As soon as I opened my eyes and saw the happy yellow colored walls I remembered. I remembered where I was and what happened. I knew that it was real, and I knew I just had to accept it.
How do you even accept something like your parents death? Or anyone you love dying? There is no closure or anything. I would never hear another one of my parents jokes about how much they hate me. Never watch another stupid football game with my dad. Never have them each come into my room at night to pull the blanket over me further. It was all gone.
I didn't know how or when I would finally feel okay, but today was not the day and that was acceptable to me.
I just needed everyone else to think I was okay. I needed to be strong and keep it all in. Nobody could know just how much this was tearing me apart because I'm Brinley and I do not let things get to me.
I blinked and rubbed at my eyes until the light was no longer making me feel dizzy. I didn't know what time it was, I just knew it was later than I usually got up because the sun was shining through the thin material of the curtains, casting a warm pale colored light on everything.
The room was not so bad, if you ignored the yellowness and the fact that it wasn't mine. I wanted to sleep in my bed in my home, but I guess this was as good as it was going to get.
The door creaked open and I jumped slightly. Mr. Harper peaked through the crack and smiled sunshine and rainbows.
"Good afternoon," He joked. I glanced at the clock, which read one thirty four pm.
I nodded, unable to find the strength in me to laugh at his dumb joke. "Yeah," I agreed with him even though I was almost certain this afternoon was not going to be good.
He looked ridiculous smiling like an idiot but the fake kind of smile where you could tell that the conversation was awkward but they wanted to put in the effort anyways. "The bathroom is at the end of the hall if you want to shower."
That was the nice way of saying that I looked like hell and I obviously needed a shower. I nodded. "Thank you."
"Um... The towels are in the bathroom just hang it up on a hook when you are done.. There is cereal downstairs help yourself. Or if you don't like cereal you can find something else. Do you need anything else? I have to go to work soon but Cara is in her office," He explained. He was dressed in a suit and tie and I wondered what kind of job he had.
I wanted to tell him that I needed help. I needed lots of help and maybe forty pounds of cocaine, I don't know. Instead I shook my head no. "Nope, thank you though."
Even if I was really upset I knew better than to be rude to people who were willing to help me. They didn't deserve rudeness or any of my problems.
He nodded and kind of half smiled before shutting the door. I waited a few minutes until I was sure that he was at least downstairs to get up.
Then I unzipped my suitcase and rummaged through it until I found a pair of dark gray sweat pants and a blink 182 t shirt. Then I crept out of the room slowly. I don't know why I was so scared, but when I got to the door at the end of the hall I was relieved to find out it was the bathroom. Mission Accomplished.
The bathroom was nice and bigger than the one at my house. It even had decorations on the back of the toilet seat. It was a vase filled with flowers and there were a couple books stacked on the back, too. When I looked at them closer I realized that they were something having to do with the bible and religion and I eternally groaned.
Hopefully they weren't the kind of religious where they wanted everyone to believe what they believe and if you don't then you are a bad person. You can be a good person without believing in anything. I know people think it's impossible, but that is just them being unable to accept that it's just human morals.
I sighed and looked in the mirror. My brown hair was tangled and looked greasy. I had black under my eyes and streaking down my face. My lips were chapped. Definitely not the best I have ever looked.
I sighed and slid off my jacket, my arm stinging in the process. I looked down at all the angry red cuts, still slightly swollen and dried with blood. My heart sank because I knew that I was stronger than this. I didn't want to go back to relying on the razor blade to keep me together.
I opened one of the cabinets on the opposite side of the sink and took out a dark colored washcloth and worked at cleaning my wrist slowly. It hurt, but at least I felt something other than sad and empty.
When it was decently cleaned and all the dried blood was off, I figured out how to turn on the water to the shower. It was faster to heat up than any shower I had ever been in and I was thankful for the warm water cascading over my body.
I shampooed my hair twice and deep conditioned it. I scrubbed my face and my body with coconut smelling body wash. I hated coconut, but it was still better than what I smelt like before.
When I got out I dried off and brushed through my hair with my fingers. I got dressed and hung the towel up, but had no idea where to put my dirty clothes so I picked them all up and decided to go ask Mrs. Harper.
Halfway down the hallway I realized I had no idea where she was. Mr. Harper had told me she was in her office if I needed her, but did he think I knew where this office was in this too large house. Nope, no idea.
I sighed, not knowing which door to open first since apparently I was opening all of them now. I decided to check the door across from the room where I was staying. I bundled all of the clothes into one arm, holding them against me and used the other arm to open creak open the door.
It was dark, smelled kind of like axe and cigarette smoke. Dark gray bed sheets and a red and black plaid comforter. Clothes were thrown across the floor carelessly and there were some huge combat boots laying next to the bed.
It looked cool, so I opened the door wider and looked around. There was a black shiny electric guitar standing in the corner, and I wondered if whoever lived or was staying in here could actually play. That would be pretty cool. I walked in, deciding to explore it a little bit.
There was also a desk, dresser and all that boring stuff. The desk had a lot of papers on it and pens scattered around. I wondered if they had been writing something, and was about to go check when someone interrupted me.
"What are you doing?"
I spun around and clutched my clothes tighter to my chest. It was literally my least favorite person and I should have been surprised, but with my luck, of course it was Michael.
"Oh my god, seriously? Why the fuck are you here?" Michael stared at me in disbelief after a few moments of me staring at him with wide eyes.
"Um.. why are you, um. I'm sorry." I stammered. I wanted to leave the room but he was standing in the doorway.
"Brinley, why are you here?" He didn't sound as mad this time.
I shrugged and stared at the floor. "I don't really want to explain right now." My voice sounds strained and I swallow the lump in my throat.
I really have no pride left.
I looked up to see Michael staring at me, his green eyes mixed with confusion and sadness. "No. I mean why are you here. As in, why are you in my room?"
He probably knew I was in foster care for some reason but at least he wasn't asking what happened. I take a deep breath. "Sorry, I was, um, trying to find where to put my dirty clothes and it looked cool so I walked in and I-I..." I rambled, feeling tears run down my face.
Nobody was supposed to know I was in foster care. My parents were dead and now everyone would know all because of Michael Clifford. He would tell everyone how I came into his home and broke down in front of him.
I heard him walking towards me as my tears filled my eyes and blurred everything.
I was such a mess.
However, instead of him telling me to get out, or making fun of me, he walked over and wiped a tear from my face.
His fingers were rough against my face and I looked at him, surprised.
Then, Michael Clifford was hugging me as I sobbed into his shirt.
