Pull Out My Insides

The bright rays of the sun stream through my window, bringing me to my reluctant awakening with a bemused groan. Great, some fucker opened the curtains--Anderson. I throw on clothes at random, not paying attention to what's going onto my body, not that I even care, and walk down to the kitchen, where I'm sure Anderson is. He seems to always be there...

"Did you open my curtains?" I ask him, rubbing my eyes and groaning.

"I did. I thought you should get out of bed and be productive instead of being a lazy bum," a voice snaps, groaning as I recognize the voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard--my 'aunt.' I'm supposed to call her my aunt, but she's just a gold-digging whore who married my uncle who's too damn stupid to realize that his perfect trophy wife isn't so perfect after all.

"For your information, not that you even need to know it, I was up late working last night, and hoping that I would actually sleep in for once on my one Saturday off in three weeks. But apparently not," I spit, glaring at her and the man I'm ashamed to call my uncle.

"Well, it's too late now," she huffs, rolling her eyes. I'm surprised she can even move her face from the endless Botox injections she's had.

"Why the fuck are you here in the first place?"

"You better shut--"

"Francine, calm down. Asher, we're here because we think that you deserve better than working two jobs and--"

"I'm 18 already! I have two fucking jobs and a baby on the way! There's no fucking way that I'm going to live with you! Get that into your thick heads--or have the endless days at the tanning salon done more damage than just giving you skin cancer and the look of a leather couch? Not that you're much smarter than one in the first place," I shoot, more to my aunt.

"Listen, kid, we're your elders and you better resp--"

"Take your respect and stick it up your ass, because if you honestly expect any respect from me when you barge in here unexpectedly, trying to take me away from the one good fucking thing I have in my life!"

"A--"

"Don't fucking say anything! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!" I shout, getting fed up just looking at their faces. Too many bad memories.

After staring at my livid face for a few seconds, they just huff and storm out of the house, slamming the door behind them. How mature.

I turn back around, realizing that Anderson witnessed everything that just happened. He's just sitting there, pen still in hand, staring at me.

"Uh... hey."

He nods. "Good job standing up for yourself."

I just nod back, looking at the clock and groaning. 8:41

Great, five hours of sleep... Well, I'm up now and there's no way I can get back to sleep now. I go upstairs, blasting "Savior" by Rise Against on repeat and trying to get some homework done. Once I finish my homework, I sit on my bed, contemplating what to do to pass five hours. I spot a movie on my desk and grin, picking it up. Sweeney Todd. Shit yes.

Roughly 116 minutes later, I take the movie out and groan at the time. Fuck, still got time to pass. With a groan, I take out of my old, beat up iPod Touch and play mindless games for a few hours. After beating my high score in Temple Run and Robot Unicorn Attack, I decide to check my Reddit and Facebook. But I never end up checking my Facebook, for the call of Reddit is far too strong. By the time I look at the clock, it's nearly time to leave, so I get up, checking my clothes and hair a few times before grabbing my keys and getting into my car. Once I plug my iPod into the stereo and put on The Cranberries, I pull away from the house, hoping that the couple from hell won't be there when I get back.

A short time later, I arrive at the familiar house, taking a deep breath and getting out of the car before strutting up to the door. Right as my hand reaches up to knock, a familiar, happy face shows itself in front of me.

"Hey, Asher."

"Hey, Zara."

She ushers me in and I follow her across the somewhat familiar house to an empty room where Suzanna, Henry, Stella, and Mason are sitting on the floor that's covered in what looks like Saran Wrap.

"Okay, guys, let's start. The paint's in the basement," Zara says, causing all of them to look up at us.

"Can't get it yourself, fatty?" Henry teases her.

"Bitch, please. My fatness will go away in a few months. But you'll always be a dumbass. Hell, if Pokemon was real, you'd be the guy with the six Magikarp, ho!" she teases back.

He holds a hand over his heart dramatically. "That hurt, Zara. That hurt!"

"I'm sure, dummy. Now go get paint," she orders as the others walk out of the room grumbling to themselves, probably over the fact that I'm here.

"Fine, fine..." he mutters, walking out as well.

"Okay," she starts, putting her hands together, "so, we're going to paint the room this really rad light purple color and then we got a bunch of furniture already, except for the crib. But that'll be for later. So yeah, just go with it."

"Sounds easy enough," I muse. "And by the way, you're not fat. I think you're still as beautiful as the day I met you."

She just blushes at my statement, waving me off.

"You're a silly goose," she mutters, waddling off to find something, I suppose.

Once everyone comes back, we open up the paint and all take a paint roller or brush and start off in an awkward silence.

"Anyone got any music?" someone asks a few minutes in.

Everyone shakes their head and Zara explains that she doesn't feel like walking to her room and getting her iPod. I offer mine and we find some speakers nearby. I plug in my iPod, putting it on a random song and hoping no one thinks badly of my music taste. While the song--My Darkest Hour by Scary Kids Scaring Kids--blasts into the empty room, conversation picks up, causing many laughs around the room, but I stay silent, not wanting to cause attention to myself. I hear the gaggle start to erupt in laughter and a few huffs. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Zara and Henry both covered in paint, Zara glaring heavily at the blond boy. The sight alone makes it hard for me to stifle my laughter. At a paint war breaks out, I try to stay in my corner, not wanting to draw attention to myself even more so now.

"Asher, think fast!" Mason's voice calls. What the--

Fuck! That little fucker flicked his paint roller at me, causing a bunch of paint to get all over my clothes. Everyone seems to stop, looking at me, anticipating what I'll do next.

With a grin like the Cheshire cat, I stalk up to Mason, hiding my paintbrush behind my back.

"Sorry," he says, trying to look apologetic, but I know inside, he's laughing his ass off.

"Nah, it's okay," I say, reaching in for a bro hug.

He grins, leaning in, too, and right before we can hug, I whip out the brush, smearing the paint all over his face and hair. His dumbstruck look causing my cackles to become even louder, though they're nearly drowned out by the roar of laughter from the rest of the room. After that, an all out paint war breaks out.

Stella, Zara, and I hide behind a makeshift fort made of cardboard boxes, a hole cut in it for keeping watch. I catch Zara's eye and make ridiculous signs with my hands that make no sense, pretending that I'm signaling something to her. She just gives me a confused look and I laugh silently, shaking my head. Right as we're about the attack the other team, a voice whispers into my ear.

"Hey, Asher."

I jump, turning around to face a grinning Mason.

"Payback, bitch!" he shouts, smearing purple paint all over my face and hair, getting me now completely soaked in paint.

"Fine! Truce! Truce!" I shout, giving in.

"Team Charizard wins!" they holler, high fiving each other.

We--Team Sweeney--face each other, nodding solemnly.

"This war will be won next time. But I'll never get the vision of Charlie out of my head, leg mangled and bloody. Charlie! Chaaarlieeee!" I shout dramatically, drawing a few giggles from Zara and Stella.

After looking at the ruined walls, we decide to fix them.

"Black covers everything perfectly! So we'll just paint black over the walls and then when it dries, we'll splatter purple all over it. Plus, that way, it'll be like, three billion times more fun," Zara explains to us. "And the baby will have the raddest room on the block, yo," she adds.

"But we need more paint."

"I can go," I volunteer.

Zara nods and walks over to me. "I'll go with you. Hold the house down, guys."

"Aye, aye, cap'n!" a voice shouts as we walk out the door, getting into her car.

**At Home Depot**
"Yeah, I think this is close enough," she tells, contemplating it.

I hold up my arm, looking at the differences.

"Yeah, it's pretty close to the old one."

Everyone gives us weird looks as they spot us, two teenagers covered in purple paint, one heavily pregnant.

"Okay, let's go."

As she says that, her foot catches on a ladder and she lunges forward, but before she call fall, I catch her. She blows out a shaky breath and smiles up at me.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

I hope she knows that I'll always catch her if she falls. In more than one way.