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Give me everything I’d ever secretly wanted, and I still wasn’t satisfied? Pluck me out of the life that was legit killing me and give me somewhere safe and warm with books on the shelves and food in the fridge, where I had zero excuses, and Istillcouldn’t pull it together? I was actually mentallyworse?Good to know that all along, it wasn’t all the shit I was lacking that made me suck at everything, it was just me.
I dropped down on the couch and stretched out, slumping until my posture was just a memory. His couch was so fucking comfortable, and I had so much room. Too much.
Without his giant ass kicking around in it, this apartment was way too big and way too empty, and no one was making me peanut butter and jelly or cutting up apples or asking about my day at school, which was something that literally made up like one millionth of a percent of my life, but now my brain was demanding it like that was the lifestyle we were accustomed to. Like wedeservedthat.
God, my head hurt.
I wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong with me. I just knew yesterday had been good— like some crazy kind of good I hadn’t expected or even known about— and now I was back to being alone after school again. And while I should have been grateful or at least happy about after school snacks and a table to do homework on, and light and heat and no one telling me I was a stupid slut who didn’t belong here, I wasn’t feeling it.
After a lifetime of being numb to loneliness, it was hitting me full force.
It wasn’t like I wanted him to quit his job or anything. I just wanted him not to have one. I only wanted him to pay attention tomeand helpmestudy. Not a bunch of randos. Why should I have to share him? Why was a dumb job more important thanme?
Holy shit, I reallywasan ungrateful asshole.
I reached out and grabbed the remote off the table, pushing buttons trying to turn the damn thing on. I didn’t want to watch it, but I just couldn’t take the heavy silence anymore. It was so quiet I could hear electrical pulses and dust falling, and it was making me sick to my stomach.
It seemed like every fucking channel was news or murder or boring talk shows, so when it finally hit on cartoons I just left it there, letting high pitched voices and explosive sound effects that sounded more like what I was used to fill up the empty space, drowning out all the shit in my head I didn’t feel like hearing until I was mentally checked out.
* * *
I should have known I’d fall asleep, it was basically all I did here. Everything was soft and warm and comfortable, and my body just swallowed it whole every time I stretched out for five seconds. My sleep bank was so overdrawn it would take a decade to put it right, and collections were harassing me daily.
But a key in the lock had me scrambling like I’d dozed off in the middle of hiding a body, shaving a few years off my life. The front door opening when I wasn’t expecting it was some trigger shit, like tires on gravel, headlights sweeping the house, and in a twisted way, PTSD vibes were my comfort zone, it felt practically normal to sit up grunting and gasping and fastballing who-what-when-where-why-how at my half-awake brain.
Caleb’s place. After school. Just Caleb. Who wanted me here.
Unless he didn’t.
Watching him walk in and put his backpack down on the little desk by the door— where I could have sat and done homework, but didn’t— felt less like real life and more like a re-enactment, like I was in some kind of tv show, pretending at life instead of experiencing anything.
Part of it was from waking up wrong and part of it was… I wasn’t sure what. I just didn’t lock in sometimes. Shit got to be too much, and my brain headed to the sidelines, just letting me flounder. Fucking brains.
“Hey. Fall asleep?” he asked me, and it wasn’t an accusation, didn’t even sound like one, but my neck got hot and I got defensive like I wanted to fight anyway.
“Yeah. For a minute.”
“Did you eat anything?”
I rubbed my face, feeling disoriented and stupid. Lying would have been easy. But when did I ever crave the easy thing?
“Wasn’t hungry,” I muttered.
“Well, you must be hungry by now.” He didn’t seem angry like he should have. He seemed overly gentle, ridiculously mild, and I didn’t know why, and I didn’t like it. “Come on, let’s have a snack.”
Nothing about me being lazy or never listening, and I didn’texpecthim to say those things, but I didn’t know what elsetoexpect. My reference points were shitty and limited, and it was just so fucking quiet and blank and empty here without the arguing and the stress.
I didn’t understand why after all the lecturing and insisting and reminding, he just basically ignored me when I blew him off. Didn’t seem right at all. Didn’t seem like what aDaddywould do. So, maybe we were done with that game after all.
He walked over to the kitchen, and I got up and followed him, more just because my body decided it would than for any real reason. I felt sick and guilty like I’d made a mistake, nauseous in a robotic kind of way as I sat down at the table and watched him take two apples from the bowl in the middle and wash them off at the sink.
“Start your homework?” he asked me, another casual question, and I shook my head even though his back was to me. Didn’t really seem like he cared anyway.
“No.” I could have made up any kind of excuse, just saidNot yetorI will, but that’s not what came out.
“Okay.” He shut off the sink and turned around, putting one of the apples down in front of me. “Eat that. So you have something in your stomach. Then you can take down your pants for a spanking, and then we’ll have dinner.”
My hand froze on its way to picking up the apple, my heart slamming in my chest when relief flooded my nervous system, and I realized I’d been holding my breath, holding mybrain, waiting to see if he’d let me off the hook. If this was one of those promises that faded, if he was bullshit. He wasn’t. But now my anxiety and my adrenaline and something else I couldn’t quite place was skyrocketing, and I was feeling argumentative about it, I guess.
