Martyr

Chapter 4

Alice

you know what's amazing? google. you can find, like, everyone's addresses on there!

fyi: i don't care if that was "creepy" or "stalkerish" because now i know that asshole's address! i'm talking about parker nordhoff. i caught him glaring at me after group on wednesday.

it's friday now. i'm smoking a cigarette while looking at all of parker's social media profiles and finding his house on google maps.

he lives, like, six blocks away from me. i'll just drive. i call up my friend, grace, who comes over... then the real fun begins.

we pass by a bunch of trees and houses before reaching this two story, dark blue house. white windows, big ones. i think this place even has a balcony. this was not the house i expected. i thought it'd be small, cozier.

what an ass.

grace stares at me, cigarette in one hand, bottle of whisky in the other. she's got fucked up teeth, straight blonde hair, and she has what i think is a fetish for raccoon makeup. not on her boyfriend, on her. what a little slut, but, well, she's my slut of a best friend.

"you see, grace," i start telling her, "what i'm about to do is the reason i don't count as a functioning member of society. don't try it at home. okay, gracey-poo?"

"alrighty, alice!" grace exclaims in some fake hillbilly accent. i smile at her before looking back at the house.

"this is what real fun is like." i take out a sharpie, lighter, and a few cigarettes.

we find parker's bedroom and manage to break his window open as quietly as possible. it's pretty neat for guy, this nice, big, blue bed in the middle of his room. he's got a lot of photos on his wall, which is dark blue. just like his bed. this kid really likes his blue.

"he's even got a t.v., in his room," grace says, "he must be rich!"

"no, grace, you're just poor."

"oh, that makes sense!" i pick the stupidest people as my friends.

the nordhoff family must be helen keller deaf to not hear grace and i intruding their property. i don't think anyone cares. grace and i decide to continue our little adventure and look through his room.

"look at this!" grace exclaims, picking up a nicely folded football jersey. how cute, he kept it. #12. parker was #12. it seemed like it'd be too big on him, but maybe he lost a significant amount of muscle mass after his little wheelchair incident. i clutch the jersey in my hand, i want to keep it for some odd reason.

parker's an ass, but i find myself attracted to him. not like a "i want to fuck him" attractive, but a real, genuine attraction. like his asshole personality is only because he's in a wheelchair. maybe he'd lighten up again, maybe i can try...

eventually, i decide to do what i came to do. on his window sill, i place six cigarettes next to each other.

on the first one, i write with a sharpie: "a shattered window isn't like your shattered heart."

on the second one: "too soon? i apologize."

third: "perhaps i can apologize..."

fourth: "... on a 'date.'"

fifth: "tomorrow. six in the evening."

six: "meet me at s&b downtown."

on the window sill itself, i draw a heart, then my initial and phone number.

he's going to think i'm a psychopath.

grace and i step out the way we came in, i'm still clutching his jersey. it somewhat smells like him, more grassy, though. i drop grace back off at her house before her parents realize i'm not old enough to drive her around with me. then, i realize they don't care. then, i realize i don't either.

i pull into my garage and head up to my room. parents aren't home, siblings aren't home, no one is home. i go on 8tracks and find some random playlist and open up my windows... the lights are all off, the streetlights are just beginning to turn on. i will tell you, sunsets look good when you're psychotically depressed. i put on parker's jersey. and for the first time in my life, i feel... secure...