This Burning Room

I stared at myself in the mirror. Gazing into the eyes of a stranger. I didn't know who this tawny haired, green eyed, pale faced girl is. At least not anymore. She's not who she used to be, which was fun, spontaneous, and full of laughter and life. Now everything around has her by the throat, cutting off precious supply of air.

Voices haunt my subconscious, "'We're all dead Lane, and this is Hell. You can't get more fucked up than that." Wise words from my alcoholic mother. The one who I blame most of my problems on.

I turn away from the mirror before it starts to tell me exactly whats wrong with me. You're fat, ugly, piece of shit. Tommy is going to leave you. Nobody loves you. Forever alone.

"Hey Elena, want to go run with me?" the 'nice mother' dissipates my unnerving thoughts.

"Um no, sorry. I'm going to go hang out with Tommy," I smile politely. I like this version of my mom, the one before all the fucked-upness. I was only six, but I remember that smile, the one she is wearing today. I wish I could smile like that.

"Okay Princess, tell Tommy I said hi. Make good choices," she winked before retreating from my room and out the front door to start her daily 5k run.

*

I wrap my arms around Tommy's bare torso. This was my favorite place to be. Listening to his heavy breathing and feeling his pounding heart against my cheek right after break up and make up sex. It's the thing we could really do well together. Everything else was a complete mess.

Tommy's fingers slid up and down my spin, "You've lost weight," he murmurs. I roll my eyes and brace myself for the lectures.

"You have to stop starving yourself, baby. You're going to get hurt again."

"Thomas, I'm okay. It's a side effect of the new medication I'm on, I swear," that wasn't totally a lie. Maybe I was just helping the side effect along by skipping meals, or throwing up.

"I love you," his words both warm and chill my heart.

"I love you too. Stop worrying about me, I'm a big girl," I lift my head to make eye contact. I see pure love and sorrow. Two things I wasn't good at. I kiss him swiftly before laying my head back down.

For moments it is peaceful. I cherish them. I count the number of beats his big heart makes while drifting off into a place where I don't have to fake happiness.

*

"My mom will be home in fifteen minutes," Tommy shakes me awake. He is showered and fully dressed.

I half-heartily smile. His mother and I don't see eye to eye. She thinks I'm a psycho whore, and I think she is an overprotective bitch.

"Oh goodie, Mommy-DaVill," I mutter. Tommy shoots me a dirty look. I bite my tongue.

As I lift the covers off of my still naked body and start to search for my clothes, Tommy is strumming his guitar singing an unwritten melody softly. I stop to listen to him, it's another thing I love about him. His vocal cords have been blessed by the Gods. Soft and sweet, yet sexy and masculine. Tommy has already done a few gigs with his band, and had worked up a small fan base. The girls swoon at his feet, though he ignores it completely, I always find myself bitterly jealous.

I finish buttoning my jeans just as Tommy is finishing the last verse. I crawl onto his lap and place small little kisses on both corners of his lips. "Your voice is a turn on Mr. Van Pierce. It makes me want to have my way with you multiple times, in various ways," I say seductively, nibbling my way down Tommy's neck.

"Is that so?" Both of our heads shoot back to the door. Tommy's mom is leaning against the door frame with arms crossed over her chest.

"Oh shit, mom what are you doing here?" Tommy pushes me sideways off his lap and stands up by the bed.

"I live here Thomas, my question is why is this Tramp in my house?"

I dart off the bed, ready to attack. I wasn't a tramp. Tommy grabs me quickly around the waist, pulling me back.

"Don't get your words twisted Celia. My husband didn't leave me because I cheated on him with his boss," I smirk.

"Well at least I'm not the one who was locked up in a mental institution because my life is so fucked up that I can't tell what way is up. I believe that was you. Now get out of my house before I call the cops."

I look at Tommy for help. His mom just hit the lowest spot below the belt. Tears form in my eyes as I watch him shake his head. "You should go, I'll talk to you later."

"No, you won't," I plow past Celia and make a quick exit to my car.

I wipe away my black streak tear stains from my cheeks in the rear view mirror, the girl looking back smirks, knowing that I'll never last.