Claustrophobic
03.
“Gordon’s gone out, and Tom’s at his friend’s house. What do you want to do, honey?” my mum asked me with a sweet smile on her face. My mum was pretty; I’ll give her that. Pretty, tall, and still quite skinny considering she’d had twins, even if it was fifteen years ago.
“I don’t know, Mum. Put a film on, if you like?” I said, accidentally yawning right in the middle of it. Sessions completely drained me physically and emotionally.
“What one? You pick.”
“Um,” I rolled off the couch and crawled along to the DVD cabinet. My eyes were drooping as I scanned the rows of titles, searching for one that I could sit through, just to make Mum happy. I gave up, and just picked the next film my eyes stopped at. “This one.”
“Honey, you look so tired.” she said, concern taking over her tone. “Oh, honey, I forgot! You like to be alone or sleep or whatever you do in that room of yours after you go to the doctor’s, don’t you?”
“No, it doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Go upstairs baby, we’ll watch the film tomorrow.”
“You sure?” I asked. She nodded. “Thanks, Mum.”
I climbed the stairs to my room. There were a lot of stairs – our house was pretty big. I walked past my old bedroom that I had shared with my brother with just a hint of bitterness and sadness. I couldn’t resist. I stepped onto his thick blue carpet, and spun around. His room gave no clue that I had ever shared it with him. The photos he had plastered on the wall in a narrow recess showed none of me, or of us, together.
I pretended like it didn’t matter to me, but I had to admit – it stung.
I’d forgotten that his bed was behind the door. I peeked around to look at it, thinking I could have a quiet, nostalgic giggle to myself about his unmade bed and crumpled sheets; mine had always been kept perfect, I remembered.
But he was sat on his bed cross-legged, his honey brown eyes staring straight at mine. He looked angry with me, probably for trespassing into what was now his room, and his room alone. His dreads were resting on his shoulder. His huge t-shirt was drowning him, the sleeves coming down to the elbows of his crossed arms.
“Tom,” I said quietly, trying to prise my eyes away from his.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room, Bell?” he spat at me, and I flinched back from his words, as if I could get away from the hate.
“You’re not supposed to be here, you–”
“Don’t tell me where I’m not supposed to be! Get the fuck out of my room, freak!”
“I don’t know, Mum. Put a film on, if you like?” I said, accidentally yawning right in the middle of it. Sessions completely drained me physically and emotionally.
“What one? You pick.”
“Um,” I rolled off the couch and crawled along to the DVD cabinet. My eyes were drooping as I scanned the rows of titles, searching for one that I could sit through, just to make Mum happy. I gave up, and just picked the next film my eyes stopped at. “This one.”
“Honey, you look so tired.” she said, concern taking over her tone. “Oh, honey, I forgot! You like to be alone or sleep or whatever you do in that room of yours after you go to the doctor’s, don’t you?”
“No, it doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Go upstairs baby, we’ll watch the film tomorrow.”
“You sure?” I asked. She nodded. “Thanks, Mum.”
I climbed the stairs to my room. There were a lot of stairs – our house was pretty big. I walked past my old bedroom that I had shared with my brother with just a hint of bitterness and sadness. I couldn’t resist. I stepped onto his thick blue carpet, and spun around. His room gave no clue that I had ever shared it with him. The photos he had plastered on the wall in a narrow recess showed none of me, or of us, together.
I pretended like it didn’t matter to me, but I had to admit – it stung.
I’d forgotten that his bed was behind the door. I peeked around to look at it, thinking I could have a quiet, nostalgic giggle to myself about his unmade bed and crumpled sheets; mine had always been kept perfect, I remembered.
But he was sat on his bed cross-legged, his honey brown eyes staring straight at mine. He looked angry with me, probably for trespassing into what was now his room, and his room alone. His dreads were resting on his shoulder. His huge t-shirt was drowning him, the sleeves coming down to the elbows of his crossed arms.
“Tom,” I said quietly, trying to prise my eyes away from his.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room, Bell?” he spat at me, and I flinched back from his words, as if I could get away from the hate.
“You’re not supposed to be here, you–”
“Don’t tell me where I’m not supposed to be! Get the fuck out of my room, freak!”
♠ ♠ ♠
Just a bit of a filler, so you get the idea of the twins' relationship. (:I should probably mention, since the longest string of German words I can put together properly is "Sprechen Sie Englisch?", no one speaks German. xD
Anyway, comments? :)