Shadows

Two new babies.
Two new babies, Thomas and Matthew.
Two new babies, Thomas and Matthew who do not sleep.

I lay on the couch.
I lay on the couch, eyes heavy.
I lay on the couch, eyes heavy until my mother screams on the floor.
I lay on the couch, eyes heavy until my mother screams on the floor, hallucinating.

I jump.
Alex jumps.

“Jesus Christ, another one?” Alex grumbles sleepily.

Alex has not slept.
Alex has not slept along side of me.

Dark circles hang under his eyes.
Dark circles hang under my eyes.

The same.

He yawns.
I yawn.

A baby cries.
Mom cries in pain on the floor.

I flinch.
I flinch, falling back into Alex.

I squeeze my eyes shut.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping like hell that the hallucination will go away.

She keeps screaming for me.
She keeps screaming for my help.

Alex grips my hand tightly.
Alex looks at the clock.

“Alright, come on. You need to sleep.”

Alex leads me out of my house.
Alex leads me across the street.
Alex leads me inside of his house.

His house is quiet.
His house is spotless.
His house is lived in.

The living room is full of expensive electronics.
They look untouched.

The living room is full of expensive couches.
They look untouched.

The living room is full of expensive vases.
They look untouched.

Alex is dead silent as he leads me upstairs.
Alex is dead silent when we reach the top.

It feels like I am in another house completely.
It feels like I am in another house completely, this one vacant.

The walls are bare.
The floor is dirty.

Our footsteps echo through the hall.
Our footsteps echo through the hall, not one object there to catch the sound.

“You can just lay down and get some sleep.” Alex holds his bedroom door open.

His room is blue.
His room is comfortable.
His room is lived in.

I sit on the edge of his bed.
I sit on the edge of his mattress, which sits on the floor.

He digs around for something in his closet.

My eyes scan the posters on the wall.
My eyes scan the dirty clothes on the floor.

“Fuck.” Alex mumbles from inside his closet, after a small crash. “Okay, found it.” Alex says holding a CD in his hand. “This should help you sleep.”

This is the real Alex.
This is the sweet Alex.
This is the Alex who cares about me.

The Alex who holds my hand.
The Alex who hugs me.
The Alex who kisses me.

“Lay down.” He says, putting the CD into his stereo.

I lay down.
I lay down, frozen and uncomfortable.

“You look like a corpse.” Alex says, smirking. Acoustic guitars filling the air. “Get under the covers and sleep.”

I obey.
I obey, pulling the covers over my body.

His bed is soft.
His bed is warm.
His bed smells like Alex.

I close my eyes.
I close my eyes and sleep.

&&

I open my eyes.
I open my eyes and listen.

I hear yelling.
I hear yelling and smashing.
Alex is yelling.
Another male is yelling.

I sit up.
I sit up in Alex’s bed.

“Morning.” Alex smiles at me, ignoring the blood dripping out off his lip. “There’s a notebook on the table.”

Alex pulls his shirt up.
Alex wipes the blood on his shirt.
Alex throws the shirt on the floor.
Alex pulls another shirt on his body.

‘Did your dad do that?’

“My dad’s in jail. My mom’s boyfriend did this to me.” Alex wipes his lips with the back of his arm.

He says it like he doesn’t care.
He says it like it’s normal.

This is normal for him.
This is why he hides.

Alex lies on his bed.
Alex lies on his bed, pulling me down next to him.
Alex lies on his bed, pulling me down next to him putting and arm around me.

“Get some sleep.” Alex yawns and hits the lights.

I am Carson McCoy.
I am afraid for Alex.