Florescent Adolescent

Everything was bottling up. The pressure of being the perfect brother, and being the comedic relief of the gang was piling up. It keeps on piling, and piling, and piling up to the point where it feels like I'm drowning. You know when you’re drowning you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out. It’s called voluntary apnea. It’s like no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won’t open your mouth until you feel like your head’s exploding. Then when you finally do let it in, it stops hurting. It’s not scary anymore. It’s actually… kind of peaceful.

That's been my life lately. Spiraling into a downwards hill, and the people I love are being hurt left and right. Everything is turning to shit, and the worst part is I can't do anything about it. People always expect me to be that goofy guy who doesn't let anything bother him. Cracking jokes and smiling even though everything is the opposite from fine on the inside. The stress is piling up, and I feel like screaming but I have to keep my sanity for the sake of everyone. No one knows how it is behind closed doors. That's when the panic attacks hit me. They're either a hit or miss, really. I can be cool as an ice cube one minute, and the next the drowning feeling comes. I can't breathe, and the world around me blanks out. My throat numbs, and my body prevents me from feeling anything besides that state of panic. I'm reaching for that breath of fresh air, and my body won't allow me to do it until my head is seconds away from exploding.

"Two-Bit? Are you okay?"

Turning my head at her, I plastered on that smile. The smile assuring everyone around me that I'm fine. Totally and perfectly fine. Blair's lips were pressed together in concern, and the last thing she needed was to be worried about her big brother.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"Besides from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant overwhelming feeling that something terrible is about to happen. It's not just a feeling, I'm drowning, Blair Bear. Everything just keeps on getting worse and worse. Everything's turning to hell." I said, flashing a smile at her.

Her blue eyes flashed with concern, and I know that's what she didn't expect. She expected me to be fine just how I always am, but it just came out. Everything came out, but to be quite honest that was nothing compared to everything else bubbling over the surface. Blair being Blair, didn't have much to say. Her expression was pained.

"If you're going though hell keep going." Blair said, without saying anything else she left the kitchen making her way upstairs.

I wanted to say something to her. I wanted to tell her that she doesn't understand, and will most likely never understand. She's the youngest, and the youngest always gets what she wants. Blair or Audrey will never understand what it feels like to be responsible for everyone else since a young age. None of them will ever understand that, and sometimes I want to disown myself. I want to leave town without a dime in my name and just run. Run to a big city without ever looking back.

It was a Tuesday when she first got diagnosed. It was merely a year and a half ago when it was the beginning. No one wanted to face the music, and admit that she was dying. I had to hold everything together, and still have that grin on my face. I was dying, and it almost as if I was the sick one, not mom. The following events were nothing, but disaster. She spent more and more time in the hospital, and there were days when we thought she was going to die. We all thought she was going to die peacefully in her sleep. It would be blissful. After all of her bullshit and putting on her brave face God would give her a chance, and let her die in peace.

While mom was in the hospital, it was just Freddy, Audrey, Blair, and I. The four of us trying to manage without the glue of the family. We were ripping at the seams living in the same house as an alcoholic junky who wasn't our father. He was close to it, because they both enjoy drinking and taking their anger out on everyone around them. 

She stayed in the hospital for three weeks one time. No one wanted to admit it that it was her time to go, but in the pit of my stomach I knew that it was going to happen. It was just the two of us. Blair and Audrey were with Bre and Maddie. I always told them to stay far away from the house especially with Freddy supposedly looking after the three of us. As soon as I opened the front door from school, chaos began.

He sat on dad's chair. Not any other chair in our makeshift living area, but dad's chair. He was drinking from his almost empty bottle of Jack, and without a care in the world words started sputtering out of his grotesque lips. 

"It's you. It's all you. You know everyday I see her on that hospital bed slowly dying, and I keep on thinking how the hell am I supposed to raise this stupid kid on my own? The other two I don't mind, but you. This hyperactive little bastard who keeps on ruining my life. It's all yooooou. It's you, Two-Bit. You're killing your mother, you hear me? You're killing her, and now you're killing me." He spat at me.

He slowly got up and with his empty glass bottle, he hurled it at my head. Glass shattering everywhere, and I didn't cry. All that hurt the most were his words, everything he said was right. Every god damned word. I didn't mean to cause her so much stress, and part of me convinced my naive sixteen year old self that I made dad walk out. I have always been that hyperactive little bastard who uses comedy as his only defense. 

Leaving me on the carpet with glass shards on my skin, and blood oozing out of my scalp he left. It wasn't the first time he took his intoxicated anger out on me, but the words cut deeper than the glass shards. No son wants to hear that they're killing their own mother. No child ever wants to hear the ugly truth. The years of all the pretty lies, and the ugly truth my family never wants to hear about. 

Even now I don't understand anything. I want to be like Blair. I want to be oblivious to all of the pain around me, and keep smiling for no apparent reason. I want to be anyone else, but me. Rubbing my temples I went upstairs, and the constant nagging voice inside my head kept telling me to move out and never look back. I don't want to be one of those people. Actually, I don't want to be like my dad to be more specific. I don't want to be that coward who runs away when the going gets tough. I'm slowly killing myself with the stress of my shattered family. We used to be so loving and wholesome, but behind that perfect family picture hanging up in the hallway, the family of all smiles are all dying on the inside. Dead, but smiling for the sake of everyone around them.

~~~~
"Dad used to... touch Blair." Audrey said, touching my hand tears welling up in her bright blue eyes.

No. Never. He might have been and still be an overworked abusive alcoholic, but he'd never do that. Never to his own children. He's not that type of person. Nope.

"No." Was all I could manage to stay in the mess of thoughts inside my head.

"Why would I lie about that, Keith?!" Blair cried, her voice cracking and glistening tears running down her freckled porcelain face.

"BECAUSE HE WOULDN'T!" I shouted, unable to process the harsh reality.

Blair and Audrey's mouths were open wide, and they didn't say anything else. My hands were shaking, and I wanted to keep my cool. I wanted to be the cool funny older brother I always am, but I felt a banging in my chest. I felt my head spinning, and the banging soon turned into a suffocating feeling. My vision began to blur, and the splitting headache took place.

I knew the feeling. The feeling I get every night due to the constant stress. I didn't want my two little sisters to see me become undone, and in a vulnerable state. I couldn't control my involuntary actions, but I was drowning. My lungs felt like they were made out of iron making it difficult to gasp for air, and my vision soon became even more blurred. My ears closed out, and I was unable to feel anything besides disappointment. Disappointment in not only myself, but my family.

It didn't even feel like a panic attack by this point. I felt like I was dying when the numbness in my limbs took place. It sort of felt like I was in one of those dreams that everyone has. Your toes curl around the edges of that cliff, and you just jump. You're free falling, and you have no idea why. Doctors say it's stress related, but during that particular moment I would be better off dead. I hoped my lungs would never open again, and I would just die right then and there. Some might say it's cowardly to think like that, but I've never had a break. I've never had a break in about twelve fucking years. Blair and Audrey always look up to me, but I'm no better than my own father.

I remember the nights he would come down from the attic, and into my bedroom. No, he never touched me like that, but he did touch me in more ways than one. He would stumble down into my room, and start hurling things at me. His breath always reeked of that whiskey, and he'd laugh when I'd always cry out "daddy stop!"

He got enjoyment watching his oldest crumble. It first started when I was four, and ended when he left. Then when he left I thought I was safe until mom's boyfriend did the same thing. Why am I always the target? I have countless scars across my body from both dad and Freddy from the beatings I took instead of my sisters. That's what I always get for being the nice guy. The countless times I would get hit with empty alcohol bottles and belts. I never wanted to watch Blair or Audrey take beatings so me being me always took them for them. They never watched dad hit me until the point where I couldn't breathe, because if I ever cried the beatings would last longer.

I was deteriorating. I was deteriorating right in front of my two little sisters, and I didn't want them to see anymore. I ran out of the room hurling towards the bathroom immediately locking the door behind me. The bathroom and Blair's room are the only rooms in the house that actually has a lock. My chest heaved, and silent tears streamed down my face. I reached my breaking point. I was beyond my breaking point, I am broken beyond repair.

Staring at the virtual reflection of myself in the mirror I felt sick to my stomach. Not because of my appearance, but more or less just everything going on. I'm supposed to be the rock for my sisters. I'm supposed to be the one that they can count on, and look at me. I ran away from my problems, and they're left outside of the bathroom door dazed and confused.

I couldn't stand that reflection. I couldn't stand my reflection for the mere reason I look like my father. I hate looking like him, and I'm afraid that maybe in five years or more I'll turn into him. I have no grasp on my life, and the only person who has been keeping me sane all along is Kitty. My blue eyes looked cold in the reflection, and gasping for air my fist hurled into the mirror. Glass shards everywhere. Blood oozing out of my knuckles, and as I picked up one of the many broken glass pieces I stared at my reflection once again.

Disgusting. Absolutely repulsive. My mind went on auto-pilot, and my usual optimistic thoughts were replaced with dark pessimistic thoughts.

You're disgusting.

I couldn't bare it anymore. I couldn't face the music, and the blood running from my hands didn't really bother me. It was the least of my problems. I wanted to have an escape from the constant anxiety. The constant overwhelming feeling that something bad is going to happen, and for once in my life I won't be able to fix it. It's like everything is sliding through my fingers. Kind of like a little kid reaching for that cookie jar, and they're so close they could practically taste the cookie, but at the same time it's so far away from their reach. I'm that little kid, and my life is the cookie jar.

My heart rate felt like it was sky rocketing, and I just wanted everything to stop. My family, the gang, myself, everyone. I can't do this anymore. I try to save all of the broken people around me, but I'm the one that really needs the saving.

"Mommy, please don't go." Blair pleaded.

Her face dropped, and tears welled up in her bright blue eyes as mom left to go to work. 

"It's alright, Bear. Daddy's going to watch after us tonight." I assured her.

She then became quiet, and didn't say anything else for the rest of the night. She is always like this. Once mommy leaves she becomes silent. Well, only when daddy's around. Other than that she talks to Audrey and I. Maybe she knows about how daddy hits me all the time, and she doesn't want to say anything about it. 

"Come on. Let's get you washed up."

"Tibby, do you think I can sleep in your bed tonight?"

"Why?"

"Nevermind."

And with that I helped her upstairs into the bathroom to run her bath. Wednesday nights. The nights mommy goes to her second job early, and comes home late. The nights where daddy watches after the three of us, and if we don't do what he says he gets angry. But, when he tries to beat up Blair or Audrey, I always take their beatings for them. I don't want to watch them get hurt, but daddy doesn't beat me until night time. 

"No," Was all I was able to repeat to myself.

Everything was linking together, and it cut deeper than the glass stuck in my skin.

His breath smelled bad. Kind of like rotten milk, but stronger. He came into my room barely able to walk, and I knew it was time. His belt was already off, and he began whipping me with it. Daddy soon put his belt down, and he instructed me to get on the floor. Then he began kicking me.

"Keith, Keith. Why can't you be like your sisters? Why can't you be more like Blair?" And with that he left my room, leaving me with welts covering my body and bruises sure to come.

He always came from the attic with his belt always off. Which is different from the different times of the day he beat me. At night he always smelled of whiskey, and his pants were always done, coming from the attic. I felt the sick rising in my stomach, and I didn't know how much more I could possibly take. Reaching for one of the glass pieces I knew exactly what I was about to do. I needed a pain outlet, and it seemed perfect. The glass made contact with my arm, and after that I blacked out.

Waking up dazed and confused on the bathroom floor with self inflicted injuries I knew exactly what happened. My past pieced together like pieces of a puzzle, and we were all suffering. Leaving the bathroom I knew nothing would ever be the same. Everything is broken just like the broken mirror in the bathroom. I went into my room to change my sweat and blood stained clothes, and I immediately went up into the attic. I crawled into her bed with her, and we said nothing. We felt bad for each other, and I felt bad for not protecting her all along. I felt disgusting, but I told my mind to shut the fuck up and we just slept. I didn't want to say anything about the anxiety, and everything else. I can't even tell Kitty, and as I shut my eyes I knew everything was broken forever.

Turn It Off

Love. Love, love, love, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. It is nothing more than a concept that some people interpret into a feeling. You can say that you love something simple like I love beer. That isn't deep, but it is a form of love. That used to be my perspective on love. For the past eighteen years I couldn't give less of a fuck about love to say the least. I lived off of boozed one night stands, and that was not love and it never will be love. I never remembered one of the many names, and I suppose that's a blessing in disguise. Then, everyone believes that you should love your parents no matter what. I detest my father ever since the day he left us. No note, no phone calls, no nothing. That gives my whole family to detest the man who fucked everything up. I can't deny that I did once love my father, and I wanted to grow up to be just like him. I wanted to have a family as great as the one we once had. Now, if that man dropped dead today I wouldn't shed a tear. Karma's a bitch.

Is Two-Bit Matthews falling in love? Is this day actually happening?! I dunno. Whenever I look into her teal eyes I melt. I don't see just another pair of plain ol' eyes as I do in everyone else. I can tell whether she is in a good mood or a bad mood just by her eyes. And when she's in a good mood? Her eyes sparkle, and they shine brighter than any other star in the sky. On good days she is a greek goddess, and I think to myself how could someone like me have someone as breath taking as her? Then there are those bad days that most girls have. Those days when she won't take my compliments, and thinks so poorly of herself. She can never see what I see, and what I see is the most gorgeous girl in the world who can never come to realization with her stunning looks with or without makeup.

I don't know if you want to call what we have love. I care for her, but I don't know if I'm in love. Whatever we may have is pretty damn close to it, and although we are not "official" I know that she's mine and I'm hers. As simple as that.

The house was quiet. It has always been quiet, but with the absence of Blair it is now more quiet. I don't know how to describe it, but neither of us know how to deal with this situation. I refuse to talk to my dad about it like Audrey's been doing, but Blair has never been normal. She's always been slightly off, but there was a time when she was full of life. Her eyes always sparkled with excitement, and she gushed about the smallest things. Blair stopped talking maybe a year or two after dad left. At the time no one knew how to deal with it. She was always secluded, and unreadable. All we thought that it was one of her games that she always played. The type of games that only involved herself, and everyone else was just a game piece. Now? Blair is out of control to say the least, and none of us know who that monster has become and what she has done with the sweet innocent child she once was. Her demons are officially eating her from the inside out.

Her head was pressed against my chest, and it's turned into a routine lately. Late nights are usually when she comes. No calls, no texts, but I can always expect to wake up to that beautiful face in the mornings. Maybe that's one of the perks of having what we have. People say communication is key, but the blissful moments of staring into each other's eyes saying absolutely nothing. Yet again, this sounds disgustingly cheesy, but she saved me in more ways than one. And I like to think that I saved her too.

"I don't want to go to school." Kitty whined into my chest.

"I don't want to either. Let's play hooky." I said nonchalantly.

Kitty shook her head at me, pieces of her long dark hair falling into her face. Her tall frame exited the bed, and I immediately gave her a playful pout hating the absence in my bed.

"I almost forgot something." Kitty said deviously, grabbing the bed sheet to wrap around her bare body leaving me cold and pulling me out of the bed.

~~~~
im coming over 2nite we r getting drunk

Cocking an eyebrow as I read Dally's text, I began to think about the young night lying ahead of us. It was merely four in the afternoon, and no one was home. It was just me with an empty fridge of booze, but then the guilt sunk in. I promised Kitty and everyone else around me that I'd lay off on drinking. Then that part of me came in that overpowered every other feeling. Just one beer I promised myself. Then maybe some vodka, that's it. No more.

dont be a pussy

Opening the fridge in front of me I pulled out one Budlight, and grinned to myself. The girls were having a girls night, and that left the guys for a guy night. I mean what was the worst that could possibly happen?

come over and invite the others

Within thirty minutes Dally, Steve, and the others spilled into my confined living room minus all of the Curtis boys. Then the craziness began. Once the bottles were opened, nothing good came out of that night absolutely nothing.

I can't say much about that night, because I don't remember much. Until the girlfriends came in. People were either passed out or they were in that drunken state where they couldn't even form words. It was not pretty, but it was a hell of a party. I can't say the same for the girls, because usually they would be all in for that but it was not the time nor the place. Rhyan and Dally argued for all of a minute before they started making out in the kitchen, and Kitty slowly made her way over to me.

"You promised me..." She began.

Letting out a loud laugh, I pressed a finger to her lips and smiled at her. My drunken actions had caused her to grin, and she forgot all about what happened. Even in my intoxicated state I didn't try anything on her. I don't want her to do anything that she'd forget, because I don't think I'd bear to see a broken Kitty. If she is broken that will break me. I tell the guys that we sleep together, and what not but in the midst reality the most we do is sleep naked together. Nothing more.

The rest of the night was a blur until the sobriety kicked in. Dallas was passed out on the floor with his hand in his pants, and Kitty and I stayed awake watching TV. It was just the three of us in the living room, I assumed the others stumbled back home or were passed out somewhere in the house. Rubbing my tired eyes I looked at the digital clock. 6:30. Holy shit.

That was when the hangover began to sink in, but it was fine. It was more or less a dull headache, because I've grown accustomed to them. Kitty was half awake, her body cuddled into mine. Then the shower turned on, and confusion engulfed my mind. Audrey wouldn't be awake, and the others wouldn't be awake. A figure walked downstairs, and it took me a minute to process what was actually happening. Kitty let out a yawn, and rubbed her beautiful blue eyes.

"SODA WHAT THE FUCK?"

Soda had tried to dart past us, and out the front door. He was buckling his pants buckle, and Blair's bare feet pit patted down the stairs wearing nothing but a towel. I looked at the two of them, and Soda gulped. This was not happening... this was not happening. Soda slept with my kid sister? Why the hell? What about Jelly? Anger flickered in my eyes, and Kitty knew what was going to happen but she did nothing for me to stop it.

"It's not what it looks like."

"What does it look like, Soda? Hm?" Kitty said, getting up from the couch.

"You're sleeping with Two-Bit." Soda blurted.

The two of us couldn't but laugh at his ridiculous accusation and it was only the matter of thirty seconds before I had Soda in a headlock detested by what he had done. Especially to my poor innocent sister in such a vulnerable state of mind.

Once our fight was over he quickly left the house, and Kitty and I went back to where we were on the couch snuggled into each other acting like nothing had happened.