The last tear

Chapter 2

My arms were pounding in pain and my legs were cramping as I carried my stuff up two flights of stairs. I thought I was in shape. I wasn't skinny by any means, my stomach was slightly rounded but I knew I wasn't fat. Just fluffy. However I was pretty athletic. I spent the first of my teen years running from cops and all sorts of uneducating situations. At this moment it only took about three trips for me to realize how incredibly naive I was. Huffing and puffing I made it up the first set of stairs, resting on the landing while I peeked out the prison window. It held a full view of the back parking lot just like my bedroom window did.

Picking up the microwave sized box I turned around and started up the next flight. It wasn't to heavy, all it held was clothes, since Asher wouldn't let me carry much weight. It was however enough to cause me to break a sweat. Jeeze, i'd really need to start running again. I quit because I hated it. It was so boring going from point A all the way around in a circle, very slowly I might add, just to get back to point A. I'd say it was pointless, but my theory just contained a point A. 

The heavy metal door at the top of the stairs was being held open with a bar stool from his kitchen just enough for me to get through. I left my old, torn converses on the mat in the entrance before stepping a little farther into Asher's house. It was a typical bachelor pad, but he definitely wasn't poor like Alyssa had suspected. He had giant, overstuffed black leather couches surrounding a 72" flat screen TV hanging off the wall. His living room was on the smaller side and was sunken in to make it look bigger. Off to the right a kitchen a little bigger than my room back home connected to the livingroom. Both were totally open making it look like one big room the only cutoff being where the tile and carpet meet just above the stairs. The kitchen walls were a bright red and all the appliances were pure white except for the gray marble countertops. Instead of a table a mini bar sat like an island in the middle of the mayhem with just a random fruitbowl on top of it. It didn't look like the kitchen was used much, if at all and it was very clean, only a few beer bottles stacked up on the main counter near the sink.

I stumbled down a short hallway straight from the door, past four other doors, a bathroom, closet, and two other bedrooms before reaching the last door, the only one that was open. I set my box down with the four other boxes thanking God I didn't have much stuff. After my mom died I'd come into the habit of ruining everything good. My shirts were usually cut horizontally across the stomach and my jeans looked like they'd gotten into a fight with a cheese grater. I constantly wrote with sharpie all over my shoes and sometimes on my clothes. Sharpies seemed to be my best friends and I'd bought a whole keychain of them I kept attached to my belt loop at all times.

There was a lone queen sized bed in the right hand corner and a small white side table. The grey walls annoyed me to a large extent as they screamed so many promises. I was a girl who loved color. Bright neon designs etched through my mind and my fingers itched like crazy to turn them into something i'd be proud of. It'd been nearly a month since I last went tagging and I was starting to feel it like a need for booze by an AA member. I however had nothing holding me back. Tonight, I should sneak out and go wander the town for any sort of alley where I could let my creativity flow. I'd try out my newest design.

 I sat on my bed dragging a heavier box up onto it so I could start putting my stuff away. From what I understand Asher hired a bunch of people to pack up my room, however he left the rest of the house alone. He said he'd pay off the house and it'd always be there for me when I was old enough to live by myself. It sounded like a great deal, only this guy was kind of freaking me out. Maybe I was just a charity case to him, that he'd just happened to notice. That'd be fine and all except I wasn't exactly suffering. I don't mean because I was in a coma, seriously that was just like a long nap, but I meant I wasn't exactly poor or homeless. I had no family, but I would have been put in foster care for the next two years. Sure that doesn't sound pleasant at all, however there are children out there suffering way more than me. Some are homeless, hungry, poor, or all three in one. I was none of these so what exactly motivated Asher to take me to his layer? I had a strong, unpleasant feeling I wasn't going to be getting an answer to that anytime soon.