I awoke to the soft steady patting of the rain on the window, it frustrated me, why? It didn’t matter; I fumbled in the dark, searching for my lighter. It took a couple of flicks until my dingy bedroom was illuminated by the harsh light of the flame. I stand my legs weak, I stumble on a discarded pair of jeans falling flat on my face, and I just lay there examining my room: the baby blue of the walls, ringing a polished wooden floor, I note the discarded clothing, and the band posters. I stand once again glancing at the clock by my bed. 03:27, I push myself up, ignoring that the lighter had gone out. I stumble back towards my bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes, kneeling down I reach under, batting aside a cricket bat and an unused textbook.

“bingo” I whisper pulling the small lockbox from under the bed, blowing the dust from its lid. I smile to myself as I rub the brand logo on its lid.

...He laughs as I splutter and cough, patting my back grinning. I look up at his auburn eyes, he ruffles my hair...

I take the key from its hiding place underneath the foot of my bed. Turning the key in the lock I try to keep the rusty hinges from creaking, but fail, I cringe as I slowly lift the lid. I stare at the contents, running my finger over the contents,

... I take my second drag, determined not to give him more cause to laugh at me. I splutter again, he laughs again as he takes the bong from me and takes a long drag blowing the smoke in my face, causing me to break out into more coughs.

“meanie” I splutter, through my coughs

“kitten” he mocks me blowing more smoke in my face

I lift the journal from the box, flipping it open staring at the photos inside, a tear roles down my check, it falls on my arm, I wipe it off frustrated with myself. I struggle to hold back the tears, soon the cascade down, I give a silent sob.

...I feel his finger on my face, wiping away my tears, I continue to sob,

“Why are you crying, kitten?” he asks me tenderly, taking my chin in his thumb and forefinger, turning my face up to his.

“It doesn’t matter its stupid” I go freeze as he wraps me in a hug, I grasp his shirt meekly, and burry my face in his chest, I sob as he holds me...

I sob more loudly again, I throw the journal to the floor standing, angry with myself, no enraged at myself, he was gone I had to accept it, he left me here all alone. What does that say about me? I go back to the box, removing a bong. I place it in my lips, flicking my lighter furiously, it didn’t work.

“Cheap pile of &$@^i” I yell as a hurl the lighter against the wall, the casing cracking. I ignore the groan from the next room, instead I start to lay into the wall, the bong falls from my lips, and I ignore it. Continuing to punch the wall, the wall held firm, but my knuckles didn’t, soon, the baby blue of the wall was a sickly red, almost black, in the dark room. “Why! Why! WHY!”I yelled repeatedly,

“Adam! Stop!” my dad yells from the doorway.

I stare sullenly from the counter of his kitchen, as he prepares pancakes, humming lightly, he turns his head flashing me a smile, and he winks. I continue to stare, in return he pouts a little, and I can’t resist the smirk that comes to my face as he flips the pancake in the air catching it on the pan, all without breaking eye contact with me.

I flinch as my father dabs the cotton wool on my knuckle, he glances up at me, a scowl on his face. Once he was finished I examine my hand, I try to scratch it but my dad grabs my wrist, stopping me.

“Adam, we need to talk about this.” My dad said soothingly

“No we don’t” I reply curtly

“Adam” I turn and stare him in the eyes ignoring the throbbing in my guts. “Adam, I’m serious it’s been a month, you don’t eat, you don’t leave your room and now this, as well as the drugs, your scarring us Adam, your mother and me don’t know what to do anymore”

“Leave it dad”

“No I won’t, Adam”

“Piss off” I stormed out of the bathroom, slamming my bedroom door closed. I glance at my blood smeared wall. I pick the bong up from the floor and stare at it. I smell it,

“Kitten, you should smile more it suits you” He winked at me, I beamed back, mouthful of his delicious pancakes.

I smirk and flick the bong into the box, it didn’t contain anything, it was just paper, ‘his’ idea of a little healthy non conformism, I should probably tell my dad.

I call out to him as I spot him across the street, he turn’s beaming, and waves back, he beckons to me, and I shake my head pointing at the café behind me, he smiles and takes a step onto the road. The breaks screech, as the bus driver swerves, too late.

He holds my hand the whole time in the ambulance, our gazes never parted.

“Kitten... I l...” he mutters as his eyes close. I cry as the paramedics pull me away, and begin to work on him again. By the time the ambulance reaches the hospital, it’s too late. The medic places his on my shoulder.

“He’s gone son” I say nothing, I just walk away when the ambulance stops, I keep walking until I get home a whole hour later, I ignore, the greetings of my parents, their angry yells as I enter my room, their concerned mutterings behind the locked door. He was gone. On the 17th of July 2011 he died, on July 17th 2011, my heart died.

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i don't know why the weird new line thing is like this, if anyone knows Help would be geatly appreacitated.

updated May 29 '11 by d-w