Little Do You Know: Jaspar (boyxboy)

2.5 » Breaking Into My Own House

Caspar's POV

The next morning, I woke up bright and early and left Oli's. I know he wanted to talk to me, and considering last night's events, I wanted to talk to him too. But I just couldn't bring myself to explain everything to him.

So I fled.

I was wondering around the streets of London for a while. I ended up going back home because A) I knew where it was, and B) I was cold. I knew I had clothes there, and I needed to change.

When I got at my doorstep, I searched my pockets for my keys. When I realized I forgot my keys at Oli's, I made a bad decision. I broke into my own house.

I know I left my window open, because I never lock it. I went looking for a ladder. I searched every inch of our outdoor property. We didn't have one outside.

That's when I realized I had to jump. I walked around in circles for a second, trying to think of another way to break into my own house. I realized there was no other way.

I walked back, so I could get a running start. I took my mark, like how people do at track meets. I pretended a gun went off, and I started sprinting. When I saw the window, I jumped. I was able to grip the window, but I second guessed myself and I lost the grip. I fell down the wall in, what felt like, slow motion. I flared my arms, and kicked my legs. But I ended up hitting the ground. My legs and arms felt really sore.

I looked down at my jeans, and they were ripped and blood was seeping through the rips. I tried to wipe the blood off with my bare arms, but my arms were bleeding, too. Now I needed a hoodie and a first aid kit.

I inhale sharply, and take a few steps back again. I start sprinting for the second time, and this time I put more force and speed into my steps. I jump with all my might, and grip the window. I keep my grip, and lift myself into my room.

I smile to myself, and search for my first aid kit. I may have gotten through the window, but I still have cuts on my legs and arms. I most likely got blood on my white windowsill, but that's a problem for a different day.

Last I remember, the kit was in Joe's room. I walk out of my room and into Joe's room. Once I enter, I inhale deeply. I can't help but feel pain as I see all of his things. Why does it feel like Joe is dead? He is still alive, he's just at the hospital.

Shit!

I forgot about Joe. How could I have possibly forgotten about Joe? What the fuck is wrong with me? This is really who I've become? What the hell?

No, now's not the time for thinking. I take my pants off, so I can look at these cuts better. After I struggle to get the jeans off, I stare at my legs. Blood is dripping everywhere.

I take out a washcloth and wet it with water from the sink. I wipe the crimson blood off my soft skin. I stare at the blood-soaked washcloth and the tiny cuts all over my legs.

I get lost in my thoughts, once again. My brain drifted from the blood to Joe then to my hate page, then to Alice. My life has become a mess.

I feel the tears well up in my eyes, and I blink them away. I'm so sick of crying.

I focus all my attention to the burning pain in my arm. The cuts on my arm were deeper and bloodier than the ones on my legs.

I repeat the process of cleaning off my arm. This time, I wrap the cuts up with gauze. I don't want them to get infected or anybody see them.

I go back to Joe's room, put the kit away, and slip into his clothes. He has a pair of my sweatpants in his room, so I put those on. I sift through his drawers, and find a baggy sweatshirt of his to wear. I slip that over my head and walk out of his room.