An Aftermath Of Many Years (CrankGameplays)

1

1st November 2016

I sat there, editing my first real assessment of the year. A group task to make a three minute short about something impactful in your life. It sounded shit on paper, and now, as I spent my three am stringing together the little bits, I still agreed with that opinion. Not just because it was my life we were grasping from. It was my group and the timeline and the script. My job was only to get the script and edit after. I got a partial input in directing, but nothing much. It was about my life and I had barely any input. Just pushed aside, almost. A pawn in the works.

I looked at Jenny through the screen. She was crying, but it didn't look real. She wasn't an actress no matter how hard she tried to be. She was only useful for writing scripts and helping edit. Yet she was in an acting program and loving every second of it. I contemplated calling her, have her just talk to me. She wasn't home, but we always talked when things got rough. I sighed and tucked my legs up onto the computer chair, a black leather 'executives' chair that we got off Amazon a few months ago. Before that, we had been using one of Mark's old dining chairs.

"Kiara?" I looked up at the feminine voice that slid through the front door of our aparment. Jenny. Same one as on the screen. She had her heels in one hand and was holding the brass door handle with the other. The girl was letting in the cool air from the stairwell and making a chill dance around my exposed shoulders. "You're still up?"

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled, pulling off my headphones and giving the girl a shy smile. "I just don't know how I feel about this thing."

She most likely didn't understand, and even though that was fine, it pulled me slightly. She had an idea in her head and sometimes the things I said didn't correlate with the things she thought.

"What's wrong with it?" She came and leant against the wall near me. "The script? The acting? I'm fine if it's the acting."

"Nevermind. I'm almost done anyway."

She seemed apprehensive about my tone but shrugged it off. "Well, make sure to get some rest. Aren't you helping your brother tomorrow?"

I had honestly forgotten about it, and by the look on my face, Jenny could tell. She laughed and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. The girl was a heartwarmer at best and could keep that warmth forever. She never seemed down or even slightly out of it and, even though I didn't want to, I did come to her for most things. She was good at giving advice but bad at taking it on.

I sighed and slid my headphones back on, intent on getting the editing finished, despite that it wouldn't take all that long. It should've been done by now if my head weren't being the way it was. My body ached and my head spun, but that was partly what the medication was for. Mostly for the mental everything that could pin me to the ground.

I didn't have depression. I didn't have anxiety. The antidepressants were only for seasonal use, but the anti-anxiety medications were daily. But I didn't have depression and I didn't have anxiety.

Mark and Tom watched my downfall from a distance. I went through high-school missing a week or two a month and I would've been repeating if it weren't for Mark specifically. I felt like he thought he was responsible for me and I never wanted him to feel that way. But without him, I would've dropped out. In senior year, when I was finally diagnosed, everything seemed to make sense. I studied at home to catch up and ended up getting accepted into two different colleges.

Mark, when I told him, offered to make me a deal. I wanted to go to college in New York, but Mark offered to pay for me to go here. I didn't know how to feel at the time.

"Hey, I know you're leaning more towards NY than LA, but I'm offering you a job. I wanna make a deal. If you move here, I'll pay for your tuition as long as you can help me with some things when I need your help."

I didn't respond at first, but now, as I came close to the end of my first semester, I couldn't say it was a bad decision. I had made some crazy friends and some even crazier memories.

I watched the screen as the exporting bar rolled forward incredibly slowly. My brown eyes were burning from the darkness of the rest of the room and my body threatened me with groans and the heaviness of my eyes, but the pills made me restless. A stupid restless that was 'make a sandwich and not eat it' and I wasn't one to feel good about it. My eyes looked around at the light coming from under the bathroom door. The shower was running. I leant back and stared at the ceiling. There was a coldness to it that I hated. Like a shitty snow machine had blasted it, and now it was just cold for eternity.

I sighed. My phone was vibrating. It was three am and the call could wait. I listened to it ring out. It was on silent, but the vibrating against the wooden desk was burning into the back of my mind. The call ended and a message buzzed through my phone. I restrained myself from turning it over.

It rang again and my distaste for the sound made me answer.

"What?" My tone was almost pissed and the grumble in the back of my brain made me feel hurt.

"Wow, you're happy," Mark joked through his end of the line. I wasn't in the mood for a joke. "Nevermind. Not a good time?"

"It's fine. I'm not doing anything."

"I just wanted to ask how you were. Is everything going alright?"

"Yeah. Everything's really good."