annihilated. /mcr fanfic (pt. 2 of resurrected, completed)

chapter four

its Saturday morning. 

I can hear Jane vacuuming the living room. I imagine rob sitting on the couch with his feet up, watching the game. it's the natural position of the two of them on a Saturday morning. 

I'm supposed to work tonight, but i really don't want to. he even wants me to come in two hours early because his other employee has a doctors appointment or something like that. 

the klonapin I took yesterday is fogging up my brain, leaving me feeling like a zombie today. I figure I'll ride it out and smoke a bit before work tonight. I sit at my desk and roll an extra blunt for my mid-shift break. 

I check my phone for any update from Mikey. there's nothing. he's totally ghosted me.

it's fine, I didn't need friends anyway. I have all the friends I need, such as Theo, who's rubbing up against my leg as I put my illicit substances back where I found them. 

despite having Theo here with me, I'm beginning to feel more and more isolated. when it comes down to it, I don't really have anybody here for me. I'm certainly not anyones best friend. not even Theo- I'm not the one who feeds him, my mom is. the only person who listens to my problems is the person paid by my mother to fix my brain. 

I have to say, he isn't doing a very good job.

when I go downstairs, my mom gasps at my new appearance. 

"oh, Annie, I love the hair!" she says with a smile. she unplugs the vacuum from the wall and brings it back to the closet. 

I shrug. "thanks," I say as I headed into the kitchen for some water. rob doesn't even look up from the television set. on his lap is a pile of paperwork- probably tests or papers that he's working on grading. 

in the kitchen, theres a plate of cut up apples and strawberries. I pick from it absentmindedly, my eyes boring straight through the ground. I hardly have the strength to put them to use. I'm tired.

Jane comes into the kitchen. "are you okay?" she asks. I hear this constantly in this house, at least twice a day. 

I nod. "I didn't sleep well last night, I'm tired."

"oh, I'm sorry to hear that. do you want some coffee?" 

she's being weirdly sweet right now. she must have quickly gotten over her thoughts about me from yesterday, but that doesn't usually happen. I typically get the cold shoulder for days after making her upset for whatever reason.

I shake my head and leave the room. I go out the front door and take a seat on the porch with a handful of sliced apples and a glass of water. 

I can't help but wonder why I'm still pushing through.

why am I continuing to move through life without ever moving forward?

by living, I continue to demand help and strength from other people, specifically my mom.

I feel like if I were to leave, she would be able to grieve, then focus on herself for a change.

I feel as though she deserves to do that, to let go of me and recenter her life within herself.

Why do I keep pushing forward?

Why am I still here?

I throw the apples into the flower pot and look out onto the street. there are dozens of row homes that look just like mine. a few different shades of brown and red sprinkled with decorations and flower pots and bikes. a man is walking his fat bulldog down the street. two older women walk together, dressed in what I assume are their outfits, specially chosen for their specially planned work-out time. these women, they (clearly) aren't striving for perfection- otherwise they would stop eating and exercise in secret. not so out and open in public.