F Stands For Forever #JustWriteItChallenge

3. Honey

**Honey**

Why do these things always have to happen to me? I wonder as I throw away painting after painting, chucking them one by one into the large box on my right. Everything thing I own--everything I’ve made and bought and had been given--is gone now. Everything was destroyed.

Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time with Ted. We never get to hang out anymore, especially since high school started and Ted and Niki became popular while I was left somewhere in the background covered in dirty and the untouchable disease.

I thought that after high school all of the bullying and difficulties would be over for me, but I was naïve to think so. There’s always going to be someone bigger and better than me who can ruin my life in a blink of an eye. I’ll never be free from the monstrosities of this world.

When I first walked into my house I knew something was wrong even though all of the lights were off. I could smell my pastels and paints in the air, and I could see the rising sun’s reflection shining across a golden doorknob on a door that I know I closed before I left.

Everything was ruined. My paintings and sketches were torn off the walls in my studio and thrown carelessly to the floor. All of their frames are broken. My thrift store couches are cut up in pieces like someone dragged knives through them over and over again. All of my tables are turned over, legs broken. Mirrors and vases lay smashed on the floor. Windows are broken. The faucet to the sink had been snapped off, the stove burners stolen (why? I have no idea), linoleum and hardwood floors scraped completely. My only TV and computer were stolen. Thank God I transferred all of my writing to a flash drive two nights ago.

The only thing left untouched is my basement, and that’s only because there’s an unbreakable lock on it that I bought when I first moved in here. I always keep the key in my pocket even when I leave the house.

My fingers were shaking so bad it took me five minutes before I could unlock the door. When the lock was free, I ran down the steep, slightly winding stairs and fell face first into my bed. The first thing I did was scream and then I cried for twenty minutes while I wrapped myself inside my Harry Potter blanket.

Niki was the first person I called, but I was crying so much I don’t think she heard a word I told her. The next thing I know someone is at my door, and after minutes of reluctance and Ted’s yelling, I finally got up into a slouch and then stood slowly. I was light-headed from crying for so long and I made sure to wipe away all of my tears before letting Ted in the house.

The first thing he did was swear at the sight of my dangerously clustered floor. I realized I still had the phone on and clicked it off, setting it down no where in particular.

“What the hell happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” I said. I wondered if my eyes and cheeks were all red and puffy. I always feel so self-conscious around him.

“Is anything stolen? Have you checked yet?” He started to move around to observe the damage done, cursing when ever he found something worse than the last. He stopped right in front of my studio door. “I’ve never seen this room before.” He began to walk in.

“No!” I practically yelled at him. I felt foolish afterward and then there was this heavy silence that weighted down on our shoulders. Damn, what the hell did I do that for? Ted looked at me like I was insane.

“Are you crazy?!” He yelled back at me. It’s official. He thinks I’m insane. “Someone just ransacked your house! What If they took something important?”

He tried to walk through the door again, but I tackled him before he could so much as take a glimpse of the interior.

“Ted, listen to me, okay?” I said to him very slowly, my eyes directly meeting his. I hadn’t realized at the moment what position we were in, but now that I think back on it, I was sitting right on top of his crotch. “You cannot go into that room, do you hear me, Ted? You cannot go in there.”

Judging by the look on his face, maybe I was a little crazy, but he didn’t understand. If Ted walked through that room we would probably never be friends anymore. It would ruin everything. He doesn’t know I used to have dozens of pictures of him hanging up on my walls. Now they are all ruined and torn apart on the floor, but they are pictures of him all the same.

Sure all of the pictures I hung up weren’t of him, but the majority of it them are. Him in black and white. Him in orange. Him sitting under a sky of color, a rainbow reflected on his face. What would he think of me if he knew just how fascinated I am by him. It’s not because I’m obsessed or some creepy stalker best-friend or something. It’s just…he’s so damn beautiful. It’s hard to forget a face like his. He’s in my mind constantly and the only way to make me feel better is to get him out. The only way I know how is through my writing and drawing. And because of this, he can never lay foot inside of that room.

“Okay, okay,” he acquiesced. I thought it was going to take more insisting than that, but Ted could see that I was serious. “Could you get off of me now?”

I looked around me as if there was someone else in the room and then back down at Ted. Because I have light skin I knew Ted could see my blush easily which made me even more embarrassed. I quickly stood up and stepped away from him like someone would a poisonous snake.

“I’m sorry,” I began. “I didn’t mean to NFL on you. Did I hurt you? Here, sit down.” I held out my hand and helped him up off the ground and into the only chair left unbroken.

“I’m fine,” he said so I would quit making a fuss over him. I did and stood a few feet away from him, hugging my shoulders so I wouldn’t do anything else completely stupid.

“I really am sorry,” I said. I toed some shards of glass with my sneaker around the floor in front of me. I felt like I had to explain myself, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. “It’s just that I have some really special things in there that I don’t like anyone to see. I’m embarrassed about it, really.”

He looked up at me, the irritation and anger drained from his face to reveal curiosity. “Is it your art?”

I don’t answer him. Of course it’s my art! He already knows the answer to that. Ted rarely gets to see the pictures and painting I draw. It’s hard for me to show other people. My art is a part of me and I rarely ever let people see who I am. I just feel too…exposed--too vulnerable, perhaps. Even my own mother doesn’t really know who I am. Hell, I don’t even know.

“Are you thirsty?” I asked, turning my back to him. “The fridge is pretty much destroyed but I think I spotted some coffee still intact--if you want some, I mean.”

“Honey.”

“I’ll just see if I can find some glasses. I probably only have plastic now.” I started to walk away but was stopped by a hand gripping my elbow. “What is it?” I asked him. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

He looked at me with those eyes. They are the purest, palest blue I’ve ever seen with green and dark gray circling the pupil like a smoky cloud. Because his mother is Guatemalan I’ve always suspected his eyes are his father’s, wherever in this world he may be, but even that I can not believe. His eyes are purely his own. Nothing can ever compare, not even their maker. If I could ever compare a picture to Ted’s eyes it would be the one I saw last year in a museum of a tornado swooping up lake water in a middle of a forest. His eyes are--I don’t know. Dangerous. Mysterious. They never quite tell me what he’s thinking.

“It’s okay to be sad, Honey.” I let him pull me into his arms and I nestled into my perfect place. His chin rested on the crown on my head. It felt so nice to be held by him. All of my worries just melt away. “Just because I’m here--you don’t have to put on a show for me, you know. You know you can tell me anything. I‘m here for you.”

I looked up into his eyes and forced myself not to look away. “Ted,” I told him, my voice almost cracking at the effort. “I’m fine, trust me. Really.” And stupid him. He actually did. Ted let me go