The house no one Knows about

SIXTEEN

Every day was the same. Hot tea and pancakes for breakfast; I would drink warm water and rest then wake up and have soup for lunch and for dinner. We went out often but mostly a drive into the countryside and sometimes we would watch the news. One time, they were talking about the chain of robberies in Charlotte; I remember I laughed hard that day. After drinking my daily dosage of hot tea, we go into the attic to watch The Proposal. I think he forgot to tell me what to eat and what not to eat before he fell asleep but today I'm feeling very suicidal. I empty out a tub of ice cream but before I can quickly dispose of the empty bowl, I choke on the last spoon and start couching. He wakes up, drags me downstairs and makes me drink a glass of hot water.

'Why?' he asks

I just shrug and leave the living room. In fact over the next few days, I'm pursuing new attempts at crossing the gate and entering the land of the dead but he is persistent at keeping me alive.

'Stop trying Bambi'

'Why? What makes you think I enjoy this?'

'I never said that'

'I hate being here'

'I know'

'No, I mean I hate being in this world'

This becomes our daily argument. It is unfortunate that there is nothing to say or do to me that will stop me from repeating those words.

'Stop it' he would say.

'I hate being in this world, I hate being in this world, I hate being in this world!' I would scream just to see the sadness in eyes.

We fought like that every day, except one day; the 7th of December. We didn't speak at all. We simply sat in silence and waited for the snow to start falling. I knew what was coming ahead and he knew it as well. I didn't scare us, it frightened us because we expected the same things; more fights. He was probably thinking of what day I would choose to kill myself. I was wondering how hard it is for him to look into my bambi eyes and watch me fall into misery and dejection.

I was depressed. I got tired of the same routine, get sick, go to the hospital, come back and get sick again. I thought about it every time and it made me mad at him. Why shouldn't I kill myself, he didn't understand what I was going through. He thinks it makes happy to be alive. So out of anger I stuffed an ice tray full of water into the freezer and when it was frozen, I shoved each cube into my mouth. He sat on the couch and watched me with disgust and pity in his eyes. I can't swallow the ice, I keep on licking it, the cold water is like poison in mouth and I eventually spit it out.

'Why didn't you stop me?' I yell at him, with tears in my eyes.

I start to cough again. He gets up and passes me a cup full of hot water before returning to his statue-like position. I sip the water because there's nothing else I can say, my actions resulted in my mortification and now I wish I could hug him and tell him that I'm sorry but is there a point? I'm still angry at him. I slam the cup down and storm off to my room. I spend many nights awake, thinking about what is wrong with us and how I can fix it but it is almost impossible. We spend our days either arguing or not speaking because everything is broken and it's hard to fix it.

On the first day of winter I am petrified. The window in my room is open and I am standing right in front of it, watching small colonies of snowflakes fall unto the ground. My skin was cold and I was shivering as usual. He was standing in the doorway; watching me. I stood there shivering for some seconds before he eventually closes the window and sits on the window sill. He is so tall that I have no choice but to look into his eyes.

'Why do you want to leave me so quickly?'

I run my hand through his hair. It's hard not to see what's been eating him up for weeks. It's me. He worries so much about me that he doesn't get enough sleep at night either. He knows what is wrong with me and understands the fact that I'm tired of everything but he is still trying to save me. He didn't walk away from me out with irritation and I have to think about the way he feels.

'You're the anonymous attractive boy who is always watching and drives a Ferrari 458 Italia, why would I want to leave you?'

He holds me cold hand and kisses it; I can suddenly feel the warmth travelling around my palm.

'I'm sorry; I was being inconsiderate for no reason'

'You're dying, it's explicable'

* * *

I do not know how the window was open at night. I didn't think that she would open it but I guess she started feeling suicidal again because on my way to bed I hear her faint voice gasping for air. I carry out the same routine; close the window, fill a cup with hot water and prepare a steaming hot towel for her. I climb into her bed and she immediately wraps her arms around me while I rub the towel on her arms, head and neck. Afterwards she rests her head on my bare chest and runs her fingers up and down on my stomach, paying close attention to the faded bruises.

'How did you get these?'

'My parents'

'Are you serious?'

'Yeah'

'Did it hurt?'

'Like hell'

She giggles.

'How old was Izzy when you met him?'

'I was six and he was twelve. We dated for a year that was when I was thirteen. I know what you're thinking, I mean he was nineteen but he wasn't a paedophile or anything. When he turned twenty we started having issues'

'I can see why'

'Don't judge me'

'I would never do that'

She closes her eyes for a second. The brother tattoo is on the back of her elbow. It's a heart made out of vines and a sash tied around the bottom. Inside the sash, it says "Brother"

'How come you never took the tattoo off?'

'No matter what he will always be my brother; if he didn't do what he did for me, I'd be dead'

I feel a pang of envy because I wish it was me she was talking about like that but I am also grateful to Izzy for keeping her alive.

'I have to go now' I whisper.

She shakes her head and wraps her arm around my waist.

'No, please just stay'

* * *

If anyone asked what the most beautiful moment in mankind was, I would say this one, right here. It wasn't the scene in Titanic where Jack died and Rose said that she'll never let go seconds before literally letting go. It is this, because real love doesn't get any realer. We are lying in this bed and I have my arms wrapped around him; drinking up his body heat because I lack any. He is asleep but I am not asleep because for the first time in ten years, I am too hot.

I know and nobody needs to tell me this, if everyone could only see in thermo gram imaging, people like me wouldn't be seen by anybody. While T.A.A.B.W.I.A.W.A.D.A.F.458.I sleeps I watch him, the way his chest rises and falls. He fell asleep with his arm around me, I bury my head into his neck; he smells like cocoa butter. I slip out of the bed and press my hands against the freezing window in an attempt to get cold again so I can soak up his warmth without burning myself.

'Hey, wake up' I whisper when I climb back in.

'It's not morning yet' he mumbles 'What?'

'You look beautiful when you're half asleep'

'Same with you but you have this serene thing about you'

'I haven't slept since'

'Why not?'

'I was too hot'

'That's amazing'

'I know'

'You seem so happy'

'I just like having you around'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah, I think this should become regular routine'

'I think so too'

And he falls asleep. It takes a while for me to sleep too but I start to feel more comfortable with his arm around me.