Monster of Blue

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

     Two hours pass before my anger fades, guilt filling me in its place. Its teeth gnawing at the back of my mind as its talons sink deeper into my heart, holding it in a painful squeeze. I curl tighter into a ball as shame flushes over my face. Those ugly words I had spat at Mitchell replaying in my mind as I try to justify my actions. 

     I was angry. I was scared. I was...I shouldn't have said those things. 

    The blue rose still lies upon my bed, nestled in the sheets. It's luscious petals holding an otherworldly beauty to them, clashing sharply against my white sheets. Frowning I stand and walk over to the flower, picking it up delicately between my forefinger and thumb. An almost sickening sweet smell rises from its center when I press my nose to it, the petals soft against my lips. This...this is just another hallucination right? This can't be real. 

     But, then why could Mitchell see the mushed one downstairs?

     Ignoring my voice of reason, I quickly walk over to my window and lift it up to throw the flower out into the trashcan filled alley. My hands begin to shake as I push the window shut and lock it. Taking a deep breath to clear my mind, I make my over to my door and slowly open it. Mitchell's door is shut and when I don't hear any noise downstairs, I let out a sigh of relief before quietly exiting the room. I don't want to run into Mitchell again quite yet—at least, not unprepared. Luckily, I happen to know his one weakness. 

     Peanut butter cookies. 

     Making my way down the kitchen, I quickly pull out the necessary bowls and utensils before walking over to the pantry. A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I grab the peanut butter. Mitchell has always loved peanut butter sweets. It was the first thing I discovered about him, the single event that allowed us to meet. It had been back in middle school whenever I had signed up for a home ec class.

      Our first assignment after learning the utensils and their names was to bake a batch of brownies with an assigned partner. Mitchell had loomed over everyone in the class, his developing body too skinny and limbs too long. Brown hair had hung in his face over his eyes, and I had looked no less awkward with my baby face and boney hips. 

     I had sent him to gather the necessary ingredients from the pantry in the classroom while I got the bowls and utensils ready to use. But, instead of returning with chocolate for brownies the lanky teen had brought back a jar of peanut butter. When I had pointed out that we were making brownies, Mitchell had calmly replied that we were given a different assignment to make a batch of peanut butter cookies. I hadn't believed him of course, but when the teenager still didn't change his tune I finally decided that he was telling the truth. 

     How naïve and silly of me. 

     I remember how anxious I was, excited for the 'A' I was sure I would get only to have my excitement crushed when the teacher asked where our brownies were. Mitchell hadn't seemed bothered in the least by our lack of a grade and from there the rest is history. 

     I never got anything above a 'C' in that class, thanks to Mitchell being my partner and always lying about what we were to really bake just to feed his own sweet cravings. But, after school we'd always share our successfully made creations and Mitchell would let me keep the leftovers to take home. Even in high school we had continued to bake together, often making a mess at each other's house and getting scolded for not immediately cleaning up after ourselves. 

     Smiling I place all the cookies on a plate before making my way to his door; the sound of loud metal music drifting through his closed door. The kind of music he only plays when angry and upset. Clearing my throat, I lift my hand and rap it lightly on the door.