Pretty Boy (boyxboy)

Chapter Eighteen

I'm already in my room with the door shut by the time I finally hear the car door shut and the front door open as mom lets herself in.

I toss my phone onto the bed and stand in the middle of my room.
It is exactly how I left it. My bed is made neatly, with the grey sheets tucked into crisp edges at the corners. My closet door stands open and half empty from all the clothes I took with me when I left. The few books that I left behind are stacked on top of my small nightstand.

My feet drag me over to my small attached bathroom and stand in the doorway. It, too, is the same as I left it, but it's memories are forever imprinted in my mind.

My fingers fumble in the dark as I search for the light switch, instantly brightening the room. My hands grip onto the edge of the sink and my eyes wander to my reflection in the dirty mirror.

This place, specifically this room, brings back so many memories. Almost too many to count.

Visions of my shaking body sitting against the shower door with blood seeping from my stomach fills my mind. Or the nights I spent sobbing as quietly as I could, while forcing my food back out of my body because I'd convinced myself I didn't deserve it.

I force myself to flick the light back off and step out of the cold bathroom.

My phone buzzes loudly as I finally flop my tired body down onto the familiar bed.
I smile when Jamie's contact name appears and quickly accept her call.

"Hey JJ."

"Hey Matty."

I can hear her grinning through the phone.

"Are you ever gonna give up that awful nickname?"

She giggles.
"Nope. So how's the home life?"

"Just dandy." I reply, dryly.

"Damn. That bad?"

I laugh.
"Yup. I shouldn't have even bothered to come."

"You wouldn't have been any better staying at the hospital by yourself all weekend." She reasons.

"Yeah I guess."

"How bad was it?"

"I mentioned visiting Eva's grave and she flipped."

"I'm sorry Matty."

I start to tell her it's fine, as I always do, but I'm interrupted by another voice in the background followed by a loud shriek.

"Uh? Jamie? You there?"

"Ugh. Yes I'm here. Nate's being annoying." She groans.

"What else is new?"

Jamie laughs and I hear more talking from the background.
"Nate says that was mean and he's mad at you now."

"Tell him I beg for his forgiveness. " I tell her, my voice dripping in sarcasm.

"He says he'll only forgive you if he gets your number so he can talk to you too. He feels left out." She giggles.

I bite my lip, grinning.
"You can give it to him."

"You're forgiven."

I laugh.
"Good. I better get going. I gotta face my mom at some point."

"Alright. Good luck."

"I'll need it."

The dial tone sounds in my ear, signaling JJ's already hung up. I lock my phone and slide it into my bad pocket before taking a breath and reaching for my door knob.

I step into the hallway, glancing over at Eva's old room. The door has been shut ever since her funeral.

As if on autopilot, I am carried toward the door. I don't realize what I'm doing until the door creaks open.

I drag myself I to the room, but only a few steps. Her bed is exactly the way she always left it, messy and disheveled. I choke out a laugh at the memories of her running around, trying to make it to school on time for once, throwing outfits everywhere and leave lipstick prints on tissues.
There's a large algebra 2 textbook placed on her nightstand. She hated that class with a passion. She said it made her feel even more dumb that usual because none of it ever made sense. 
Her yellow walls seem darker now, without her here to brighten them. I used to hate the color but right now I find myself enjoying, simply because it's Eva.
I turn around and see her black converse shoes thrown carelessly in her closet. Above them, are racks of jeans and t shirts. The bright yellow one with a sunflower printed on it stands out the most. That one was her favorite.

The fond memories of my sister are erased when i spot the black belt laying on the floor beside her window. It was my dads but Eva had asked to wear it to school, so he lent it to her. If only he'd known that hours later that same belt would be ripping every last breath from his daughter, he'd have never given it to her.

"What are you doing in here?"

I jump at my mothers harsh voice and turn to face her.
She keeps her eyes trained on me, and keeping her body just outside the doorway, not letting her foot step inside even an inch.

"I just needed to see it."

"You've seen enough. Now let's go. It's time for dinner."

"You haven't been in here since the funeral have you?"

Her eyes narrow.
"What does that matter?"

"It matters because you're not living in reality, mom."

"Excuse me?"

I throw my hands up in frustration.
"You're acting like she never even existed. Locking up her room, never visiting her grave, never talking about her, for heavens sake mom, you even took down her picture."

She stays silent like I knew she would so I continue.

"You get rid of every trace of her and then distance yourself from everyone. Suddenly, work becomes the only thing you care about."

"That's not true."
Her voice is defensive yet quiet and weakened.

"Well if it weren't true then maybe dad would still be here and I wouldn't be in a mental institution." I spit.

My blood is boiling and my fists are clenched at my sides. I'm prepared for whatever she says next, I need to get it out of my system.

What I don't expect is when her face drops and she falls to her knees, crying.