Retelling what happened to Kylie had been tough, but I had glossed over it with Ashlynn. Even from there, I continued after Kylie's death. Maybe I went too far, or maybe I felt I had needed to vent to someone, but she had sat so quietly - as though she wanted to listen to more. I hadn't been quite sure, but I went on anyways.
+++++
"Aiden, get your ass out of bed! It's almost four." I heard my mom yell from what I guessed to be her room, not that I cared any. "Aiden!"
What time was it? What day was it? Why did I even care? Why did any of those things matter, to begin with?
As though my bones were made of stone, I struggled to push myself up as my ratty hair hung over my face. What was that smell, Malt? Weed? Sitting, I looked around to see various empty packs of cigarettes, clothes, and even a few bottles of beer that I hadn't even attempted to hide. I could only wonder, had I missed anything worth a shit? I mean, the better question was, what was still worth a shit?
What exactly was worth a shit to me anymore? What exactly had I given a shit about when I literally hadn't given half a shit about myself? As everyone knew, if someone hadn't given a shit about anything, then their opinion was always invalid - rather, they themselves, are invalid. I was a fucking invalid, and didn't really give a shit. Not about that, and definitely not about myself. But as they say; those who stand for nothing, fall for everything.
"Shut the fuck up." I ripped my door open with my shirt halfway on. "Go blow another dumpster diver, or something."
"You seriously going to speak like that to your own mother?"
Splashing my face with water, I gave a loose grin. "Honestly? I couldn't give less of a fuck, about you or what you do. I'm done with all of you."
Grabbing my skateboard, I made my way out of the house and launched off in the same of black jeans I had worn days in a row. Had it really mattered how I looked? Not like I was trying to look good for anyone, and sure as hell not for myself. Speeding along the sidewalk, swerving around the walking pedestrians, an old man covered in tattoos put his arm out in front of me. This forced me to jump off, sending the board into his shop.
Walking forward, he had reached his hand out, as though he had wanted to shake mine. Looking along both of his arms and over his chest, he was covered in ink. All of it had seemed to be high-quality, too. Reaching out, I sarcastically shook his hand, over-enthusiastically smiling like an idiot, because why not? Leaning over he picked what appeared to be a nice skateboard with a pair of pretty messed up trucks on it.
"You see, I already bought the Trucks or whatever they're called, but I have no idea how to put them on." he stated to me, handing me the board. "Told my son I would get it fixed, but I have no clue what I'm doing."
"Yeah, and what exactly do you want me to do, old man?" I asked.
"Put 'em on, if ya' know how. Kinda guessing ya' know how, given the way ya' were riding yours." he clicked his tongue as nodded at the board that was still in his shop. "I can pay ya' or give ya' a tat, if you can handle that."
Walking past him, I headed into his shop and went behind the counter to get my own skateboard. Should I have done it for him, what exactly was I getting out of putting in work for someone I hadn't even known? Besides money or a tattoo, had their been anything I was missing? The old man had been a fool, he had offered a tattoo for something as small as replacing the trucks?
"How about a sleeve?" I grinned, fully expecting him to refuse.
He laughed. Clearly, he had been around a while and had known exactly what I was doing. Yet, his smile had said otherwise. It had been gross, how people could smile like that, without a care in the world or worrying about being judged. Had it been his age that made him so thoughtlessly, or did he just not really care much about others but liked to smile?
"Sure, swing by this weekend. We'll get your design worked out, and maybe start it if we have time." he had surprisingly agreed, as he took me into the shop. "I go by Tinman around here, 'bout ya'?"
"Cyrus." I looked up into the sky. "Yeah, Cyrus."
A quick twenty minutes had passed before I had finished the skateboard for him. I had slowed it down some to make it look a little fair, but he likely saw through that anyways. As I had been about to leave the shop, he called me out and ran up to me, appearing to hold something in his hand. Reaching up around my neck, I realized what he picked up - it had been something that had a knack for falling off at times. Well, other than my personality, that is.
"Sorry 'bout that. This looks like it might be important to ya', kid." he stroked his goatee as he dropped a cheap, gold necklace into my hand. "Glad I was able to catch up to you."
"It was my girlfriends." my fist began to grip it tightly. "Yeah...let's just say she gave it to me."
Dropping my board, I set my foot on top of it just as he spoke. "Ya' okay, kid? Looking a little pale."
"I'm fine, old man." I shook my head. "Just some bad memories, is all."
**
Another twenty minutes passed before I had reached where I was going - Hurricane and couple friends had been throwing a bit of a party at the skatepark - a place the police avoided and a place where caring went out of the window. It was all fun, and no drama or fighting. It was the place I needed, I needed to get away. I need to find something else, someone else. I needed anything.
I needed anything that would accept me.
It'd been a full week since Kylie died, and nothing had changed. I still felt like I was being crushed, like I was being impaled on something. I slept and slept, drank and drank, and smoked much more than I was able to keep track of, yet all of it had stayed the same. Nothing left, or got better. I was still drowning, deeper and deeper. It wouldn't stop. Soon, the Reaper would've been calling my name.
What would Kylie have wanted for me? Should I have just stained my bedroom wall in red and followed after her as soon as I could? Would she have wanted me to die with her, or would Kylie have wanted me to live and move on? Knowing her, she would have said the latter, but what if I wanted to be selfish and follow her? I was done with losing everything. Every moment without her was another moment, another day closer to dying.
"Yo! Cyrus!" Hurricane yelled from the bench.
Kicking my board up, I grabbed it and sort of half-jogged down the steep hill to where they had been sitting. All of them had looked at me, some faces I had known and others I hadn't. Two faces I had noticed right away were Kylie's blonde friend and Maggie, who were speaking to each other. Hurricane and his girlfriend had been there, and the rest had either been acquaintances or complete strangers. I honestly assumed this party was going to be bigger, especially knowing Hurricane.
Picking up a Four Loko from the ice chest, I cracked it open before setting it on the table.
"Cyrus, I heard about your girl." he had spoken seriously for once. "I'm sorry, man. I wish there-"
Grinning, I sighed loudly enough for everyone to hear. "What kind of party is this? Looks more like a fucking funeral to me."
Maggie cleared her throat, bringing my attention to her. She looked like shit, honestly - worse than even I did - and I had been in pretty bad shape myself. Her eyes were red, and her makeup was near non-existent. As I studied everyone else, they hadn't looked to be all dressed up either. Instead, they had all been calm and quiet. What the hell was this? What the fuck kind of bullshit was this? Why did this piss me off so much? Why had I felt like I was about to fall apart?
"You didn't show up to her funeral, even though you were invited. You haven't gone to school or even come outside since she died." Maggie took several small steps. "Whether you want to believe it or not, there are people who care about you, and want to make sure you don't do something stupid."
Lighting a cigarette to make up for my lack of words, I had been at loss for words. I wasn't happy or sad, and I wasn't angry or depressed. I was just royally fucking pissed. It hadn't been about the people there, or even the subject, I just didn't appreciate being lied to. If they wanted to talk about her, they could have done it. Just without me. Why would I have wanted to talk about Kylie? I missed her funeral because I didn't want to face the truth, I missed her funeral because I didn't want to see her lifeless body again with my own eyes.
She already haunted my minds every thought and dream. All I ever thought about was her and what I had done wrong. It was all my fault. If only I had just said no, then this get-together wouldn't have happened. If only I had said no, then she would still be alive. Everything I saw, everything I felt, everything I was had been a direct result of my own actions. My own inability to say no had caused all of this.
What did I have to say for all of this? Sorry. I would have destroyed the earth to bring her back, I would have commit genocide to bring her back, and I would have eliminated my own existence from history to bring her back. I would've done anything, and I would have gone to any length to bring her back. However, as we all knew, that was impossible. Wholly, regretfully impossible.
"Isn't this something stupid?" I asked, chugging down the Four Loko. "I appreciate the thoughts and feelings, but what's the point of this, again? You mourned at the funeral, you mourned while trying to sleep at night. Good for you, but that isn't something I can do."
"Bullshit. You know Kylie would hate to see you like this." I had been slightly taken aback by her own comment. "You're not fine, Aiden. Look at yourself in a mirror."
"That's going to change anything?" I shook my head, smashing the beer off of the bench. "You guys say you care about me and want to make sure I don't do something stupid, right? Then tell me what the fuck I'm here for."
The tension quickly reached a maximum, leaving the group in a bout of silence. They claimed so much, yet they had so little to say now. Had it become clear to them, just how broken I was? I snapped, and the some. I hadn't been the lonely emo version of Aiden anymore, I was just a version of him that was drowning in a real darkness, with real weight pulling him even deeper.
"Aiden...look around you." Maggie spoke again, butchering the tranquil silence. "Even at your awkwardest, is this how people looked at you? Did they look like they were scared for you?"
Lifting my head, I looked around from person to person. What exactly had I been looking for, being judged? That was all that I saw - judgement - just like the rest of them. Once again, my life fell apart, but now I was the only one left to be judged for it. I was the only one left with the aftermath of it. I was the only one left to live with myself. The one person who truly loved what I was disappeared so quickly, so unfairly, and so fucking cruelly.
How could I not have been crushed, inside and out? I was alone. Nobody understood what being alone felt like. Everything and everyone had been so far away; every little thing eats at you, chomps at you. You slowly start decaying physically, mentally, and emotionally. It breaks you little by little, until you fall into that pit of darkness. That pit of darkness had been my enemy - being alone. It had been gnawing at my ankles, slowly. It was pulling me in.
I was crashing and burning. I didn't have an answer for anyone, anything, or myself.
"What do I do, then?" I took a drag of the cigarette, my voice had clearly begun to give me away - shaking like a damn earthquake. "I wake up everyday feeling like there's a goddamn hole in my chest. I can't fucking take it anymore...
Tell me, Maggie. What do I do?"
"...Aiden."
ns 15.158.61.51da2
