I woke in night beside you only to find you were gone just like I have known since the day they arrived at my doorstep

Once awake I leave this home with only the drafts you left behind

To wake my sleeping soul I drive down the road fast

I’ll find somebody again maybe I just need to stay awake until I am awaken

“So, this morning when you woke up and read my text that said ‘hey can you pick me up today’ you thought I meant literally pick me up?” I ask. “Well yeah,” Jackson finally sets me down on the ground. “You didn’t think I meant pick me up in your car because I’m out of gas?” I straighten out my hair. “You can at east drive me to school now, right?” “I’m out of gas,” he shrugs. “Get somebody to pick you up.” I almost killed him right there in that moment, instead I just stormed off.

“I have held many things in my hand, and I have lost them all. I held my mother so tight as a child, and lost her at the hands of my father. I held onto my father and his riches, until that two was lost at the hands of my father. He ended his life when he lost his own riches which he held onto tightly. I held onto you, as the only person left in my life! And you want to leave me!” I screech at my sister. She cowers from the gun in my hand. Loaded and ready. All I have to do is pull the trigger. “You can’t leave me. And you can’t take her.” I twist on my heals the point the gun at my sister’s lover. “No!” my sister shouts and tries to dive for him. She’s seconds too late to protect him from the bullet in is leg. Straight threw the femur. My father taught me well. The man groans and my sister tries to assist him. I laugh lightly before becoming more angry. They aren’t even looking at me anymore. “I have enough bullets for all your bones,” I step forward to stand in front of the couple. “Walk away from here. Leave my sister, and maybe I’ll leave you. You may help him up sister.” She pauses and I point the gun at her. “Help him up.” The two climb up together, using the wall and each other for support. “I love you,” she whispers once he’s standing and slowly releases him as he hobbles towards the door. “See that wasn’t so bad,” I chuckle and point the gun at the back of the man. My finger contracts to pull the trigger and then… Darkness.

I drop the piece of metal to the ground. My brother lays on the floor and Marcus has crumpled at the door. He was going to shoot Marcus. He was going to. I didn’t have any other option. I grabbed the nearest object and held it tight. I had to do it. I rush to Marcus giving my brother a final glance. I don’t know if he’s dead or not. I don’t know if I want him to be or not. I put my arm under Marcus and help him stand. We leave this hell hole together.

I open the box slowly and the rust covered hinges creak like the floors in a horror movie. The curved lid requires the wall to be propped against so I scoot the chest farther back on the floor. It’s been ages since I’ve touched the dust contents of the chest. I reach my hand into the dimly lit box and pull out a ball. I toss it between both hands as the dust fall off the smooth rubber surface revealing the neon green below. The ball drops from my hands and bounces against the floor twice before rolling along the floor, slightly deflated. I watch it roll into a corner and pick up the next item. It’s a small Tupperware. The bin is square and mostly translucent so that you can see the legos crammed it under the red lid. I peel back the plastic lid slowly and find the cracks across the top to break a little more. I shuffle my hand threw the pieces finding them warm and some even broken. That’s most of what’s left on my time with my grandmother: broken pieces, and deflated toys.

I never know when to sleep. Should I sleep late into the morning because that’s what seems normal for my age? Should I wake up and rush around before the sun like most of my family. Should I go to bed in the morning and not wake up until night again? I could become completely nocturnal and I don’t think it would change my life much. Sure, school would be really hard to do if I was sleeping all day, but I would still study and do my homework. Socializing wouldn’t be impossible considering most of my friends are up with the moon. I would never see my family and this is what holds me back. Not because I can’t imagine never seeing them, I barely see them as is, but because I don’t want to know what it would be like if they never saw me. I don’t want to discover that it doesn’t really change their lives to only ever see my sleeping. I don’t want to discover that they probably wouldn’t notice for a month. I don’t want to confirm my pessimistic assumptions.

This is what so hard about being negative all the time. I don’t want to be right. I just hate to be unprepared for being right. I’m thinking it. Thinking my family doesn’t care or my grades are bound to plummet or my sister isn’t home yet because she’s wrapped around a telephone pole. I don’t want that in my head, it just conditional. I hope I’m wrong all the time, but I will never risk the horror of being right and being completely caught off guard.

“Cookie, bread, or pizza?” asks the waiter. “Don’t you have veggies,” I reply. “Cookies, bread, and pizza are all vegetarian, Anne. Don’t be a snob,” hissed Louisa. “We can do the bread without crust?” chimed in the waiter. I hate this city. I swear every restaurant serves bread as their main course. I love bread, I do, but I can’t just eat bread all the time. You are what you eat, you know? While bread is warm and tasty, it’s also dense and chunky. Not really my goals. “I’ll have the cookie,” I grumble. “I’ll have the combo of pizza and bread, thank you so much!” the waiter writes down Louisa’s order after mine and then nods before sauntering off. Louisa can get the bread and the pizza because she’s a literally stick, and she’s just visiting here. Louisa lives in Barlington where they mostly serve barley, beans, and kale at restaurants. Bread like is quite the opposite. Maybe I need to move.

Notes ring in my ears as I leave the theater. Just one more week of this. I don’t even have to do any of the singing, it’s just watching these kiddos mess up over and over and over. “Ms. Margret!!!!!!” somebody screeches behind me. I turn around sighing and my close escape. These kids are just energy energy all around, aren’t they? “Yes, sweetly” I smile. Or try too. “What wrong with your face?” the small child, Breanna, grimaces up from me. She’s not even really a small child, she’s 11. I readjust my mouth and let the smile drop further confusing Breanna. “What do you need, honey?” “You left your phone on stage,” she says and hands me what is indeed my phone. “Thank you, sweetheart,” I reply having completely forgotten it. “Go back to the show, sweetie, I’ll see you soon.” “Okay!” the child practically skips out of the foyer. Once she’s out of side I get back to my hobbling to my car, hopefully before the next contraction.

It came to me like snails come a garden: ready to consume.

It swallowed me up like a wave full of salt, burning and brushing.

It torn me in two like the plates of the earth when they tear down houses.

It broke me. Truly Shatter my soul into two halves.

The half that nobody will ever touch again, and the half that you keep locked away. It’s hidden in the dark wooden desk draw. You can feel it beat when you sit down. When you finally retire, you’ll leave it there, having forgotten about me in the rubble of your wake.

I don’t really go to parties. I’ve been to a party before, like, a really small party. But I don’t party. That’s why it took Melissa over two weeks to convince me to go to the end of the year senior party. Almost everybody in my grade is here at Blake’s house. Now, let me be honest, Melissa’s constant nagging isn’t the only reason I’m here. I overheard in English class that Berkeley would be here. I’m sure he’s at every party, but this is the last one of my high school career, so I see it as my last chance. I have no plans to do anything significant for attention at this party so that Berkeley would notice me, but just showing up seems like a great leap forward. “Melissa,” I hiss as we walk through the crowded entry room. I feel like everybody is staring at me. And it’s not just the anxiety, heads are turning. “Why is everybody looking at us?” Melissa is too confident to have noticed, but she looks around and then back to me. When her eyes glance over my face her mouth drops open. “What the fuck is on your face?” My hands go straight to my face but I have no idea what she’s talking about. “What? What? Do I have a bruise or something? Or a pimple?” Neither of those seem logical. “No,” Melissa grabs my hand and pulls me quickly to the kitchen where it’s pretty quiet. She whips out her phone and shows me my reflection in the camera. “You have spots, Amy!” She’s right. My entire face is covered with big blue spots. The don’t feel like anything other than skin. “Come on,” Melissa snatches back her phone, “I’m taking you to the hospital. And right at the worst moment ever, Berkeley walks in. “Hospital?” he butts into the conversation. “Who’s going to the hospital?” My back is towards him so he probably doesn’t even know it’s me. I could just run out and leave Melissa, but then she would tell him it’s me. Instead, I turn around to face him and he simply doesn’t react. My brow furrows and Melissa’s eyes narrow. “I have spots,” I say. “She has spots!” Melissa urges. “First party?” Berkeley asks. I nod, very confused. “Yeah, happened to me my first time too.” “Didn’t happen to me,” Melissa says at a much higher pitch than normal. “You have older siblings?” Berkeley asks Melissa who nods. “They probably threw a party at your house when you were younger. You hit your first party before your brain was formed. Tons of fun.” “What do I do?” I whisper. By some miracle Berkeley hears me. “Just have a soda and pretend like it isn’t there.” “Does this happen all the time?” Melissa asks. “A lot of kids have been to something party like a a young age and it went unnoticed, but if you have chill parents or you’re an only child with a babysitter you wouldn’t have the exposure. It’s first party syndrome.” Berkeley seems like an expert. He grabs he a soda out for he fridge and then swings his arm around me. “Drink. Let’s go meet some people.” “I know all these people,” I say and look to Melissa for instructions on what to do. “But you don’t know them at a party,” he smirks. “Vamos!” He leads me dramatically out of the kitchen and around the party taking me to multiple conversations. Everybody stares at my blue spotted face but eventually it seems to fade. Now everybody is just staring at Berkeley with his arm around me. We spend an hour walking around until we both get a little tired and slouchy on our feet so we hit the couch. Berkeley and I talk about college, and movies, and family, and all of the above until my eyes get droopy. I try to get up to find Melissa to take me home, but Berkeley says he’ll drive me. We tap Melissa on our way out and she winks at me obnoxiously. I glare into her soul until Berkeley and I are out the door. That was one of the tamest parties I’ve been to in my life, and since then I’ve never sauntered around with Berkeley or truly partied with Melissa like we were supposed to that night. But it was fun. It was a good first party.

I’ll never leave you, as long as you never leave me.

You’ll never leave me, right? Why would you want to?

I can give you everything you need. Just stay there, right there, and I’ll bring you the sun.

Now, you see, I went all this way just for you to have exactly what you want. You treat me so unfairly with nothing to give me in return.

You’re so ungrateful. Take your sun, let it burn your face so that nobody will ever want you. Nobody will ever want you.

Don’t worry. You’ll always have me.