Masks (boyxboy)

27. Aftermath

Edward

I can't really understand how everything got so cold. I can't tell if the window has sprung open or if my heart has finally given up on trying to push blood through my veins, because what is the point really? What is the point of keeping yourself warm when people are going to just keep pouring coldness all over you?

I sit here frozen, unable to even twitch as I continue to listen to a voice that once upon a time used bring me warmth.

"I started getting those boxes a while ago," Lucas whispers, "I haven't been able to bring myself to open them all, but one appears every day on my bed and as far as I know, they contain bits and pieces from those twelve hours, from the first party we went to, to the warehouse. I thought Blair was the one bringing them because she has the only key to my room, but she has been getting them too."

I remain frozen.

"Amanda came a few weeks ago." He whispers. My brain faintly registers the acute pain in his voice. "She got pregnant that day Eddy."

Am I dead? Is this what it feels like to die? What if when you die, your body stops moving but your consciousness keeps going? And you spend eternity drowning in your own thoughts as you slowly go insane but no one cares because you're dead? Is this it?

"She arrived in such a mess," Lucas chokes, "She's pregnant and she says it's mine and I'm freaking out Eddy, I really am. I think she's the one delivering the boxes. She has become so manipulative and crazy and I don't know if she's just scared or if someone sent her to blackmail us. I just don't know." 

He sits there waiting for me to speak. I can't.
How could you? I want to ask. How could you do this to me?  Though deep down I know he didn't do it to hurt me, it feels like it. It feels like all of this is to hurt me.

No more, Eddy.

I take in a deep breath. No more feeling sorry for yourself, poor little Eddy that broke down every day has to go.

"Talk to me." He sobs. My muscles unfreeze at the hurt in his voice and i'm able to turn my head and look away. I push back the tears that brim my eyes. There will be no more crying here. No more weak Eddy that gets his heart broken. No more hurting. 

He's still sitting on the couch, his body angled to face me, but my new found coldness keeps him from touching me.

This is how it feels to put on a mask isn't it? To refuse to show how much it hurts inside because people don't deserve to know.

I make my legs stretch and I stand, walking heavily towards his bed, I keep my back to Lucas and begin to examine every single box. I take out the items and throw the boxes over my shoulder.

A piece of the tablecloth, stained with red wine, because Lucas is a drunk.

A cigar butt, taken from the smoking room where Lucas dealt drugs, because he doesn't care about ruining his life.

A piece of paper with a hospital logo and the letters DEATH printed beside it, because he doesn't care about other people's lives.

A lacy thong, because he just can't keep it in his pants.

Ashes, which I dump on his bed before disposing of the box, I don't want to know why.

Blond hair, because he's a murderer. Pieces of blood stained jeans.

A photograph of Lucas having sex with Amanda, because he's a cheater.

I stop.

I stare at the picture. My skin itches.