Camila/You Imagines

is it real? (Boy x Girl)

TW: has scenes of physical harm/abuse, suicidal and toxic behavior

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Silence.

That's all that had been in the air... absolutely nothing besides my steady breathing and the air conditioning blowing. Faint conversations coming from the TV outside of my small room where I shared a wall with my dad. He was probably sleeping, it was too quiet. That's all he ever did nowadays, sleep and complain about whatever his eyes could land on.

The silence was deafening and I hated how empty this two bedroom apartment was even if there were four people living here. But I rather have deafening silence than screams of pain and anger. Which was the only option besides this nothingness surrounding me. I stared at the white ceiling right above me as I tried to bask in the silence as long as I could. It never lasted. It was like a continuous loop that never ended, I was begging for it to end. I was so tired, so, so exhausted. The bags under my eyes weren't gonna go away anytime soon.

It had been almost twenty hours of since the last time I had slept, I was struggling to keep my eyes open. It was so quiet... so calming, yet so terrifying. But as I watched the dream catcher dangle I let my heavy eyes get the best of me. My tense, alert body finally slipping into an unconscious state in the middle of the day. My constant racing heartbeat, finally slowing down to a steady rhythm and flashes of an unknown dream appeared before me.

It didn't last. Nothing good lasted too long and I was waking up in a panicked gasp. I heard screaming again and a loud crash in the kitchen or in the living room and I immediately hopped out of my bed. The sun bright, shining right through my bedroom, illuminating everything but the outside of my door. I snatched the door open just peek my head around the corner to the living room. Just to see a whiskey glass shattered against the now wet carpeted floor and the wall with a decent sized dent in it.

My heart pounding just to see the clock illuminating the time on the the fake fireplace. I had only spent forty minutes asleep before all of this unnecessary drama happened. My body tense again as my dog rushed past me to run into my room, scared. I heard the man I was conceived by scream at someone through the phone. The slight slur slipping through and suddenly the phone was thrown across the room into the living room. I tried to calm myself as I walked into the living room where he was sitting on the couch, fidgeting angrily.

"What's even going on?" I sighed once more, it was routine now, and he just looked my way with dark, dilated eyes.

"Nothing." He spat angrily and I looked down at the glass and the Hennessy and Coke dripping down the damaged wall.

"Uh, yeah." I nodded and took a deep breath as I carefully walked towards the kitchen to start the clean up process.

My heart pounding in fear and anxiety while my brain was just so tired of everything. The rest of the two bedroom apartment was dark and concealed from the sun outside. I really just wanted to escape back into my room, feel the warmth, feel the silence again, I didn't wanna do this. But I picked up the dustpan and the vacuum just to hear the now shattered phone vibrating again. I could make out a few letters to know it was one of his girlfriend's calling. I ignored it with an eye roll just to walk out the kitchen.

But my short journey was cut abruptly when he angrily huffed my way and I raised my eyebrows at him, "Can't even get the fucking phone." He hissed and I looked back into the kitchen confused and back at him.

"Oh excuse me! I'll get it." He over dramatized and got up to shoulder check me as he walked past me to enter the kitchen.

The anger rose quickly but I kept my mind distracted as I leaned down to clean up his mess. As I was picking up glass shards I noticed the dark blue flashes of the tv going off from the bottom of my brother's door. He wasn't any better, he was always sleeping away his life with his girlfriend. I shook my head at it, I didn't want him up anyway, he always made things worse. He was such a hothead like our father, and they butt heads way too much for my liking. It was like breaking up dogs with lockjaw but multiple times a day for weeks.