Alone With Ross

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September 11, 2011

Every radio station, channel, magazine, and news paper are screaming the news about the 10 year anniversary of 9/11. Its quite depressing if you ask me.

These 3 1/2 days have been uneventful, other than the fact the Ross doesn't annoy me.

He pisses me off!

Any chance he gets, he starts pushing buttons. The other day he tried to grab my journal from my hands. That resulted in him having a hurting manhood and a bruise on his left bicep. He later on complained about it to Vi saying I attacked him for no reason. She knew he was bullshitting her, but she made us both wash the dishes. But I ended up drenched in water cause' of Ross.

As of right now I was painting my toenails red while Ross had to go dump the trash. Good.

I start humming an old tune I once heard my mother sing. I was like six.

"You're just too good to be true... Can't take my eyes off of you oh"

My eyes start to prickle at the memory. I lay back on my bed and let my feet dangle down. I try to take some deep breaths to clam myself, but its not working. I roll over and stuff my face in my mattress hoping to suffocate myself. My chest is heaving and my eyes are begging me to release my sorrow, but I mustn't let go of the last gleam of hope that my mother will be healed and come back here to give me all of the unconditional love and to sing that song for me over and over until I get tired of hearing it.

I squeezed my eyes tight, trying. But when I exhaled, my foundation of hope crumbled. All hell in my body broke loose. Mentally I was thrashing and breaking everything in the room and screaming at the top of my lungs. But physically I was still faced down on the mattress trying to kill myself. I rolled back over and took a deep breath. I stood to go to the mirror to see myself.

What I saw wasn't myself. This girl's eyes were dead but still brimming with unwanted tears. Her hair was slightly out of its ponytail. I reached up to touch my face. To see if that girl was me. It was very disappointing to feel my flesh. I was the broken girl. I squeeze my eyes tightly again, trying to revive myself.

"You're just too good to be true... Can't take my eyes off of you oh"

I snap my eyes open, I'm no longer facing my reflection. I was facing my mother. She kept singing that same line over and over, like a broken record. But it wasn't that beautiful voice I remembered, it was eerie and slower. I put my hands over my ears but I can still hear her, no it, loud and clear.

"Stop." She smiles at me as her voice is getting louder. "Stop!" She continues to sing reaching her hand through the mirror. "STOP IT!"

I bring my fists forward crashing the mirror. The song stops and my mother disappeared along with the shattered pieces of Ross' mirror.

Shit I broke Ross's mirror.

I look down at my bloodied hands that are dripping on my clothes. I lean against the dresser and slowly go down to the floor bringing my knees to my chest, which is still looking for a relief of tears. I put my head on my arms and finally let go of my sorrow. The sorrow of my parents leaving me to go to Jamaica, the sorrow of losing my father and not being able to attend a funeral or any goodbye. The sorrow of my mother only contacting me 13 times. The sorrow of my Aunt who couldn't at least try harder for me. The sorrow of finally realising my mother is going to die, and yet again I'm not going to be able to say goodbye. The sorrow of being at Bumpy Roads, with Ross.

"Hey I was wondering if - What the fuck?" I look up to see Ross standing in the doorway. He quickly stepped in and shut the door behind him. He stepped towards me slowly as if I were an animal about to attack. He sat cross legged on the floor right across from me.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to go into town to pick up some stuff with me, but I can see your not in the mood to go out." He talks quietly trying to crack a joke. I put my head back into my arms sniffling. I hear shuffling and I look up to see that Ross is sitting closer to me. He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.

I couldn't help but wrap my arms around his neck. I buried my face in his shoulder. I need somebody right now, and if it happens to be Ross, so be it.

"She's going to die, I know it." I mumble into his neck.

"Who's going to die?" He rubs my back a little trying to console me.

"My mother." He holds onto me tighter but pulls back to look at my face.

"Do you think you're mother was a good person?" I nod my head. Ross wipes under my eyes and the corners of them. "Then you have nothing to worry about." He grabs my hand, but my breath hitches. He looks down to see the slashes on my knuckles.

"I'm sorry I broke your mirror." He shakes his head chuckling.

" I'm not the one who has seven years of bad luck plus murdered hands! Come on, I'll clean you up." Ross helps me stand to my feet and sneaks me over to the bathroom down the hall. He actually picks me up and puts me on the counter. I frowned slightly because I don't like being lifted. Ross gets wraps, hydrogen peroxide and that neosporn crap. He grabs the hydrogen bottle and pours some on a rag. Then looks me in the eyes.

"Its going to sting." I nodded my head and bit the inside of my cheek. Once Ross placed the rag on my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned forward and put my forehead on Ross' arm. It stung like a bitch. After he did that to both hands, he applied neosporn to all my cuts with a cotton swab. Then he grabbed the wraps and wrapped my hands with skilled fingers.

"Why are you so good at this?" He looked up at me under his lashes.

"Let me put it this way: That wasn't my first mirror." I nodded my head, trying to picture Ross getting so angry or upset. He doesn't seem like a mirror basher. He's just so, chill.

Once Dr.Lynch was finished with my hands I hopped off the counter and looked down at my grey(Now with red dots) Dino and the Belmonts shirt. My jeans weren't as bad, but there was no saving this shirt. I sighed as I slipped it off, only leaving me in a red tank top. Ross noticed my shirt.

"Well its a good thing Dino and the Belmonts suck right?" I scowl at him.

"Respect the classics man." My eyes go a little wide when I see that Ross' white shirt has my bloody hand prints. Ross also looked down and groaned. Without hesitation he just took his shirt off and strolled down the hall into our room.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Within Caspian's grief, and Ross' healing powers, they are at good terms right now.

Caspian and Ross don't hate each other yet. They're going to be pretty on and off with the Love/Hate relationship. But bare with me through this complicated journey that is Rospian...

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love,

Aliah♥