The Hands Of Time Strip Youth From Our Bodies

I woke from my nap to see an empty room. Jimmy must have gone home with the news that I was better. Not caring anymore about me welfare. He's probably back at his house in Huntington drink beer and rolling in the money from their first two albums.

I was about to close my eyes and try to fall back to sleep when I heard the metal door slam. The noise made my heart skip a beat. I slowly turned my head to see someone that I really wish I hadn't. I wish that I just ignored the noise and fallen back to sleep. But to bad for me human instinct kicked in.

"What are you doing here?" I tried to narrow my eyes at him.

"Wha… you're awake," Zacky stammered.

"No shit Sherlock," my voice was raspy from lack of use this past week.

"I was just… is Jimmy back?"

I rolled my eyes, not that he could see because I was laying on my back starring at the sickly white ceiling.

==Zacky's POV==

I shook my head. Wow, we really messed things up between us. So much so that she will not even say hi, or in this case, even look at me.

I starred down at my scuffed converse.

"What do you mean 'is he back'?" I heard Araila's soft voice say.

I looked up to see her still starring at the ceiling. "He's been here all week, fucking worried sick about you."

I watched her turn her head to look at me, "All week?"

I nodded, "you do know he really does love you right?"

She sighed deeply. "You're talking out of your ass Baker, he doesn't care. If really did then he would have taken me with him or he would have stayed. Since he did neither, it is pretty fuckin' clear that he could give a rat's ass about me, or mom.

I just shook my head and resumed my gaze at my shoes. She is a difficult one. Once one, always one.

I sighed and ran a hand threw my black hair. "You just don't get it do you?" I said opening the door to leave.

I heard her laugh, but didn’t bother to turn around as she gave me an answer. I slammed the door and rubbed at my face.

"What's up Zack?" I heard Jimmy call.

I ceased my rubbing and looked at my friend. "She's awake, but I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

He chuckled, "What did you do this time?"

I frowned, "I didn't to anything, your moron sister just pisses me off. I think I upset her though."

He rolled his eyes. I always insult Araila so it was nothing new to him. I guess I should try to be more understanding or something. There is just something that I hate to love about that girl.

==Araila's POV==

"Hey Lea," I heard my name being called from the doorway. I painfully lifted myself up so I was leaning back on my elbows.

"You feeling OK?" he asked as he made him way to sit next to me on my bed.

I shrugged, "How would you feel if you had three bruised ribs, black eye, and numbers cuts and scratches all over your body?" I tilted my head to the side.

He chuckled to himself, "honestly I would feel like complete shit."

I joined in with his laughter.

"Araila,"

I shot my attention to him. He rarely called me by my full name.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"I have something to ask you." He said slowly, as if you was thinking before every word. "I am making the offer if you want to stay with me. You know so this doesn’t happen ever again."

I jaw literally dropped my chest; I couldn't believe what he just said.

"What?" I wanted to make sure I wasn't dreaming so I pinched myself hard in-between the fingers. I cringed at the presser point.

"Do you want to move in with me?" He said more clearly and confidently.

I nodded like a maniac. Of course, I wanted to go with him, but will he leave me like he did before? I love him but he lost my trust and some of my love. I still loved him dearly but not like I did before the, incident.

"Yes Jimmy, I would love to move in with you."

****

I packed my very few positions into an old duffel bag. Today was my last day on this shack. Jimmy was coming to pick me up and take me down to Huntington. He said that he had an extra room for me.

To be honest I'm not going to miss this place at all. I have too many scars to even consider staying. I'm not going to miss my mom's guys. I'm not going to miss the scraps of 'food' that I ate. I'm not going to miss the rags I wore. Lastly, I'm not going to miss my mom.

I had too many sleepless nights with her in the other room with the nameless, faceless men. Too many injuries, too many dirty water showers, too many narrow escapes.