Running With Scissors

I walked down the hall to the room Jayde had showed me earlier. I closed the door with a long sigh and closed all of the blinds. All sound and light had escaped the room. All except one- My breath, which seemed like a curse through my eyes. Life was a curse. Sleep was my remedy. The pills were my remedy.

My head hit the pillow, which felt like it was trying to smother me; I was falling asleep because there was no oxygen in my lungs, not because I was tired. The air was trapped outside. The air was outside, the emptiness inside. The emptiness inside...

I woke up in a cloudy manner with a raging headache. The room was dark, and my mouth was dry. I forced myself upwards, groggily mumbling to myself as I kick my feet over the side of the bed. I crept across the cold linoleum floor and opened the door leading down the hallway, a bright light illuminating from the end like the tunnel of death.

I could hear an angelic sound, like the sound of a mother singing to her newborn child. I followed the sound to the kitchen where I found Jayde singing to herself as she flipped through a magazine.

She looked up and blushed with a smile. "You're up!"

"Yea," I stated, wondering why she was staring at me so awkwardly. It didn't take long before I realized it and looked down to find myself standing in her kitchen in my boxers and a t-shirt. Nice. Real nice. "I'm just. Gonna. Go change," I muttered, embarrassed as I turned back down the hall and slid on some jeans.

I returned and she smiled brightly, obviously more pleased at my wardrobe. "Are we awake now," she asked cheerfully.

"Yea... Awake."

"There's food in the fridge if you're hungry."

I shook my head gently, trying to keep my brain from shaking around too much. “I’m not hungry,” I told her. “But, I’m just going to grab a drink if that’s okay with you.”

“No problem, help yourself.”

I grabbed a glass and opened a somewhat empty fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice, selfishly finishing it off. I sat down across from her and noticed papers on the table. Not just papers. Bills. With letters in bold and crisping, yellowing corners. She noticed me gazing and them and quickly shuffled them under a pile of magazines.

"I have to go get ready for work," she stated.

"Oh yea," I muttered, turning pink.

She giggled, "Settle down- I'm a cocktail waitress, not a whore."

"But you said-"

"I said what I thought would make you stay," she responded seriously. She was standing by the corner of the room, looking at me sympathetically. Then she quickly looked away and continued with what she was doing.

"What else was said to get me to stay."

"Um... I don't know."

"So all that stuff you said about school… That wasn't real," I asked, feeling relieved.

"No," she stated simply. "It wasn't all fake, Ace. Life isn't that grand."

"Oh."

"Well, I need to go. We can talk later."

“When will you be back?”

“At closing time.”

“When’s closing time.”

“Well, when did bars usually close in Ohio?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I told her. “I never went out.”

“Well, depends… Sometime between two and four.”

“Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Yea, but coffee was invented for a reason. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright,” I sighed.

“Hey, did you want to come by sometime later?”

“No,” I answered. “I think I’ll just stay here. I’ve got a bloody headache.”

“You still get them often?”

“Yup. That’s the price to pay for keeping yourself sane with meds,” I stated dully.

“Anyways, I should go. I’ll see you later, Ace.”

I nodded as she waved, stepping out the door as I waved back.

I knew I could help; I had money. It wasn’t much, at least not a lot after the plane ride here. But it was enough- Enough until I could get a job. I could use the money I had to help her. I would do everything I could to get things straightened out. And if I was lucky, and I didn't screw up my one last chance, maybe I could make this work. For both of us.