Dove and Grenade

I excused myself from a silent dinner with Charlette and Aron, knowing there was plenty they wanted to say but not in front of me. I didn't even know why I was there. I'd picked at my dinner and not really eaten it. I'd emptied my alcohol, and I'd sat there staring at my food for at least a half an hour. Finally I sighed and took my dishes into the kitchen, then I disappeared upstairs.

I flopped down on my bed. My room was so empty. Everything I could fit into my two suitcases, I did. I chewed on the inside of my lip and looked around. The distant sound of squealing tires and laughter could be heard through my windows, and I let a smile cross my lips.

The good ol' hood.

I closed my eyes and lay back on my bed. I was going to miss being in a bed of my own for awhile. As I lay there, I tried to convince myself I wasn't going to be staying with Alex for too long. The minutes rolled by, though, and I knew I was lying to myself.

Jorel had been right. Jorel was always right. Well, almost always. I turned onto my side and hugged my knees to my chest.

This is just for a little while. I took a deep breath. Only a couple weeks, max.

A sob escaped my lips, and I shook my head. I didn't want to be with Alex. I didn't want to see Alex. I didn't want to be near Alex. I sure as hell didn't want to have any sexual relations with him ever again.

Oh, god, I'm such a fuck-up.

I turned over and buried my face in my pillow. I sucked in deep breaths, hoping the down feathers would escape the pillow case and suffocate me. I had never wanted so bad to go back in time and fix all of my fuck-ups.

I felt sick. I wasn't sure it was the four cups of straight Jack I'd had either. I sat up and clamped a hand over my mouth as I ran to the bathroom. I almost didn't make it before I threw up everything in my stomach.

I sat in the bathroom, my head hanging over the bowl and my arms clutching the sides of the toilet. I could feel a couple tears running down my cheeks as I continued dry-heaving. I took one of my hands and put it on my forehead, sobs now uncontrollably surging through my body.

A soft knock on the door caused me to look up. Aron stood in the doorway, a somber expression on his face. He clenched his jaw, and I looked away. A second later, he crouched down beside me and put his arms around me. He didn't care that it smelled like puke or that I was shaking as the tears fell from my eyes.

"Shhhh..." he said, running a hand over my hair.

"I c-can't...Aron...he's- he's- he's..." I sobbed, unable to form coherent sentences.

"Kara, shhh, it'll be alright," said Aron.

"I- I- I don't want-t..."

My sentence ended there, and I fell into a fit of crying and shaking again. I didn't get up from the floor, and I don't remember ever leaving the floor. I can only assume I cried myself to sleep, looking at the vomit and tears in the toilet, and that Aron had moved me to my bed.

Because that was where I was when I woke up the morning I was to leave.