Pulse

15

At home I burst through the front door. I empty the contents of my backpack on the floor and grab my pack of cigarettes with my shaking hands. I light on and inhale the vile smoke, breathing it in as if its the last source of oxygen left on this planet. My phone is ringing and its mike, but I don't answer it and the rattling in my head hasn't quieted. Instead it has simmered to a loud and demanding tone that makes my knees weak and vision blurry. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Mrs Kathy's phone number. The line rings once... Three times.. eight times.. Then comes to a stop to allow her voicemail to answer. I hang up and dial again. Anxiousness sweeps over me as I wait for the old woman to answer.

Why? Gonna pop some more pills?

"Hello?" Her voice is raspy. This woman has always been really sweet. I've known her my entire life. She used to baby sit me and sarah, for free surprisingly.

We would come in from playing outside, sweat covering our faces and mud covering out matching clothes. Mrs Kathy always had sandwiches ready with apple juice, back when she was more mobile. She would wipe the dried dirt off our faces and smile while asking us questions like 'did you dig up any dinosaur bones' and we would giggle while showing off the oddly shapened rocks we would find buried not to far down in her huge backyard. It wasn't just a backyard to us. It was a kingdom filled with possibility. It was a giant blanket of thick green grass and a beautiful garden lined with sunflowers.
Our parent's were never home. Mrs Kathy's house was our 'home away from home'.

"Austin? Hello?" Mrs Kathy's voice rattles through the phone line. I take a deep breath, and puff on the cancer stick filled with nicotine that will probably fuck me up someday.

"Mrs kathy? Are you home?" I ask. What a stupid question... This is her landline number.

"Well I would guess so," She answers with a tone of sarcasm that isn't mean. Just good fun.

"i just wanted to say I'll be there in thirty minutes to clean your house." I say evenly. My voice sound dry.

"Oh my..." Mrs Kathy remarks. "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow?"

I cough from the harsh smoke. Clearing my throat, I close my eyes and think of a decent excuse for why i would be coming a day early to clean her house.

"I- I have a date tomorrow. I need... I need to come early." I manage to choke out. The words threaten to stay in my throat.

"oooooh how Wonderful!" She exclaims. "What's the lucky boys name??"

My eyes widen. Why the hell does she want to know?

"Um.. Mike." I stutter. Fuck. Great. Now I'm a thief and a liar.

Mrs Kathy makes a few more comment's about how proud she is of me, and a little bit about my grandmother wondering how I've been.

Of course.

Finally the phone call ends. I've managed to even out my breathing. The missed phone calls from mike show on my phone but I feel no need or want to call him back. I do text him, however.

Me: I'm okay. Can't talk.

Mike: I don't believe you.

Me: you don't have to...

Mike: good, you're a terrible liar.

I roll my eyes and turn my phone off, not wanting to deal with stupid Mike's smooth come-backs.

Then take off his fucking hoodie.

****

Seroquel. Seroquel. Seroquel. The name of the medication is so weird.

it's what they give to Schizo's.

Pouring through the innocent woman's bathroom cabinet, I opt into taking an entire bottle.

I'm not just a voice.

I read the labels on the other medications, along with their side effects. Heart burn, nausea, fatigue, depression, loss of appetite, mood swings, hot flashes, death. Don't take if you are pregnant. Ask a doctor before taking. Don't take more than two.
I grab a bottle of ibuprofen while I'm at it.
A knock on the bathroom door sends me into a panic
So I shove the bottles into the big hoodie pocket and shut the cabinet before I resume washing the mirror with a bottle of windex and paper towels. The blurred image staring back at me appears faded because of the dripping water.

Mrs. kathy opens the bathroom door and looks at me with her old eyes. Wrinkles have formed along her forehead and cheeks. Smile lines, crows feet by her eyes. Marks that symbolize a full life.

"Are you almost finished?" She asks, gasping for air between words. See, Mrs Kathy was a big time smoker growing up. Her lungs have long since been filled with tar. I shudder at the idea of myself having the same voice.

"Y- yeah..." I reply, drying off the last drops of water from the mirror. I avoid looking at my reflection.

You are just a different version of me. If it weren't for my scar, you would be my duplicate.

Mrs. Kathy nods and leans on her walker as I gather my items and get ready to leave.
I'm about to walk out of the bathroom when she grabs my arm with her bony fingers. In her other hand is a check. she holds out my hand and places the valuable slip of paper in my palm, smiling an old crinkly smile.

"This is a hundred dollars, Austin. You've done a lot of work volunteering for me."

My eyes widen at the sight of what I'm holding. Then I think back to the pills in my pocket. Looking away, I swallow the lump that's forming in my throat. I mutter an almost silent 'thank you' Before pulling my arm softly away from her light grip. I feel her eyes on my back as I leave, and the guilt building in my chest threatens to spill out into the open so I get to my car as fast as I Possibly can.

Druggy

****

You were rambling on and on, rage obviously your motivation. I couldn't understand a single word you were saying but I was fed up with your behavior. The constant distancing from everyone around you. The partying. The boys. Within a series of 9 months you had gone completely downhill. Your grades were no longer perfect and therefore mom and dad momentarily hated you. Alcohol became your best friend and at school you acted like I was a stranger. You threw a bottle across the room, and it shattered against the wall closest to my bed. Our room was split in half, because you know... Twins share everything. Your lipstick was smeared... God it was so smeared. You were the school slut. After all... everyone saw that video of you having sex with Miranda's boyfriend.

****

My parents still aren't home.

After I arrive at my house, I pop a few of the Seroquel pills into my mouth and swallow them dry. I lay down on the living room couch, despite the mess around me. I really should clean up my parents trash.
I'm tired, and my heavy eye lids threaten to close completely as I stair at the ceiling. I allow a numb haze to wash over me as I breath in and out, listening to the sounds of my broken home creaking. It's weird how everything seems louder when you are by yourself.

****

AUTHORS NOTE: HEYYYYYY everyone! Im so happy to be posting chapter fifteen finally! Im so sorry if the chapters have seemed a bit shorter lately! I feel like the book is really progressing! Anyways, I hope you all like it :D feel free to add some constructive criticism in the comments section!!! If there's a part you like, please tell me so i can add more parts like it!

Anyways, see y'all in about a week with chapter sixteen ;)

~SparklyKitten15