Identity [ON HIATUS]

18. Familiar Spaces

When I left school that afternoon, I didn't go home. I wanted to talk, to get it all out, and I hadn't spoken to my parents properly in weeks. They tried, oh Lord, did they try, but my tongue shrivelled up and died inside of my mouth every time they breathed around me.

We would eat dinner in silence, and as I felt Rose burst at the seams of my mind, I would excuse myself and run upstairs, before she was let out. Before she turned up the music and painted my nails and rubbed black stuff on my eyes.

Before she carried my ass to Charlie's.

For the most part, I saw what would happen when she was with Charlie. They talked about stuff that didn't sound right; she would gab and chat about things that they did together, but Charlie nodded along when clearly, he had no idea what she was talking about. It seemed my mind had filled in the gaps into my lack of knowledge. And then, she would initiate something, and every time it happened, I felt a burning sensation inside of me. I don't know if it was from Rose's passion or something that was awaking inside of me.

But when I left school, and when I didn't go home, I found myself standing in front of Charlie Merchant's closed door.

I knocked, and when he didn't answer and I didn't hear movement when I pressed my ear to the cold, green wood, I looked up. A picture rail ran along the wall just above the door, where I had seen Rose reach for a spare key, and so I did the same. It was the only part of the picture rail that wasn't dusty, but I accidentally brushed some off anyway, and clouds of the dust came sweeping down in tendrils like fallen strands of hair, making me cough and wheeze.

This complex is disgusting.

I tried the key, surprised that it actually worked, and let myself in. Was this trespassing? Was I committing a crime? Apparently, Rose did this all the time; either she told me in some creepy voice in the back of my mind or I saw it. I saw her wander in and make herself comfortable with a bowl of chips and reruns with her feet up.

The apartment was cold, like Charlie hadn't been home for a while. It was 4pm on a Friday. I'd never asked whether the guy worked and if he didn't, where the Hell he got his money from. He was always here at weird times of the day, as if maybe he was on a rota. I was thinking about it too much, and opened the curtains that he'd kept closed for the whole day.

I had been sat in the centre of his couch for only five minutes when he started banging at the door.

"Rose? Rose? Are you in there?" His words were slurred and his voice practically dragged behind him on the carpet. He was drunk. I opened the door to find him leaning on the frame, no alcohol in hand, but a whole bar in his mouth, in his skin, in his hair. He smiled when he saw me, and cheered as I let him in.

"I knew you were here because the spare key was gone. You always come into my apartment when I'm not here?"

"Of course not. I just, wanted to talk to someone but you're not in any fit state so I'll just go." I grabbed my school bag, but he grabbed my arm, gently, for a drunken person.

"No no no no," He dragged me down onto the couch with him. "I'm fine, really. You can talk to me, what's up?" I looked into Charlie's eyes that swam with unrecognition. I could tell that he was struggling to picture who I was. Deep down, he knew but he saw two separate things, two separate people.

I wondered if, when he was drunk, he could see both me and Rose at the same time.

He squinted, waiting for me to say something, but instead of talking about what I wanted to talk about, instead of talking to him about Liam Litnicky, I stood, and poured him a glass of water.

"There's no need! I'm fine!"But he took it any way, and I couldn't help myself as he gulped the water down but watch his adam's apple bob up and down.

"Do you love her?" I caught myself saying, the words flying out like I had no control. I searched my mind for Rose, but she was nowhere to be found; it was all me. Charlie finished the last drop of water, already seeming to sober up apart from the gentle swaying of his body. He stared at me with glass eyes, the corners of his mouth turning downward.

"I miss her."

"That's not the same."

"Alright," He laughed. "I miss loving her. The Rose in your head is not like the Rose I loved. We talk about things but she talks like she doesn't really know, because I guess you don't really know." Charlie was right. I'd never met him, and Rose didn't like to divulge much about them. "But I humour her," He said, finishing my thoughts. "She's sweet, but..." Charlie's eyes began to droop, a wave of tiredness washing over him.

"But what?" I asked quietly, as his body sagged slightly, and he rested his head on my shoulder.

"But I'm glad it was you that came over, not her...I wanted it to be you." His voice was soft, gentle, as he slowly lost consciousness. I clicked my fingers, not too close to his ear, but close enough that he jolted slightly, his eyes shooting open.

I laughed, and he smiled too, but only because he thought he was supposed to. He looked up at me from his slouching position on my shoulder, and I began to feel the weight of him, of his strength, of his muscles relaxing when he was around me. I wondered if he was ever this relaxed around Rose, and I knew, in an instant, when he stared suns into my eyes that no, no he didn't.

How could he?

Charlie tilted his head slightly to the side, so that his lips could fit perfectly onto mine if he wanted, and I closed my eyes.

"Daisy! Daisy, I know you're in there!"

My heart leaped into my throat, as the door banged ferociously. It rattled on it's hinges and I didn't know if the sound was in my mind or in real life. It was both; the locked door that kept Rose out, and the locked door that was keeping my father out.

Heyyy! Thank you so much for reading! I love writing this story and I can't believe I'm already at 18 chapters. If you liked it, don't forget to vote and leave a comment. Merry Christmas! x