Fallen Angel

Part I

Each and everyday, it's always the same routine.

• Get up.

• Get dressed.

• Eat, which I never do.

• Take medicine.

• Go back to room.

That's all I ever do here in this place. I'm living in a nightmare, a never ending abyss of your worst fears.

"Parker?" I turned around and saw one of the nurses with a smile on her face. "What the hell are you so happy about?" I snapped. Her smile immediately faded and she looked down, obviously offended. I sighed and looked away. "Sorry... just in a cranky mood," I apologized. The nurse's smile returned. "Oh. It's alright," she said. I looked at her and smiled slightly. "Anyways, it's time for you to be let out. Remember? Today's your last day here. Aren't you excited?" she asked. I frowned and looked down at my hands on my lap. "Actually, no, I'm not. I'd rather die in this hot mess than in the bigger mess back home." I stated. The nursed sighed and frowned again as she said, "I'm sorry you have to go back... I am going to miss you though. I really like your company." I smiled slightly, but it was weak. "Thanks... I'm going to miss you, too."

"But you can come back and visit at any time if you want."

"I doubt they'll let me, but I'll try."

Finally, it was time to go. I waited outside for my parent's car to pull up. Suddenly, I saw their bright red car parallel park in front of the sidewalk. I approached the car and opened the car door. "Hello, son," my father said sternly, not once looking at me. My mom did a quick glance, but that was it. I sighed and got in the car, putting my suitcase on the floor board. We began driving and there was nothing but an awkward silence. Very awkward, I might add. "Got any medication?" When my mom finally spoke up, she asked the question she already knew the answer to. "Yes, why?" I asked. "Just curious, that's all," she said. I nodded slowly and started to look out the window at the grey skies, which exemplified my soul. A dark, grey storm cloud that swelled up with depression that was desperate to be let out. Time passed by quickly, and in no time we were already at the house. I slowly got out of the car and picked up my suitcase. "Hurry to your room. It hasn't changed one bit. We'll let you know when dinner is ready," my dad said. Not really the response I was hoping for, but I could care less.

I walked inside the house and quickly made my way upstairs. I entered my room and sighed. Dad was right. My room is the same as when I left. I'm surprised they didn't throw any of my things out. I kind of figured that everything that I owned would make them sick. They already look like they hate the fact that I'm back. I don't even need them to tell me.

I set my suitcase down and started to unpack, putting my clothes back into my dresser. I looked out my window that was close to my dresser and saw a shirtless guy next door. He looked to have slight dark brown hair. He looked perfect as he put a shirt on, and I looked away from him. I fixed my focus on my suitcase, beginning the rest of my unpacking. "PARKER! DINNER!" my father yelled from downstairs. I sighed and begun making my way downstairs. I saw the food and my parents sitting at the table and I quietly said, "I'll just... take my dinner to my room."

As I started to reach for my plate, his voice surprised me. "No. We will eat here like a family. Sit down," my father commanded. I sighed once again and sat down. They stared at me as if I were an object on display, their eyes burning into my soul. Like a family? I wouldn't call them a family. I don't even know what to call them.

I didn't even eat. I didn't want to. I couldn't. I wouldn't say that I'm anorexic; I just never have an appetite. The medication I take kind of just never makes me hungry. It blocks me from eating things. Sad, isn't it? The medication that helps me for one thing hurts me in another way.

"Parker, don't waste your food. I suggest you eat it," my dad said. "I'm not hungry," I replied. My dad narrowed his eyes at me, that venomous stare he has given me my whole life. "You say you're not hungry, yet when you walked in here you told us that you were going to take your dinner upstairs, meaning you were going to eat, but right now you don't want to because you hate this family. Am I right?"

"I..."

"We pay good money to put food on this table, and you're just going to waste it because you don't want to eat in this beautiful dining room with us, correct? You'd rather eat in solitude. Tell me now; if I was to let you take your dinner upstairs to your room, would you eat it? Or are you still not hungry?"

I stared at my dad, not wanting to say anything. I was kind of afraid to say something. So I just repeated again, "I'm not hungry."

My dad groaned and pointed toward the stairs. "Then go. You will not sit in here and just waste your food. You will go to bed without supper. I hope you starve to death," he said. I frowned. That kind of hurt.

I got up and walked towards the stairs, making my way up. I entered my room and shut the door behind me. Starve to death? Maybe I should just overdose on pills. I approached my dresser once more, only to see that boy out my window again. He was getting yelled at by his dad, and I frowned when I saw his dad smack him. The dad got back up and shoved his dad out of the room. He walked to his window and saw me. My eyes widened and I felt my heart stop. He gave me a small smile then waved a little. He closed his curtains and that was the last I saw him.