traumatized minds, luke hemmings

annoying blonde doctor.

[ Charlie Abbot
September 2nd ; 03:45 PM ]

I felt pure anger the second I walked into my disgusting apartment. I observed the empty, shattered beer bottles that lay on our carpet and at least a dozen syringes laying over our stained couch.

I felt my hands fall up into tight fists.

He said it wouldn't happen again— no, he promised me that it wouldn't happen again.

I unclench my fist when I realize that if I didn't, it would start bleeding, and feel the indents of my nails on my palms with my other hand and think. "Never again am I spending the night at a friend's house. Look how disgusting this place is, and I'm not even gone twenty-four hours."

I let go of my balled fists when I realized that my palm would start bleeding if I didn't, and felt the indents with my other hand as I thought to myself. "Never again am I spending the night at a friend's house. I mean, look at how disgusting my house is, and I wasn't even gone for twenty-four hours."

"Anyone home?" I shouted.

When I realized nobody was home, I took off my coat and hung it up on the coat rack. I took a small glance at the smashed beer bottles and used syringes before I walked down the hallway and into my room.

I opened my bedroom door and shut it when I was inside, sighing when I saw my puppy, strawberry, sleeping soundly on my messy bed. I grinned, laid down next to her, and gave her a kiss on the head.

After a few minutes of me laying beside strawberry, I knew I had to clean up my uncle's mess.

I got up, causing strawberry to whine quietly, grabbed my wired headphones from my backpack pocket, and pulled out my phone to plug them in. When I started playing a song, I left my room.

I grabbed the vacuum from the broom closet and plugged it in. I vacuumed what I could before sweeping up the beer bottles and cutting myself a couple of times in the process and throwing everything away.

I also carefully picked up the syringes, throwing them away in the trash can before freezing after I heard the front door swing open.

"What are you doing on the ground?" My uncle asks as he walked into the house, carrying three Walmart grocery bags full of stuff he no doubt stole. "Why does it smell like a bath and body works store threw up in here?"

"One," I started, "I'm cleaning up your fucking mess, a thank you would be nice. And I've got a candle burning in my bedroom, that's why it smells like a bath and body works store threw up in here."

"What mess?" He questioned, looking around to see no mess.

"Nothin' of the sort," I shrug sarcastically, "Just, you know, your beer bottles, your syringes, smashed beer bottles. Nothing much."

His body stiffens and he stares at me for a second.

"Charlie—"

I put my hand up to stop him from speaking, "Please don't, I don't wanna hear your excuse. It's your problem, not mine. I don't control your life. Enjoy your beer, though," I exhale, grab the handle of the vacuum and sweeper and stuff it in the closet.

I walked back into my bedroom and shut the door loud enough for him to know I was pissed and laid back beside strawberry who snuggled closer.

"Do you think we'll ever leave this shithole, strawberry?"

I didn't pay a lot of attention to the loud speaking down the hallway, telling myself it didn't matter. I closed my eyes to stop the tears from leaving my eyes.