Halo

I - 1

"True loneliness is not being alone, but being surrounded by the wrong people."  ~ Unknown

Part I: Walls

I was ten years of age when my life took an unexpected u-turn for hell.  I guess it's not even that which bothers me so much, but the tragic irony in the whole thing. The fact the my sister, the only person who might have been able to pick up the pieces, was the one who caused it all. The fact that she was the more impressive sibling, and she was the one my dad loved. The fact that she was the one who made me strong. And because of her, I hate what I am today. 

I was ten years of age when my sister, Bianca, died.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I hated her, quite the opposite actually; I loved her too much. The irony continues, as a similar incident happened to Bianca when my mom died. Her heart was torn out of her chest, thrown on the ground and stomped on a few times. But circumstances were different then; she was still loved, she still had my dad to turn to, and she still had me to stay strong for. If her situation was a wound, mine might as well be death. My dad nearly hates me since I was and am never able to rise up to the bar my sister set in anything, so love is out of the question. I am as social as a chair. In fact, a chair probably has more human contact than I do, so friends are a negative. That leads to the fact that I don't have anyone I care about or need to be strong for. As it may seem, I don't rely or care for anyone, and vise versa; the clichès are needless to say. I like to believe that this won't change until my bones themselves are decaying in a coffin underground.

__________

Maybe it's the quiet, maybe it's the way I can sit in my dorm without having anyone telling me what to do, or maybe it's the fact that my dad wants nothing to do with me, and if I went home I'd probably just lock myself in my room anyway, but I don't actually mind staying on campus over the summer. 

Lucky for me, the peace and quiet ends today (I hope you noted the sarcasm).

After exchanging a few awkward conversations with my dorm organizer, I managed to get the same dorm I was in last year. That's also how I managed to stay on campus over the summer. My dad never called or emailed to find out why I didn't come home, not that I'm surprised. I may as well be another notch on his belt of people he hates. 

Having the same dorm is definitely practical, as I don't have to move any of my stuff or worry about applying for a new room with a faint chance of getting accepted. There is a downside however:

Roommates.

My roommate last year was a complete doorknob; to be honest, I don't even know how he got into this university in the first place. Probably some professor's son. Maybe even just a really rich kid who over-paid his way in. Not to mention he was seemingly unattractive. Either way, I didn't care. He was easy enough to ignore. I'm just praying this year will something similar.

I can already hear the sound of too-big mattresses hitting my door from the outside as people start to move in. I gather all my energy and attempt to open my eyes, failing as I can only manage them to go half-way. My vision is even more impaired by my hair pasted to the tops of my eyelids. My hand escapes from the depths of my covers and I comb it back, propping myself up on one elbow. My phone lays half-stuffed under my pillow. I pull it out slowly and press the power button on the side. 9:32. 9:32? Who the hell wakes up this early? My groans become muffled by my pillow as my head sinks back into it. Of course I realize that my door could be opened at any minute, revealing the guy that I'm going to spend the next year ignoring.

As if on cue, I hear a key being inserted into the keyhole. Shit. I throw my covers to the side and almost fall out of my bed. I rip my closet open and grab whatever I can find, and sprint into the joint bathroom (not that it's that far of a sprint anyway). As soon as I shut the door, I can hear the room door open. I can only imagine what my side of the room looks like right now; I'm generally a pretty clean person, but I was rushing, okay? I manage to see what I abruptly grabbed from my closet, which is now probably wide open. Well, now my new roommate has a wonderful display of my underwear to look at as he's unpacking. Wonderful. 

Thankfully, I actually grabbed everything necessary; my Pierce the Veil shirt, a pair of my many black skinny jeans, a pair of boxers (thank god), and I even managed to get some socks, though they're mismatched, but I don't really care. I step into the shower and quickly rinse off, before drying myself and pulling on my clothes (no, I didn't throw my clothes on. I think that literary clichè is far too distant from what's actually happening). I steal a glance in the mirror and decide my hair is fine the way it is, and slide the bathroom door open. Let's see what selection of doorknob is waiting for me this time. 

The first thing I see is far-too-black hair, even darker than mine, and that's saying something. But something catches my eye; a blue streak. Okay, so this guy doesn't seem like some happy-go-lucky kind of person so far, which I am far too grateful for. The guy shifts a bit, and I also see a hoop pierced into his right ear. I carefully step over to my closet and shut it. The guy turns so his back is still facing me. I also take note of a spiked choker; so he's a goth. Perfect. He's wearing all black anyway, so it seemed suitable. Now I'm standing here like a loser trying to make my bed subtly, when something strikes me as strange. This guy standing in front of me looks far too... curvy. I mean, usually you'd think a guy's definitions would be more in his shoulders and arms, or his jaw or something like that. But this guy's hips and legs seem a little too noticeable. Wait. This is guy.. isn't a- the person turns around and faces me -guy. Well, this takes me by complete surprise. The girl's pale face is dusted with freckles just on the bridge of her nose, and I see that both her ears are pierced with small silver hoops. Her tank-top stops just above her baggy jeans. My eyes meet hers and I'm shocked by just how blue they are. "Um," I start, "this is a male-only floor." Wow, that sounded stupid. She cracks a grin. "I know," she says, then turns back around, walking to the door and peering down the hallway. I eye her carefully and subconsciously play with a lose string on my shirt. She looks like she spots who she's looking for and motions the person to come quickly. After letting out an over-exaggerated sigh, she trudges out the door, leaving me here waiting for who she brings in with her. After a few moments of me standing here not knowing what to do, she walks in with a suitcase in one hand and an arm in the other. I see the owner of the arm walk in with her, and I immediately regret keeping this room.

"God Jason, you take for. Ever." She tugs the boy in and he almost stumbles over his feet. The suitcase in her hand drops to the floor and she looks me up and down, making me extremely uncomfortable. She finally stops examining me and takes the bags from the guy's hands. "Thals, I can do it myself," he says, the embarrassment just dripping off his face. Thals. must be short for something. "Thalia. I said I can do it myself," he repeats, taking the bags back. She looks up at him placing her hands high on her hips. "Okay. I'm just trying to help out my little brother," she teases. Little? Well there's definitely nothing little about him, looks about 6'1 to me. "But you're right, I have to leave anyway. Seeya later," she says and reaches her hand up to ruffle his sandy blonde hair, then strolls out the door. As soon as she's gone he combs his hair forward into it's previous state. He throws me a nervous smile. "Sorry about my sister," he says. I scratch the back of my neck and try to avert his eyes; they're the same blue as his sister's. Then there's a silence that is by no means comfortable. Here's the thing about awkward silences: it's only awkward if a) someone says it's awkward, or b) no one moves. 

Neither of us moves a muscle.