Unholy Habits (currently being edited)

35

"Your dad? What do you mean?" I stared down at my shaking hands and wished I could smoke a cigarette. I wasn't feeling so good.
"He hits me a lot. We get into these goddamn fights-I'm a smart ass, I know. But it's something he's done forever." Her eyes flicked to me, I could feel them burning into my goddamn skin.
"What? Your dad...he-he abuses you?" I shuddered at the word and then rolled my neck around in real agitation.
"I guess that's the proper words." I answered weakly.
"Oh my god...why haven't you-we have to tell someone!" I gripped her wrist and shook my head at her.
"No we can't."
"You can't let fear bind you-"
"It isn't fear. It's this moral thing inside of me. It's like-" I looked down and squeezed my eyes shut again. "It's like I don't know how to live with myself, ruining another persons life. Even if he doesn't even deserve life." She was looking down at the tissues in her hands, folding it habitually.
"But, if he hurts you-"
"It's complicated. I love him even though I hate him. I guess that's how I feel about life too. See, January 3rd 2016-that third ring on my arm-" I ran a hand through my hair and rocked back and forth on the edge of her bed. "I plan to kill myself then. I said if I didn't die of lung cancer by then, then I would fucking kill my self." She stiffened beside me "Lenore," I turned to her and sniffed before I started to cry. "I'm a bad person. I'm a real asshole, you know this." I explained. "But, you have to know that there's more to me too. Just like there's more to you. You're not just a Harvard priss. Deep down I bet you don't even really want to go to fucking Harvard. But that's not the point. The point is," I looked down, taking a deep breath. "I'm real broken, I must admit. When you asked me to tell you how I felt-I...I didn't know how to respond because I don't talk about things. I'm used to taking the beating, smoking some weed, waking up, and repeating those steps. Weed and alcohol and swearing and my friends-it's all these protective layers, I guess. See, I'm real thoughtful, I'm real deep. I recognize my very own protective layers. I recognize yours, and everyone else's too." I wiped a tear away and rubbed my eyes with my index finger and thumb. "I don't know what I'm doing, I'm sorry. I'm trying to make up for not talking to you yesterday, but I really don't even know how to." She touched my shoulder and I flinched. But then I relaxed because I knew she wasn't going to hurt me.
"Relax." She whispered. "It's okay." I sucked in my lip and tilted my head back and looked up at her ceiling.
"I like you Lenore. I do. You're smart, and thoughtful, and secretly sexy, and modest, and innocent, but not that innocent. And you like to prove everyone wrong, even me, and you looked really amazing dancing. You looked wild and free. And you have hair that reminds me of a sunset, and you just remind me of a sunset. You've got bright eyes and glowing skin and fiery hair and you're really easy to read and you need someone, and I like to pretend that person is me. Because I've always wanted to be a life saver and I pretend that I'm saving your life or something even if I'm making it more annoying. I guess I think you're really hot when you're annoyed, and I like the way your eyes get dark and thin like razor blades and they cut right through me and you make me feel some kind of way I've never felt before. I'll tell you everything, if you let me stay a while, I promise to tell you everything." I was crying now and I didn't even know why. She rested my head on her chest and caressed my hair. She pulled us down into a laying position and stroked my hair softly with her fingers. "I like you Lenore. I do, I really do."
"I like you too, Gabe."

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He ignored what I'd said about liking him, and instead carried on talking. He was a real wreck and it was so strange to see him like that.
"My best friend Jack died of a heroin overdose. He was my best friend in the whole wide world right next to my brother. They were my two favorite people in the whole goddamn filthy world. I used to be a real Christian, praying all the time, asking God to keep me pure and shit. But after my brother died, I just gave up on God. I mean how could he let two of the best people in the world rot away? And they were so young. Jack was only fucking fifteen. And you know something? He made friends with this little shit named Kenneth and I think ol Ken might've killed himself too. I don't know why, but he disappeared from school after a month. And Jack's death really hit him hard. I don't know why, but I don't think he's around anymore. There's so much shit in this world. And it begins to make me so sick that suddenly I don't want to be here anymore. All I do is run, Lenore. I like to run away from feelings, from pain, from tragedies, from you. I pretend it's unrelated, non existent. I make myself be numb, even if I'm not that numb." He squeezed his eyes as tears continued to flow down and collect on my shirt.
"I thought Jack was going to make it to the NBA where he belonged. And my brother? He was going to be a computer technician, he was real smart. But the nicest too, always opening doors for girls and pushing their seats in and fucking never kissing them on a first date. He never did anything with a girl apart from kissing her. But he moved real slow, he liked to do that. Live slow. And Jack? He used to save everyone. If there was an unfair fight, or one in general, he jumped in and broke it up or helped the losing fucker. Even if they deserved it, he was always saving people. I always wanted to be like that." He kicked his shoes off and curled his legs up closer to me, really holding me tight.
"My dad was in the army and he beat us and my mom all the time. She left us when I was only nine and she never looked back. I hated her forever for that, I still do. She left us with that fucking creep. He is a creep Lenore, I never want you around my dad, ever. He fucks under aged prostitutes, watches really sick and twisted porn, and stares little girls down hard and long. He once sat at a park bench watching this group of eighth graders talking and laughing. I sat with him, I told him if he ever hurt a little girl I'd kill him. But he just brought me home and messed me up real bad. I'm afraid he will hurt a little girl one day. But he's a trucker, I don't know what he does when he's on the road-I don't want to know. But he leaves me home alone a lot, I'm grateful and not, all at the same time. I get lonely." He sniffled and ran a hand through his hair hard, like he was trying to rid himself of everything. He seemed real agitated and vulnerable. So unlike the him I'd always seen.
"I'm a painter and drawer and I like working on cars and I can play the bass and a little bit of guitar and I always wanted to be a singer, but I think I suck. And my friends like metal, so my singing isn't ever utilized. Some Indie shit is my guilty pleasure, and I like to jam by myself sometimes. We all had a band once and we were goddamn good. But we stopped when my brother died. They wanted to continue, but I just couldn't. And no one else they know plays bass so it all fell apart. And I want to fix your car for you or build you a new one so you can look even more hot driving. Because you really do. And I used to be real good and smart in school and I used to play sports. But I gave up everything. I could've had a real good scholarship for basketball, but I quit last season. I'm a goddamn whizz at basketball. And I like watching Perks Of Being A Wallflower because I relate to that fuck deeply. And I've never had sex, I like to pretend I have, and I used to like girls-watching them, fantasizing about them, making them get real hot and bothered for me. But then I met you and I can't stop thinking about you, watching you, fantasizing about you, making you get all hot and bothered when I talk in my low voice or am shirtless. I even took that poster down because it started to bother me." He was holding me even closer, slipping his arm under my back and wrapping it around my waist. He had my legs held captive in his own, and his face was aimed downward, his head still buried in my chest. Though, he wasn't crying as much. It made me feel better that he wasn't crying, and it was real interesting hearing him rant about his life story. Gabe's life story, it certainly was something.
"I took a picture of you sleeping and sent it to Alec to make him jealous and he showed my friends. And I started to feel fucking bad, and I regret that. It was real creepy and fucked I know, but I'm a goddamn asshole and I, in some unique way, wanted to claim you before any of them tried to. And I sabotaged your waiter action on purpose because it bothered me that he was trying to talk to you. I guess I was jealous and didn't know it at the time." He cleared his throat and then stayed silent for a long while. "That's everything, Lenore. Everything."
I laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling and running my fingers through his thick, messy hair. I was trying to let everything sink in. I didn't know how his all had happened, and I felt real strange. I wiped my nose with my tissue with my free hand. And then I tossed it behind me and in the garbage bag. I flipped some loose strands of hair out of my face and exhaled deeply because I felt short of breath. I could feel the fluid in my lungs and it drove me wild with every breath I took. "Are you going to say something?" He whispered.
"Yes." I answered. He waited expectantly. "I just think you're going to have to stay here with me." I explained and wrapped my arms around him. He wrapped his arms tighter around me. "Come over here, lay down." He took his coat off and then slipped under the blankets with me. We laid there, holding each other. "Just know that if you ever need to get away, come to me, come here, okay?" He nodded, eyes still closed.
"Thank you, Lenore. I'm really sorry, for being so mean, or hurting your feelings ever." He said it real soft. "I'm not good with feelings, especially unfamiliar ones that confuse me and make me feel so goddamn strange." I smiled a small smile and rested my cheek on the top of his hair.
"I'm no good with feelings either."