It Needs a Name

Chapter 16

"Well, Jamie, this was my guest room. But now, it's all yours. You can decorate it however you'd like, I want you to feel at home here." Daphnie stands in the doorway of one of the two upstairs bedrooms in her candy-colored house. When I say candy-colored I mean fucking candy colored house. 

Her living room was painted the color of a cherry Laffy Taffy, her furniture was mismatched, old, and worn. She said it gave the place character, a lived-in feeling. Her kitchen was orange, her hallway a deep shade of purple. Let's just say that every room was a shade of pastel, making me think I was trapped in an Easter egg. I never liked Easter much.

I looked around the room, a baby blue color - like a fucking tampon box - a big window that overlooked the lawn. There was a desk under the window, with a small lamp. To the right of the desk, stood a twin bed, clean, pressed sheets. I wanted to bury myself in those sheets, the matress looked like it was made of clouds, and the room was warm. It made me fucking tired, and I never got much sleep at the institute.

I carried my bags to my bed, setting them down, taking a seat in the old, cranky chair. I looked at all of my things, the new space I was occupying, and something inside me began to hurt. Ache, burn. I was betraying her, ripping her apart, shaking up with someone else while she was...where ever she was. I couldn't fucking do this to her. I couldn't, wouldn't make this place my home. I had a home, a home with my mother, and a room that was painted a decent fucking color. 

  "Well, I'm going to start dinner, you go ahead and put your things away. I'll get you when the food is ready." Daphnie stomped down the stairs, off to create some Willy Wanka worthy creation. 

Acid and anger bubbled up into my throat, burning my tongue and teeth into burned, ruined masses that were clogging my throat. My fingers danced to my stitches, pulling and ripping, trying to open myself up again so I could bleed out this acid. This burning and rage. Before if fucking ripped me apart and pasted my skin on the tampax walls. There's wallpaper for you..

 INhuman growing, squaling ripped out of me. Cracking the window, peelling the paint. My rage, self-hate and anger shook the house, the roof cracked and crumbled. The foundation is shaken loose and the entire house jumps under my wrath. 

I could move mountains now. Create worlds. But I don't want to create. I only want to destroy. Like he destroyed my fucking life, like how he left my mother all alone. Left me there in an ocean of fire and knives without so much as a reason why. Like how he took everything that was good in me and turned it all into demons that were driving me insane. He took my hope, he took my innocence,  he took everything I had to give, leaving me an empty shell and he didn't even care.

And now, I couldn't even be near my mother to hold her together. She'd die without me, I was sure of that. Go off the deep end. Crawl into a bottle and never, ever come out. She probably thought I'd left her, skipped off into the sunset with her BFF, never giving her a second thought. I couldn't leave her with those ideas. They'd chew a hole in her so big that nothing could fill it. Not even all the booze in the fucking world.

She had to know I was waiting for her. That I still loved her and that I hadn't left. That at least one of the people she needed wasn't going to vanish. I wasn't like him. I was going to stay and take care of her, make things better. Make our lives what they once were. I was going to fix everything.