Please, Take Me Home

I knocked quietly on the metal door. My chaffed knuckles stung against the green paint, making me bite the inside of my cheek. After the fourth pain-filled knocked the door creaked open. Jack was already back on the couch by the time I had stepped inside.

I had locked myself out. . . again.

"Where's the key?" I asked, looking for the hook on the wall, but the plaster presented me with only a hole with the ghost of the hook.

"Try the table." He mumbled softly, he seemed to be fully immersed in the book he was reading. Jack didn’t read many books, but when he found one he would read it over and over again.

I strode to the cluttered table, making sure not to let my boots touch the discarded boxes and clothes on the ground.

I played with the fringe of my hat, scanning the mess. Finally locating the shiny keys under a stack of dolphin training brochures- Dave's ambition as of 3 hours ago.

My hand was firmly around the handle of his door, when his voice broke the silence that had been pushing at us.

"You leaving now?" His voice was colored with a tone, the tone could have been care. . . which I doubt, it was more likely disbelief and from habit; considering I usually found every excuse possible to spend time with him- especially the excuse of being locked out of my home.

"I-I guess I could. . .stay- for a second." I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. His dark green eyes shot at me like lasers. I nervously ran my tongue over my teeth, pressing against the edges.

He grabbed a sharp tone from somewhere- "'Cause you have so little time on your hands."

A timid chuckle. A calculating glance.

When I had not answered, he narrowed his already conical eyes, assessing my fumbling hands and flickering gaze.

I couldn’t decide on what to look at. I shifted from the carpet, the murky window, the table, my shoes, that lent on the couch cushion.

"What is wrong with you?" he finally snapped, folding the corner of his page and sitting the book facedown- so I wouldn’t be able to see the title- on the table.

I flicked my hair out of my face, craning my neck slightly, "What're you reading?" Way to avoid the situation at hand.

"Nothing." He said offhandedly, playing it off.

I didn’t trust him.

"Well that sounds interesting."

He rolled his eyes minutely, pushing it a little farther away with his elbow.

"You wouldn’t like it."

"How do you know?" now I was just messing with him, Jack always hid things, even if it didn’t matter, like when I asked him one time if he could roll his tongue, he refused to look at me. (I think he cant.)

"You just wouldn’t." He sniffed, turning the t.v. on with the silver remote. "Damn, Cable's out." He muttered darkly right after, flicking the static-y screen right off.

I walked stealthily towards the upturned piece of literature, walking in an arch so he wouldn’t see me immediately.

He looked back at me, just as my arm shot towards the book. There was a loud inhale of breath and another hand shooting back at me, as my fingers secured around the spine.

"Sally, give me the book." Jack said, a deathly calmness invading his tone.

I stared at him like a raccoon in the headlights, a raccoon because I don’t think I'm big enough to be a deer and my make up matches a raccoons better anyways.

His left hand was securely wrapped around my right upper-arm, his right hand was gripping the book. I tried to yank out of his grasp, but for a skinny kid Jack was pretty strong.

I smirked, pretending I had the upper-hand.

"Just let me see-"

"No!" He cut me off, his knuckles turning white from the pressure he was applying to the book.

I bit my tongue, trying not to laugh, I knew to laugh would be death. Quickly I swooped down, before Jack could react I had read the title, and seen the pictures.

My cheeks puffed and turned read, before I belted out a caw, laughing with such a force that I doubled over. Jack quickly threw the book across the room, crossing his arms and sitting down on the worn out couch. His glare would have made a less experienced man fall to their knees just with the hate it radiated. But not me, I was cracking up and there was no stopping the volcano that had erupted inside me.

"Finding your inner Zen?" I howled, putting my hands to my bursting face.

He continued to send cancer inducing thoughts to me.

"Seriously Jack. Have you gone kookoo?"

His lips drew a taught line, "Hannah wanted me to read it." His tone was curt.

I straightened, the air was thinner, I thought I was about to fall over from the lack of gravity in the room. Hannah, brown hair, tinkling laugh. (Whore).

"Oh. . . cool." I muttered awkwardly a single tear creaking out, from the former laughing fit. He turned back to the t.v. even though it was off.

I let myself out.