Happiness For A Pessimist

I stood in the cold waiting for Miles to hurry and come pick me up. I pulled my hoodie tighter to my body as I blew out a breath of cold air from my mouth.

I giggled softly and pretended that I was smoking as I blew the air out, I looking down the street I saw Miles’ car coming down the street. I quickly stopped and waited patiently until he pulled up right in front of me.

I grabbed my bag off the ground and got into the passenger seat. “Thanks for the ride Miles.” I whispered, looking up to him.

“No problem,” he said begin to drive toward the school. “And don’t think I didn’t see you pretending to smoke.” He added.

I blushed and hid behind my hair and looking out the window. Miles chuckled and pulled out a cigarette lighting it up and taking a drag.

“You really want to smoke?” he asked looking at me momentarily. “Cause if you do, take some.” He said, holding the cigarette out to me.

I stared at him with wide eyes before hesitantly reaching for it. I put it between my lips and took a long drag, but soon began coughing. Deciding that smoking was not fun, I handed it back to him, grabbing the water bottle next to me and chugging it down. Taking deep breaths to re-air my insides.

“Meanie.” I mumbled under my breath.

“Whatever.” Miles said turning on the radio to some pop station.

We remained silent as I gazed out the window but then a song came on, a certain song by a certain person. I listened to the song, everything I ask for and sighed softly resting my head on the window wishing Miles would turn it off already.

But Miles wouldn’t turn it off, he loves and I mean loves The Maine. “You ok?” Miles asked glancing over to me.

“Peachy.” I mumbled as we pulled into his usual parking spot.

“If you don’t like listening to them then tell me.” Miles said getting out of the car.

I quickly gathered my things and trailed after him, “You should know by now Miles.” I huffed, trying to keep up with his fast pace.

“I should know what?” he hissed suddenly stopping and turning around to face me. He looked down at me and suddenly I hated being so fucking short.

“Haven, you tell me absolutely nothing. Ever. All I know is that you have something against the guys of The Maine and you act like I should know everything.”

“You should know because you’re my cousin!” I yelled feeling the tears rushing down my cheeks. “And you’re supposed to ask when something wrong but you never do.” I added wiping at my eyes.

Miles rolls his eyes, “Whatever.” He mumbled continuing toward the main doors.

I stomped my feet on the flood gaining the attention of a few bystanders before I walked into the main corridor and walking to the sophomore hall. I opened my locker and grabbed my biology book before walking to the science room.

-

The last bell rang loudly and everyone in my English class quickly ran out the room ignoring the teacher as she gave us our homework assignment. I quickly followed behind everyone hurrying to my locker. I took out all my books getting only what was necessary. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I quickly pulled it to see a text from Miles.

Can’t drive you home, got detention.

He’s been avoiding me all day since our stupid fight this morning. I bet he got that detention on purpose just so he wouldn’t have to be in a car with me for 15 minutes. I quickly closed my locker and hurried home.

-

I finally arrived at home, after walking for almost an hour and fumbled with the keys, trying to open the front door. My dad’s car was in the driveway and I was already 30 minutes late.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside the empty house. I couldn’t hear my dad anywhere as I walked into the living room.

I entered the kitchen and there was my dad taking a shot of Jack. I frowned slightly at the sight, he became an alcoholic since mom’s death and it just gets worse and worse each day. My dad turned around and faced me still holding his glass. Which was not a shot glass, might I add.

“You’re late.” He stated.

I bit my lip and looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I had to walk.”

“What happened, Miles got tired of you?” he sneered stomping over to me. He grabbed the front of my shirt and pushed me against the wall. I gasped at the pain that shot through my spine and closed my eyes. “What’s wrong faggot?” he hissed.

I tried not to cry and opened my eyes. “Nothing.” I managed to say. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He threw me to the floor and kicked me in the ribs; I felt something crack inside me and I released a sob. “Don’t fucking cry, it’s pathetic.” He hissed and walked off.

I rolled onto my back and pushed myself off the floor. I listened as my father slammed the front shut and soon I heard his car pull out the driveway.

I picked myself off the floor trying not to pay attention how much my ribs were killing me. I crawled up to my room cursing having to climb the large grand staircase. I entered my room and slammed my door shut before pulling my shirt over my head and staring at my torso. I touched the forming bruise and winced at the pain.

I glanced over to my desk staring at the small box my mother gave me when I was a child. I debated in my head weather I should or should not. I limped toward the small wooden box opening the lid and listening to the small melody. I smiled softly and reached for the delicate razor lying there waiting for me.

I walked to my bathroom and slowly close the door behind me resting against the bathtub. I pressed the razor to my arm and let go of the breath I was holding when I felt the pain, watching the blood trickle down my arm.

This is what I’ve come to live for.