Not A Soul

I throw a tantrum, screaming and shouting profanities at Kellin, who wasn't anywhere near me. He never followed. He was too drunk for me to even expect him to follow me.

I stumble downstairs, and I grab the sharpest knife I could find. I run upstairs, knowing that if I trip I could seriously hurt myself. I couldn't care less. I push open my bedroom door, and I throw the knife. I scream, furious at Kellin. How could he do that to me? He knows how much I didn't want to go, yet he decides it is perfectly fine to pour alcohol down his throat. I wouldn't have cared if it didn't drastically change his personality. I wouldn't have cared if we were at the park. They way he touched me was just so rough, so heartless. I care so much about him, and the way he acts when he is drunk scares me.

I pull the knife into the air and back into the wall over and over. I can barely see because my vision is so blurred from my tears. I hate him, I do. I really do.

The hatred fills me, and everything in my room that is sitting out is forced to the floor. I throw away everything that reminds me of Kellin, not caring at all whether or not it breaks, and I fall to the floor.

I sob, and I curl into a ball of the floor. I try to calm down, but my anger rises again. I sit up and rip at the blankets on my bed. I claw desperately at the blankets, tugging and pulling, but they refuse to come off. They're stuck, and I scream some more, "Fuck!"

I fall asleep, sobbing, hoping desperately that this never happened.

"Curt, baby, wake up." My mother slowly runs her hand up and down my arm.

I look up at her, into her worried eyes. She presses her other hand to my cheek. "What did you do to your room?"

"I," I can't think of what to say. "I don't know."

"Oh, baby. You know I love you no matter what, right?" She helps me sit up, and she hugs me. Her embrace is warm, loving, and comforting.

She let me go, kisses my forehead, and she silently leaves my room.

Still sitting on the floor, I let the small silent tears slip down my cheeks.

Click, click, click, against my window, and I slowly lay down. The sounds continue, but I don't budge. After almost ten minutes, the sound stops. Downstairs, I can hear my mother saying something along the lines of "Good luck," and then footsteps up the stairs.

I shut my eyes tight, hoping whoever it is will just go away.

"Curt." It isn't Hanley or Bennett, like expected.

I groan, "Fuck off, asshole."

"Look, I was drunk." He stood with his left hand on his temple.

"That doesn't fix anything, so just go home." I refuse to look at him.

He sighs, "What the fuck happened to your room?"

"I was angry at you. How could you even think of doing something like that? Did you have to," I brought my voice down to a whisper, "touch me like that?"

He doesn't know, I understand, but I need to vent.

"If you care about me at all, just leave. You are such an ass for even thinking of using me. I'm not a whore, Kellin. Next time, just go by yourself. Maybe you will find someone there who will sleep with your sorry drunken ass."

I took it too far, but I was beyond angry. He deserves it.

The look on his face shows me exactly what he is thinking, so it isn't all that shocking when he yells at me. "Fuck you! I didn't come here for you to scream at me like my patents, alright? I came to see why you ran off, but apparently I'm too much of a fuck up to have even bothered. If you want me to just leave, maybe I will."

I didn't say anything. Instead, my lip quivers and tears escape my eyes. Silent cries turn into loud, obnoxious sobs, and I can't control them. Kellin's eyes soften slightly, and he tries to comfort me. I push him away, and I gasp in air.

"Curtie, please," he sighs, "You know I didn't mean anything I did. I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing."

I let him comfort me, since this was the closest thing to an apology. I need him to stay sane. I realize this, and I can only hope that he cares about me enough to not do this again.

I slowly calm down in his arms.

"Curt, I really don't like it when you are mad at me."

I relax into him, "I shouldn't have been so mad at you, but I don't want to feel like you are using me. You kept pushing and pushing me for sex, and honestly if we ever do go that far, I want it to be something we both remember. I don't want to feel like a one night stand."

It was quiet for a few minutes before I took a good look at my room. "You are definitely spackling my walls."