No One But Myself

PART ONE-8

                 Daniel's house caught fire when he was a sophomore in high school. It was widespread, all over the news, all over the halls of school, not one being that resided here could have been oblivious to the fact that it had, unfortunately, and devastatingly, happened. He lost everything, including his mother, and didn't speak of it much, not even now. Once we reach his shaggy mobile home nesting in the woods, I follow him in without uttering a word, bag poised over my shoulder, mind screaming thoughts I don't speak. It feels as if it's been years since I've been here and now that I think about it, it has been. Somehow, time has managed to slip away from me.

               "Make yourself at home," Daniel says. as he switches on an old and battered coffee maker. "because, well, it is now." his gestures toward a sunken couch to set my bag upon and I do without a second thought, sitting down next to it as I take in the moment to glance around at my surroundings. Small doesn't begin to explain the size of the place, and its neatness is questionable. Clothes and clutter are strewn haphazardly here and there, dust dances across the small coffee table across from me, and I can't help but feel a tad out of place.

"You really don't have to do this." I start, picking at my fingers nails, something I found myself doing more than I would like to lately. I spoke these words without thinking, and suddenly worried if maybe I sounded rude. I was speaking truth, nonetheless, so I looked up to search his face for whatever followed suit.

"As I said, and will remain to say, I'm aware." He flashes a smile I'm sure girls find charming. "But, I am. So stop fighting me on it."

I don't say anything else. There's nothing more that I can say except a hushed "thanks" as I think about just what it is I'm going to do with my life now. I can't help but think how my father feels, but dismiss the thought just as quickly when I realize he most likely isn't the least but fazed by my dissipation.

The strap on my bag becomes interesting for the next few minutes, until the coffee pot rattles and gives its last puff before signaling his coffee is done. He gets up remotely fast, turning to glance at me as he pours himself a mug full. "Want some?" There goes his smile again, accompanied by tipping of the chipped green mug and an arched brow.

My stomach doesn't feel like coffee is suitable, but for whatever reason I agree anyhow. Before I know it, he's sitting next to me and hanging me a mug quite smaller than his. I guess he can semi take a hint. I smile a tad, but not too much.
Everything's different now.

         "I care about you." his voice breaks the silence I hadn't noticed had formed. "you see that, right?"

         I speak past a lump in my throat. "yeah" I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and take a minuscule sip of coffee. It burns, but I swallow anyway. "I know."

          More silence followed by the repetitive ticking of the clock I eye on the wall. I watch the hand dance, and wonder how my life got so fucked up. Daniel shifts next to me, and I break my gaze away.

"I wanted to kill him." he looks at me with eyes that confirm his words, eyes swarming with raw emotion. "I did. I really fucking did. The fact he thinks that's okay, a way to fucking cope or whatever is in his mind that he uses as an excuse... it makes me fucking sick." he shakes his head and sets his coffee down to run his hands through his hair, something I remember he does when he's indignant.

"I know" is all I can manage, and my voice sounds microscopic.

"You're here now." he puts his arms around me and pulls me close enough to where I can feel the steady beat of his heart. As comforting as it's meant to be, I'm uncertain at the act of somewhat affection. "And I'm not letting you leave." there's something unfamiliar in his voice, but I choose to ignore it and rest into his chest, letting out a small sigh. Before I know it, I'm somehow asleep, and everything weighing heavy on my mind, dissipates with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What the fuck, Sam." the disapproval is blatantly obvious in Lena's voice, not that it affects my decision in the slightest. I start to question whether or not calling her was wise, but nothing I've done lately has exactly fallen under that category. "Home schooling? Do you really think you can handle that?" She sounds as incredulous as I imagined she'd be. "Especially living with Daniel, like what the fuck are you doing?"
I almost laugh. What an amazing question that I happened to be asking myself. What exactly was I doing? The past few days were a blur and I found myself struggling to grasp a suitable answer to offer her.
"You do you, Sam." She says finally when I hesitate for too long. "I'm glad you're away from your dad and I'm glad you're living with Dan, and I'm not the one to grill you on life choices or whatever, but just.. I don't know, be careful? Smart? Don't do anything you're gonna regret later, ya know?"