graffiti (completed)

Twenty.

At this point, I was pretty sure she was testing me.

The woman slipped out, again, on account that she had to go in for someone at work, or something she could have easily turned down. She was supposed to be off the entire week, and was, but  "Somethig came up," she had said, quickly slipping on frozen yogurt shop uniform. She was in graduate school, and an abundance of frozen yogurt places only hired kids like her. She took classes when I was in school, and worked whenever, I guess. I didn't pay attention when she first told me, those few weeks ago in her car.

I made sure everything was locked, and that she was pulling out of the driveway before peering under the bed, and grabbing my backpack.

It couldn't be filled as much as a suitcase, but that was all I needed to start out. A few hoodies, summer clothes, three pairs of shoes. I was a master of packing as much as possible in as little space as possible. The door, small, nearly hidden if the room was dark enough, only had a few cans from the last venture. I needed more. I could maybe do a few throwups, two colored, round lettered tags with the currebt supply, but as stated, only a few.

I sighed when I unlocked my phone, conversation with Emma still on screen. I looked to my backpack, and back to the phone. Backpack. Phone. I shrugged. Sometimes I wouldn't be around for things. This was one of those times.

I instinctively stuffed the bag into the storage and shut the door at the sound of the doorbell, breathing a "Coming!" as i rushed down the stairs. I sighed when it simply opened, because of course nobody locked it. In a neighborhood like this, nobody needed to lock their doors. Well, percievably.

"Oh."

The gray eyes met me with surprise, wavy hair, sweatshirt even though it was obviously spring.

"It's good to see you, uh, Casey," he said, attempting to subtly look over my shoulder, "Is Melodie there?"

"She stepped out," I tried to close the door, but he stopped it with his hand.

"Where did she go?"

"Work."

"When will she be back?"

I opened the door fully, only so he could get the full view of me rolling my eyes. "Call her. I don't know. Bye."

An easy close of the door, if he didn't stop it once again, this time a sneaker in between door and its destination.

A chuckle erupted from him, the kind that doesn't mean you're amused, or entertained. But rather sad. The kind you do before sighing, as he did.

"You know," I could see his smile through the gap of the door, "if it weren't for the eyes, you'd look exactly like her."

I grit my teeth, hand gripping the door handle with all my might, though I knew he was stopping me from giving it a slam. "I don't want to talk."

I should've left sooner, before the suspension, before the run with the crew, before I met Derek, I should've ran away on the first night I got here, I should've kept going until I grew out of the system and was left on the streets. I wouldn't be in this mess if I would've stayed on my feet, changed my name. I could've dyed my hair. I could've put in contacts. He wouldn't have recognized me.

"Even when you were little. It was like the same person, but tiny, and half me."

"That's the most insulting thing I've ever heard about me." I snapped.

"I didn't think you remembered, so I thought you wouldn't be mad. I didn't think you'd recognize--"

"You wouldn't expect someone you were supposed to protect, that you left out there to be mad?"

"I should've been ready to be a father."

"And now you are? I burned your face into my memory. I thought you were something I could finally keep. I remember everything. I don't want to talk."

Despite my anger fueled effort, he cracked the door wider open with his hand, looking me in the eyes.

"I could never truly express how sorry I am."

"I twisted my ankle, after you left," I said, "the water shut off."

He didn't say anything, just looked at me again, as if he was trying to connect me with a bratty teenage girl gabbing to him about her stressful school day. I wished I was that, especially then.

"There is no right reason. None."

"Why didn't you come back for me, once you were done feeling as you should have always felt?"

"By then you were already in foster care; they wouldnt let me take you back."

"And now, you still can't. Bye."

"You act so much like her, too. I was tough, but I seemed nervous to many. She was never nervous, always tough. Always like a hurricane. Changing your world. So full of everything--"

"Leave."

"I didn't know that she'd try to die," he spoke quicker, "I didn't know you would find her.

I pushed him as hard as I could, so hard he backed away in surprise, and slammed the door, locking as hard as I could, which probably did nothing but channeled my anger. I slid down tp the floor, head in hand, trying to sort my feelings in thoughts, stuff them in an ink marker or splatter them on an imaginary wall based on how strong or how weak.

"Bella tried to get you back. She called me when she was better. She told me how much I messed up."

I just held my head in my hands. Bella, Bella Sanchez, as her father was straight from Spain and her mother was American.  We had the same hair, long, dark brown, and she had brown eyes instead of gray. But she told me how everyone was different, how I was beautiful. She hugged me at the bus stop the day she was taken.

My mouth finally opened. "I thought she was dead."

He didn't say anything from the other side. A silent stalemate between a closed door, the only clue that he was still there being the frosted glass showing a silhouette.

"I'm going to tell Melodie before I leave," he said, "I was going to see if you could live with me again, if I could prove myself somehow. Just until I could get you to Bella."

"I need some time," I wanted to sound strongn like a hurricane, but I sounded like a drizzle. Weak. "I'm going to call the cops if you dont leave."

"Okay." I could hear him get up, see the silhouette change as he did, "goodbye Casey."

"You'll just forget to come back, right?"

He gave no response to the comment. He just left. And as I heard the car pull out of the driveway, I could feel myself breaking off like an iceberg in the sea.