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Chapter 24, posting 6 years late (lockdown got me bored as hell)

We were driving back home and all I could think about was, well, everything. I hated how this had happened, I was beggining to hate myself for even letting this happen. There was a lot wrong with talking to someone I knew had feelings for me, especially to the point where I think I like and some how love them back. I needed to know, if I genuinley had feelings or if I felt that in the moment out of pity. Ashton was pouring his heart out in a grave yard to his Mum, afterall. And I really do like, and love Damien. But had he found out about Ash? Is that why he snapped on the phone? Was it his family? Was he in trouble? I started to sweat remembering what had happened with his Mum, and the gash on his head. Recalling how angry he got when he punched the fence in the alley, and shredded his knuckles. He could be in the middle of that with his Dad right now.

Just as all these thoughts were screaming around in my head, I saw the cornershop apporaching that was at the end of Damien's road. I had to check on him.

"Stop the car."

"What?" Mum called, I was practically mute compared to the volume of Gary Barlow.

"STOP THE CAR!" I yelled. She looked confused, but did an emergency stop just before an empty zebra crossing.

"What's wrong? People behind us are beeping, Rome." She looked anxious, glancing over her shoulder. I was already clutching the door handle.

"I don't have time to explain, thanks for shopping and the brownies but I...I need to check on Damien. I'll explain later, I'm sorry." I practically fell out the door, clumsily slamming it behind me. I sprinted down the pavement towards his house, not looking behind me.

I wasn't concentrating on the house numbers and realised I was four houses past his. I pivot quickly, hoping no one is looking out of their window. I linger at the fence that hugged his front garden. It was chipped, with a lot of slats missing. I pictured Damien getting pissed at his parents and kicking them in when he leaves for the park. I wonder how often that happens, or if he's ever done it because of me.

I was abrutedly drawn from my thoughts by a loud smash. I remember why I was here, and run up to the door, knocking furiously. It swings open and I prepare to say something, anything to Damien. Only to realise, he isn't the person infront of me. I look up at the woman in the doorframe who I assume is Damien's Mum. She's thin. Scarily thin, but her face is taunt and rests angrily. She's got a busted lip, but still raises a lableless bottle to her mouth and takes a large swig of what smells like gin. I wander if it was a gin bottle she used on Damien.

"We..don't..want any cookies." She slurs. Cookies? Do I look like a shitting girl scout when I don't put effort into my appearance?!

"Right, no. I'm looking for Damien, actually." She doesn't seem to register what I'm saying, and turns around walking back into the house but leaving the door open. Does that mean come in? I'm too concerned about the earlier smash to be polite as I would've thought I'd be when 'meeting the parents', and I step in.

Its dark, the walls are a faded white colour with stains where photo frames once were. I mentally compare all of the photos we have at home of us all to what's infront of me and feel a wave of sad. I power through the nearest door trying to ignore the growing nerves in my stomach, this looks like it should be a living room. Theres a sofa on the far wall which is currently storage for empty bottles. Most of the floor is carpeted, but oddly stops two thirds of the way across like it was a forgotten job, where mismatched wooden flooring creeps out from underneath. I hover for a moment trying to get my barings. I can hear a tap running from the next room and quiet, disjointed mumbling. Assuming his Mum is occupied in there, I find the stairs with the same mismatch carpet-wood decor. I gingerly walk up, I'm not remotely confident on my welcoming to being here.