I Can't Tell You I Love You

After about an hour I was finished. I had five rags that used to be white but were now a filthy blackish color. I threw them into the trash can and opened the fridge. There was a lot of beer, some pop and water bottles, some leftover chicken from KFC I got yesterday and some old, rotting fruit. There were some microwave food stuff in the freezer, a few TV dinners and stuff like that. I grabbed a chicken nugget TV dinner and put it in the microwave and then pulled out a mountain dew and opened it. I put my pop on the dining room table. It was wooden but nicer then most stuff in the house. One of the three light bulbs was burnt out. I walked out of there and into the hallway. I pulled out my key and unlocked the door on the right and there were stairs going up. I went up and threw my backpack on my bed. I hurried down the stairs and shut and locked the door again. This was my room, the only clean thing here. It smelled nice, like roses and other flowers. I had purple walls, I painted myself and a nice clean pink carpet. My room was the only one with nothing wrong with it, no stains on the walls or ceiling, no stains on the carpet, it had all working light bulbs, nothing stinky or dirty here. The best part is Sheena never comes up here. She tries to when she’s drunk so she can hit me and yell at me but the door is always locked.
The bed set was one I bought on my own. It was colorful, splatter colors. I had got a plain white sheet and pillow cases and tons of paint and done it myself. I had queen size bed, a desk with a laptop - I also bought that myself and I pay for Internet and stuff - a large closet with a normal amount of clothes, three pairs of shoes - tennis shoes, black dress shoes and black boots - a bathroom which had blue tiled floor and white walls, I had perfect white towels folded on the shelve and I had soap and shampoo and conditioner, anything else I need. I didn’t wear make up a lot but I had it from birthdays and Christmas, not from Sheena, just from friends, ex-boyfriends and my aunt. My aunt loves me to bits and pieces, she’d do anything for me. Yeah, I know you’re probably wondering ‘Why don’t you live with her?’ Well it’s simple, I don’t want to make her feel any less of me or take me in because she feels bad for me and she has to much to handle already - just got out of an abusive relationship, has a very important job as a singer and she has to travel all the time - I don’t know if I could handle moving and changing schools all the time and I can’t go on tours with her.
So I just have to deal with living here in this crappy place with Sheena, the drunk, drug addict I can’t get rid of. Well I could get rid of her if I wanted. Get her some beer and drugs and she’s set to go out and party or find some guys. I don’t even know where she is half of the time. The only job she has is stripping and selling drugs, well she also works at a bar. She messed up her life. The only reason she got to adopt me is because she thought she could use me as a slave girl and she qualified somehow, I think she’s friends with the lady who works at the adoption place and she set it up so Sheena could get me. That lady - Miss Franny - didn’t like me because I spoke my mind and didn’t do what I was told. To put it easily, I was a bad kid and I did whatever I could to get into trouble. But I disagree! I don’t find trouble - trouble finds me! So it’s not my fault, well most of it was.
Knock, Knock, Knock. I jumped up from my bed, where I was reading a book that I just borrowed from one of my friends. “Who’s there?” I shouted down. No answer. “Hello?” I asked. I walked down to my bedroom door and unlocked it, then opened it. Nobody. Normally people I know just come in and knock on my door or if they were one of Sheena’s boys or one night stands they sometimes try to find her or try to get me to do...stuff with them.
I walked over to the front door and opened it. I know I didn’t check to see who was there but the worst that could happen is that someone could shoot me and kill me and I’m not really sure if death would be worse then living here. What do you think?
“Um. Hey. Sorry to bother you. I just needed to get my arm cleaned up and everything. Do you mind if I use your sink?” a boy around my age asked. He was standing there looking gorgeous. He had on some ripped jeans and a white shirt with some red design on it. It looked cool...Wait. That’s blood! Right then I noticed him holding his arm and the blood all over him. “Oh my gosh! Come in, hurry!” I said, rushing him inside and upstairs to my bedroom. I grabbed my first aid kit and a wet towel as he sat on my bed.
I cleaned up his blood and put some cream and everything on it. I wasn’t sure how to do any of this. “Oh. Here just take those bandages and wrap it up a few times. It’d be good enough.” he instructed me. I saw once the blood was gone that he was cut really bad on his arm - it almost looked like a cut from a knife. “How did it happen?” I asked as I finished with the wrap. “Oh just a fight I got into.” He said nonchalantly. “Just a fight?” I questioned him, pushing for more information. He looked up at me with adorable green eyes but it was like I could see passed the confused and cute puppy dog look he had and see all the pain he held inside. It was like I was staring into his soul, and it terrified me. He seemed so angry and sad at the same time, like he hated himself and everyone around him, I could tell how he just wanted to break down and cry but still punch someone in the face. He seemed alone, betrayed and I could completely understand his pain. Honestly, I could. As I pulled away to look at him better, I saw a cut above his right eye and one on his left cheek. He had a few bruises on his stomach and back, which I could see because he had taken of his blood soaked shirt.
“Why were you fighting?” I asked him. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him, why he was hurt. “OK. Well you seem like the kind of girl who knows about this stuff. That’s why I asked if I could come in and came here. I saw you at school once or twice and I knew that you lived around here...” he started. “Yeah...?” I pushed for more information. “Anyways, I’m a street fighter.” he told me. I nodded my head. “I tried that...once. I just couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t trained and I would get killed out there.” I informed him. He replied back saying, “Well it’s tough. I’ve been doing it since I was twelve. I’m sixteen now. But I’ve been taking self defense and classes like that since I was six.” “Wow.” I said back. “Wait. How did you know I lived around here?” I asked him remembering what he had said before. “Oh. Um. Well, it’s just, I’m friends with one of your ex boyfriends. Sort of. So I asked him about you when I saw you at the fights with him.” he continued on and on. “Oh. He just broke up with me today. But whatever, I couldn’t care less. It’s not like I loved him.” I said seriously. How can I be telling this to a complete stranger? I wondered. Then I sighed aloud. “That sucks. Were you at the fights just to watch him?” he asked. I nodded.
“Yeah. I go a lot but I’ve never seen you?” I hinted. “I just moved here. I travel. I live with my trainer. My parents died when I was young so where else was I supposed to go?” he said casually. “I know how that is. My parents didn’t want me - they left me when I was little. Then I got adopted by this crack head, Sheena. She hates me and only uses me as a maid. It sucks completely. That’s why the house is do nasty.” I informed him. He looked around, amazed. “Doesn’t seem like it’s dirty or nasty.” he said. “That’s just my room. I actually clean, Sheena doesn’t at all. I don’t think she ever has! She’s like some disgusting old hobo.” I joked. He chuckled and smiled at me.
“My names Kirk.” he said randomly. “Huh?” I asked. He really caught me off guard there. “I never told you my name - It’s Kirk.” he repeated. “Oh! I’m Tamara, but you can call me Tara.” I said smiling. “OK. Well I gotta get going. Henry - my trainer - is gonna expect me back soon. I’ll see you at school? Maybe we can hang out sometime, eat lunch together or something?” he told me. “Sure. Sounds great. I normally eat alone or with a few friends. I’ll be by the front of the school at lunch if you wanna come eat with me, you can.” I let him know. He nodded and smiled at me. “I’ll be there. See yeah.” he waved at me before walking downstairs. “Wait! I shouted. I ran over to him and wrote my number on his hand with a pen I grabbed from my desk. “It’s my cell phone number. Call me? I mean, if you need some place to get cleaned up after a fight or anything...” I rambled on. “Can I text you?” he interrupted. “Anytime. Hope your arm gets healed.” I said. “It’s going to need stitches but Henry will do that for me when I get there.” we said our goodbyes and he was out the door.