Forelsket.

I’m seemingly unclear of the ‘fun’ alcohol can bestow upon a person. By the time I was yanking on Lindsays sleeve like a child trying to get a mothers attention, everyone in the room was drunk. It made me uneasy, and I didn’t really enjoy the way they fooled around with each other. John’s promise – if you’d call it that – seemed forgotten only minutes after he’d convinced me to step back into the house. I wasn’t mad – he wanted fun, and that was something I couldn’t promise with confidence.

And, Lindsay, it seemed, was no different. She had turned to me with a snarl set onto her lips and pulled her arm away from me. I felt small, standing under her gaze. I’d disturbed her. Tim, who had noticed the sharp twist of Lindsays head, looked at me. My face heated, and, more than anything, I just wanted to get out of there. In the background, half of the group were loud. I didn’t know what was so dangerous to me about laughing, but I supposed it was their hyper, uncaring nature. Their skin flushed with the influence of alcohol and the ‘fun’ it supposedly brought.

“What?” She growled at me, a beer loosely cupped by her hand, which was sitting casually on the counter. Tim beside her – across from them, Kai and Garrett. They had paid absolutely no mind to anything else but each other. I bit on my lip, which made Lindsay roll her eyes. I quickly released it, figuring I should speak then, or I’d lose her attention completely. All over again – I didn’t want to disturb her any more than I had.

“I- I want to go home.” I wasn’t even sure that she heard it at first. I spoke it nervously, with a shaking voice, shaking insides and shaking fingers. The loudness around me dove into my brain, reminded me that these people were temporarily hardly in control. Depending on how much beer they consumed. Could you consume that many?

Lindsay rolled her eyes again. “Whatever. What do you want me to do about it?” I stood there, silently. She continued to stare at me, as if waiting for an answer. What did I want her to do? Like she’d abandon friends, her boyfriend, to make sure I got home? I wasn’t a child, even if I did act like one sometimes. I wished, more than anything, to be like Lindsay. I slowly shrugged at her, and she turned away, annoyed. I watched her take a chug of beer before smiling at Tim, leaning in. Kissing him.

I turned away from the couple, hesitantly. I was scared to face the people behind me. Slowly and quietly, I managed to slip away from the unsettling crowd of friends and make my way up the stairs. Vaguely remembered where Jareds room was. Open a door to find I was actually accurate in my guess. I sighed, closed the door behind me and wormed my way through his slightly messy room. It isn’t as messy as it used to be – seems like Jared cleaned up a bit. Behind his bed, to the side is a window. Open. A breeze swept through the room – a comforting one.

I stared at the bed, though, as if it would get up and jump out of the window. I wanted to walk over and sit on it – a part of me thought it would be awfully weird to do so. But, alas, everyone is downstairs, and I’m up here. They’re out of their minds, and Jared wouldn’t care anyways – so why hesitate? I slowly tip-toed over to the bed, carefully sat on it, in case it’s a squeak-er. Not like they’d pay it any mind downstairs. As I sat, I drew my hands over my face, stretched the skin a bit before I let my hands drop to my legs. I glanced at the clock – it was a bit passed 12:30. I was surprised I’d even lasted that long.

My insides have stopped shaking, hands the same. Everything is better when I’m alone. Nothing bad happens when I’m with myself, locked away from the world. It’s the moment someone enters it, that things start to turn into a nightmare. Turn to something I can’t control.

I could control myself, calculate my movements, choices, thoughts.

Can’t calculate others. And that’s what I fear. The unknown, I supposed.

It’s minutes later that I realized I’d like to change out of my jeans. And shortly after, realized my bag - and Lindsays – were down on the main floor. The floor swarming with people, of which I had no idea what they would do. So, I thought about the journey that I would have to take down there. down the hall, to the stairs. Down the stairs. Somehow, I’d have to manage to go unseen by the pairs of eyes collected within the living room – which is right beside the steps. Right beside the front door. Where my bag is sat.

I gnawed on my lip once again – a bad habit – and, without warning, a memory comes floating into my brain. Foggy at first. Cleared itself up without my wanting it to.

Thirsty.

Go downstairs for a drink. Careful in my footsteps – wouldn’t want to wake anyone.

When I come to the last step, the floor creaked.

Pause. Wait for someone to wake.

Nothing.

Continue to the fridge. Sipped on a water bottle until a creaking floor calls my attention.

I jump – still fearing what lurks in the night. But it’s just grandpa.

I’m relieved for a moment before I remember, he is what lurks. I gulped down the ice-cold water.

“Peanut?” He called out, a rasp-whisper. “What’re you doin’ up so late?” I shook my head, twisting the cap back onto the water bottle. Opened the fridge, popped the bottle back in.

“Just thirsty, Gramps.” His nickname is sour on my tongue – something I used to call him before he started to use me for himself. He smiled, then.

“I can’t sleep, either, Peanut,” he told me, “Why don’t you keep me company?”

I’d nodded.

I’d followed him down the stairs.

It must have been my fault – I could’ve said no. I could’ve went upstairs.

Would that have stopped him?

Would he have still hurt me that night?

I just remembered the way he lay over me, heaving. The way he pushed with more strength than I thought he had. Too much, too fast, too hard. Silent tears.

“It always hurts the first time, Peanut.”

Below me, something seemed to break. There’s a crash, and they began to laugh obnoxiously loud. I’m glad for it – didn’t know if I could have snapped myself out of it. I hate, sometimes, to live in my own brain, where memories reside, deep in the corners. They are hunter, I am the prey. I cannot find a way to stop it.

Jared was yelling at someone – everyone seemed to be laughing at it. I didn’t hear the words, only heard tones of what he screamed. Perhaps, I thought, they were distracted. Tired of being in Jeans that hug every angle, create the illusion of perfectly curved legs, I rose from the bed, carried myself warily down the stairs, tip-toeing. Quiet. Not even sure if I had been breathing.

I guessed, really, all I wanted to do was run. I wanted to turn into Flash – grab my bag and haul it up the stairs to Jareds room. Where I’m safe from people – drunk people. My teeth were biting into my cheek, somehow, I supposed, I thought it would help me keep quiet. Like those people who stick their tongues out to concentrate, I guess.

“This isn’t fucking funny! Glass could cut you, you know?” I looked at the scene quickly – Jared, red, angry face drawn onto his usually calm one. A beer bottle sprawled behind him, broken, liquid on the tiled floor of the kitchen. His anger had been directed at Pat, who seemed to be both amused and scared. I figured, the attention on them would leave me unnoticed, even if I was out in the open. I was careful not to drag my feet as I walked over and grabbed onto my bag. When I turned around, yelling had seized. Eyes are on me. I blushed – deep scarlet, no doubt. And I thought I was being sneaky? I’m so stupid. No way they wouldn’t have noticed a living being walking only five feet away from them.

“What the hell are you doing, Liese?” Jared’s anger gone, a small chuckle fell from his lips. I shrugged, my eyes nervously shifting through the room. Found a focal point on the floor in front of me.

“I – uh – changing?” My voice squeaked at the end.

“Okay…” He said slowly, “don’t need to sneak around like a ninja or something.” The crowd laughed, my face flared more – was that possible? – and I nearly ran for the stairs. Insides going haywire because of the attention. Embarrassment. I wish I could be like Lindsay – out-going. Proud of herself. Confident. Not afraid of human touch. I envied the way she and Tim interacted – and I was sure it was pathetic as hell, but I wanted that. Whatever they had. But why would anyone, in their right mind, want to try to be with me? Funny, how she was jealous of me because I had ‘won’ the primary attention of Grandpa – who shouldn’t have been playing favorites in the first place. She didn’t know what it was like to be bound by his chains.

They stopped me from many things in life.

I wondered, if I had been free of them, if I’d be like Lindsay. Friends. Boyfriend. Touch. I even cringed at the thought as I stripped from my jeans, pulled on my pajama pants. Didn’t bother with changing my top. I crept over to Jareds bed, threw back the covers. And, with the light left on, lay there, on my side, staring out of the window. The door opened suddenly, and I quickly threw my body up and around to see who it was. John. Lanky, grinning like a total retard. I wished he would vanish. His mere appearance pumped shakes through my veins. I was no longer at ease. And he was drunk.

“Bed already?” He said. I slowly nodded, eyes cast down the the sheets before me. “Don’t blame ya,” he sung, “I’m kind of tired too.” What did he expect me to say? What did he want, even? My hands, which were playing with the fabric of the comforter, shook. My insides, rattled. Please. Leave. No one just comes into a room while someones there for nothing. It’s never nothing. I closed my eyes tightly. Opened them again. He was standing there still.

“Heres the thing,” He said, “I usually crash up here – you know? Get the bed while the losers sleep on the floors.” He paused for a chuckle. “And I don’t want to creep into his parents room or sleep in the office. So, I’ll make a deal.” I hated deals. My nervousness escalated. “I know you hate touching people or whatever. I’ll sleep on the floor, but you’ve got to give me a pillow. Fair deal?” If I said no, would I upset him? And what was he like while upset? But I nodded. He smiled wide, made his way over (after turning the light off) as I handed him the pillow. He took it, threw it onto the floor and went over to Jareds closet, pulled out an extra comforter. He lays beside the bed, under the window. I heard the zipper of his jeans roll down, and I closed my eyes, even if I couldn’t see him. Fear trickled along my body. Toes to brain. I waited there – convinced something was going to happen. I vaguely heard his jeans plopping onto the floor.

It was when his soft, sleeping breath floated through the room that I realized that he isn’t my Grandfather. He’s the kid who pees his pants in seventh grade. I figured, should I start remembering that, we might be able to get along. Friends?

I sat up, peered over the bed to look at him. Moonlight seeping through the window, hitting his face. My heart pitter-pattered.

Or more? Hah – yeah, right. I shook my head at myself. It would never happen. Because I’m Annaliese Pheonix Austen, and I’d never be anyone else. I hated that. I hated myself. And as much as I wanted to, I didn’t know how to change.