xxviii| Pœnitet

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"When you close that door you see
It's unhinged, it's just like me."

duodetriginta

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duodetriginta.

pœnitet

a feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over an occurrence.

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Chase's P.O.V

XXVII pars II

I WATCHED INTENTLY AS THE GREY SMOKE TRAVELLED UPWARDS, SLOWLY FILLING THE ROOM.

It didn't take long for my room to become like this, a thick cloud of ash and dust engulfing the room, yet it somehow looked slow and steady. I coughed slightly, my throat scratchy from the abundance of smoke I had been inhaling, all in one week, but that hadn't stopped me before.

I tapped the small bud on the edge of the crystal ashtray, watching the sparks rise before dissipating into nothing, before I placed my dry lips around the cigarette bud and inhaled again.

It was a repetitive pattern, an ongoing cycle, causing me to lose track of time. Of even the day.

It was only when my bedroom door slammed open that the day was less blurred into nothing, the loud sound causing me to jump, sitting upright as I stared in annoyance at my brother.

Tyler stormed into my room, barely even acknowledging me as he walked straight towards my bedroom window, opening it as much as he could before turning to me, disappointment evident on his face. "If you're going to smoke, at least open a window so you don't suffocate to death," he spoke, his voice showing clear signs of annoyance.

"Oh yeah, it's the cloud of smoke that will kill me," I muttered, placing my lips on the shrinking bud which lay limp between my two fingers.

"Honestly what the fuck is your problem?" Tyler's voice was raised as he stared directly into my eyes.

I dropped the cigarette bud onto the ashtray and exhaled, rolling my eyes, "if you're going to be dramatic, do it outside of my bedroom please."

Tyler scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest as he stared intently at me, obviously judging my actions and trying to find a way to fix me. "So that's it?" He began rhetorically, "you broke up with Lise and you're just going to fuck up your body by smoking again. I thought you stopped?" His voice was quiet with the last sentence.

I groaned, roughly shoving my hair out of my eyes, "I'm eighteen. I'm old enough to smoke now."

"Oh I forgot," Ty began sarcastically, leaning against the windowsill, "before, smoking fucked up your lungs, but now that you're legal it's perfectly healthy."

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