Call Me Crazy

Paranoia clouded my dreams all through the night. Was Adam really with his mom? Due to these thoughts, I barely slept at all. I awoke Saturday morning at eight, and I groaned, knowing I would have liked to sleep in to take me away from my troubling thoughts. I also realized that it was too early to text Adam; I didn’t want to seem like a clingy girlfriend.

I padded my way down the stairs deep in thought, yet I wasn’t surprised to find the kitchen deserted. My parents were probably out for their morning jog, and I didn’t expect to see Carolina until at least noon, as she had been out last night until one or so.

Rubbing my eyes, I grabbed a bowl and the box of frosted flake, and began to prepare something for my growling stomach.

“Shut up down there,” I snapped crankily at my noisy tummy. I spooned a mouthful of the soggy, sweet flakes in to my mouth and I smiled in satisfaction as it filled the hunger. I eventually grew bored, grabbed the bowl and headed towards the basement.

The unfinished room had become my personal art room, since the only thing my parents used it for was the occasional storage, and my sister would rather die than set foot on the dirty concrete floors. I set up a small canvas on the far wall, and got out my paints. I started absentmindedly mixing a bit of black into my blue, until I had various shades of navy. I had no idea what I was planning painting, but I let my paintbrush stray to the canvas anyway.

Within a half an hour, I had an intimidating storm cloud taking up most of the upper half of the paper, but nothing else. I would have continued, but I heard Caroline’s voice calling me in an annoyed tone.

“I’ll be right there!” I shouted up the stairs, though I doubt she heard me. I Hastily tidied up my workspace before grabbing the empty cereal bowl and running up the stairs.

“What,” I demanded, annoyed, when I came face to face with my petite sister. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail, and she was still in her pajamas. Looking down at myself, I realized that I too was still in my sweats, though mine were splattered with a bit of blue paint.

“There’s a freak at the door looking for you,” She informed me in a dull monotone, before sleepily making her way back up to her room, no doubt going back to sleep. Even though I was embarrassed that I wasn’t dressed, I walked to the foyer to be met by Kevin.

“Hey,” I greeted him, “What brings you here at nine in the morning?”

“Sorry,” He apologized cheekily, “I, um, wanted to talk to you,”

“Okay, so shoot,” I stated.

“This is getting really hard,” He admitted, not looking very happy.

“What is?” I asked, concerned.

“Everything,” He looked like he was going to cry, “I hate being in the middle. I want everything to work out between you guys,” By ‘you guys’, he was referring to Alexis, Ben, John, and their ceasing of talking to me.

“I know, Kevin, I do too,” I said, pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, I know you do,” He sounded pained, “But I just cant. I can’t play the guy in the middle any more. S-s-so I decided,” He stuttered some more, as if he was trying to hold back from crying, “I cant watch you get hurt and—“

“I’m not getting hurt!” I defended myself.

“No, I know—well, I don’t know, but I just cant, I’m sorry,” He looked down.

“What are you saying?” I asked cautiously, ready to start crying myself. Kevin was one of the few people I have left; he couldn’t leave me too!

“I’m saying that,” He paused, “I’ll talk to you when it doesn’t hurt Ben any more” and with that he turned and walked out the door, leaving me standing in the entryway, stunned.

No. This cant be happening. I let out a scream in frustration and lashed out at the nearest object. Luckily, said object ended up being just a pillow. Why the hell can’t they just support me? What’s wrong with Adam that nobody seems to like him? Irrational thoughts ran through my head mixed with questions. But there was question that was irking me the most.

What did Kevin mean when he said, when it doesn’t hurt Ben anymore?