's gotten herself in the in crowd. If she's not hanging with Lydia and Sophie, two populate on the school dance team, she's talking to Kohl. I can't say I'm not jealous of the last part, but I ignore that too.

Just like I'm ignoring the fact that my teeth chattering up a storm, and I can hardly feel my extremities. The rain pounds harder at the roof above me blocking out any other sounds besides thunder. The white Christmas lights flicker and hurry to yank my flashlight out of my bag. Turning it on, I also find my knife, good jacket, and vodka. I strip off my wet articles of clothing, including my shoes, and rap myself in my thick, furry jacket and sweat pants I recently bought. I pull my feet inside of my warm pants. I pull my hood over my head and curl up my knees into my chest under the barely standing table nobody uses anymore. Nobody usually comes to this particular pavilion except for me really.

You may be wondering why I don't just go home, and I know its probably stupid to be here in the rain and cold. I can't bring myself to go to Yak's. Charles has an idea of my home situation, but he doesn't know how bad it is, that I don't even sleep at home anymore. Nobody does.
I'd be surprised if mom even notices.
Nonetheless, I can't be taken away from her. I can't have someone tip me off to DHS again. She's all I've got. Call me crazy, but I just have to get through this season, and it'll be fine. I only have one year until I turn eighteen anyways. What would the point be to cause so much trouble?