.08
My apartment is bland compared to Zayn's room. The walls are all white, the floor an ugly colored carpet, and I had little furniture. The kitchen spilled into the living room, which spilled into my room, which spilled into the bathroom. That was it. Nothing else. Also, I lived above a drug dealer, and it always smelled like weed. I couldn't get away from it.
I take a long shower, relieving my body of the stench of alcohol and sweat. I had just gotten back from Zayn's, slipping out of his house before he woke up. I couldn't stand the embarrassment bestowed upon me from the night before. The events, our talk, everything. I had to be alone.
I put on a pair of ripped sweatpants and a purple hoody. Today was a Netflix day.
As I'm changing, I glance at the picture of Annie on my dresser. It was a picture I took of her, in her old bedroom. We were fooling around, doing nothing in particular. Annie's reading a book called Looking For Alaska, one I had never read. It used to be her favorite, and in the picture her eyebrows are drawn together and she's looking at the word-laden page with ferocity and concentration. I thought she was beautiful, in her natural habitat - curled up with a book. I took the picture to capture the moment, something I did at random times so I could remember certain things. I can't remember why I wanted to remember Annie's love for books.
My eyes flick away as I step out of my small bedroom, shutting the door with a click behind me.
-
"How do you know where I live?" My brother stands in front of me, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looks at me with an unreadable expression.
"Just let me in," He pushes past me, into my apartment. I watch with disdain as he makes himself at home, getting comfy on my couch.
Reluctantly, I shut my door, crossing my arms as I watch him. "What do you want?" It had only been a few days since we last saw each other at dinner.
"We need to talk sometime," Charlie shrugs, biting his lip - a nervous habit of his from when we were kids.
"No, we really don't." I had no interest in talking to him, ever. My mind was shutting down, seeing Charlie at my place, on my couch. It was too out of my control, too upsetting and odd.
Charlie heaves a huge sigh, running a hand through his blonde hair. "I want to talk. Please, just let me talk." I watch him. Uncross my arms. Cross them again.
"Fine. But I have to go turn off my radio first, in my room." I excuse. Scurrying to my room, I shut the door. Carefully, silently, I pour three Oxy pills in my hand. Shove them down my throat. Wait for the tide to wash in.
I didn't feel bad. If my brother wanted to talk, I couldn't be sober.
I sat across from him, in my armchair. We sit in silence.
"Annie missed you, a lot." Charlie starts. I watch him cautiously. He fiddles with his hands. I don't process what he says. "Every day, she'd ask about you. Wondering how you were, what you were doing." He chuckles bitterly. "Like I would have known."
"What do you want?" I ask, barely above a whisper. His statements rattled me, and I felt two seconds away from a breakdown. I couldn't have one. Not again.
He meets my eyes. "I want you to care."
I sit up straighter. Blink the tears away. The pills were working, calming the anger rushing in, threatening to push me off the deep end. Instead I just look at him, my eyes flat. "You have no idea."
His eyes flicker to the ground. I watch him in a calm storm. "Chandler, please. I loved her, so much. But she wasn't happy. Not at all. She missed you, and Belinda was never there for her."
"That's not my fault." I say evenly.
Charlie bites his lip. "You blamed her for-"
I'm on my feet in a flash. "Get out." I growl. The high immediately left my system. Now, I'm just a pissed off sister.
"Chandler, we have to talk-"
"This isn't talking. You're blaming me. You've always blamed me. Just get out of my apartment, please." I say, as calm as possible.
He doesn't budge. "Have you ever wondered why she texted you that night?! And not me, or her own mother? Huh, Chandler?! Have you?!" He's yelling, on his feet and standing eerily close.
I stare at him. Don't say anything.
"I hate you," He sneers before pushing past me, bumping my shoulder rather harshly. I slam the door shut behind him, tears forming behind my eyes.
