Tales From Another Broken Home

The next day, I woke up crying.

A lot of the details from last night were fuzzy, but that kiss stood out clearly in my mind. I did remember lying there after he kissed me until we saw the first beams of sun start to peek over the horizon, creating a faint orange and pink glow against the silhouette of the city in front of us, and Jimmy took my hand, pulled me up, and I got into his car. I probably should have been terrified that he was driving in the state that he was, but my own mind was probably fifteen times foggier than his, and at the time, I really didn’t even care that the possibility that something very bad could happen was the highest that it had ever been before in my entire life.

I remember spending the entire car ride in silence; the faint sound of a raw, and slightly nasally voice floated out of the speakers on the doors. I thought to myself about how I had never noticed a lot of things about my surroundings; how fast you moved in a car but you could still see everything pass by clearly, how the sunrise changed colors as the sun got higher, how the windshield of Jimmy’s car was smudged with fingerprints for some reason, how his lips turned downward into a perpetual pouty, almost cute, expression. At this point, I still found it funny that I had kissed those lips.

He helped me climb up through my bedroom window and into my room, which actually didn’t take much effort at all, I discovered I was surprisingly agile. I tumbled onto the floor, trying to brace my fall with my hands and elbows as to not wake my parents downstairs. I peeked out the window to get one last glance at Jimmy, but he was already in his car, driving away. I watched after him for a couple seconds, then realized I should be sleeping at this point, (well, I should have been sleeping all night, but that was beside the point,) and crawled into bed. I figured I’d just skip school today; I was sure that’s what Jimmy was doing too, anyway.

I remember waking up once, to the sound of my mother’s voice.

“Abigail!” she snapped, not completely jolting me awake like it would have before.

“Yes?” I said quickly; a response to being abruptly awakened. “What is it?”

I quickly figured out what she wanted, thought, and, trying to cover my ass, asked, “Oh my, what time is it?”

“It is seven in the morning, school starts in twenty minutes!” she snapped, hands firmly at her side, taking her usual “angry mother” pose. I tried to look as pale as I possibly could.

“Oh, mother, I am so sorry! I didn’t realize I had slept so late. I’m just so sleepy for some reason,” I said, trying to lay it on thick.

Her narrow eyes relaxed for a moment as she scanned me over.

“Are you feeling well enough to go to school?” she asked. I internally celebrated at convincing her through my ploy.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, trying to act as exhausted as possible. “I really didn’t sleep well last night, and I threw up! I thought I would be over it by now, but…I think I may have the stomach flu or something.”

I tried to sound surprised and dismayed, and she seemed to believe it.

“Well, I suppose you should stay in bed, sweetie, and get some rest. Just make sure to work extra hard so you can catch up on all the schoolwork that you missed once you’re better, alright?” she said, trying to sound loving.

“Of course, mother,” I said faintly, closing my eyes, and resting my head against the pillow. I heard the door softly close, and I was out.

I guess I had still been drugged then.

Because that’s what he did. He drugged me, and he knew it.

And that wasn’t even what I was the most upset about, which is really something to say, because under normal circumstances, I would be more than exceedingly distraught over.

No, I was upset that not only did he drug me, but he took advantage of me, took my first kiss.

I just sat there, still half blanketed by my bed sheets, trying to stifle the sounds of my sobs in case my parents were still home. I honestly didn’t know what time it was, I didn’t bother to check the clock, I didn’t have time before a wave of realization crashed over me, and I recalled last night’s events as if I was seeing them for the first time. After about five minutes, I calmed down, and let my head hit the pillow, slightly exhausted from the constant crying. With tears still streaming down my face, I closed my eyes, and within just a few minutes, was asleep.

--

I woke up sometime in the middle of the night.

I didn’t bother to even check the clock; I honestly didn’t care what time it was. I just sat there, staring out my window, fixated on last night’s events.

How did that happen to me.

How could that happen to me.

I felt so betrayed.

So stupid.

So alone.

How could I have let something like that even form? Let alone go along with something as reckless as that! I, me, Abbey, the goodie girl, the one who never did reckless things, who obeyed her parents, and would never dream of doing anything like what I just did last night.

And yet, it happened.

I felt so lost and alone, like I was the only who was feeling like this. While everyone in California was sleeping soundly, with no guilty conscience about how terrible the things they just did were, I was awake. Awake, and alone.

I had no real friends, and the only person that I had managed to really talk to in Jingletown manipulated me into being someone I’m not. I was disgusted; by him, and by myself for letting him take control of him so easily. I should have listened to my gut feeling from the beginning, and realized that he was a bad idea.

He was dangerous.

He was dangerous, not just because of the way he lived, or his morals, or values, or friends, or activities, but because he was a bad influence on me.

I knew that if I kept on seeing him, things would escalate even further down that bad path. I knew that events similar to last night’s would repeat themselves, and I knew that I would get deeper and deeper into trouble, and deeper and deeper into regret, and despair, and that lonely, alone, helpless feeling like I was feeling now.

That’s when I had a realization.

I had to make a decision.

I had to make the decision that I could not see Jimmy anymore.