My bedroom ceiling stares back at me. The walls wonder where I've been.
The ache in my chest grows stronger, and I turn, pressing my face into the pillow. I'm so stupid.
My room is bare. The walls are stripped and full of tiny holes from where I'd once hung posters. The closet isn't empty, but my clothes aren't inside.
Everything I didn't take with me was moved into the basement or the attic, haphazardly tossed into the recesses of boxes full of dusty photo albums and second grade Halloween costumes, lost to the abyss of this house.
I drove back here on my own. A metaphorical walk of shame back to this room. Luckily the job I'd gotten up at Aedin's wasn't too important to me. Pay was passable, people were bearable. It was fine. It was still hard to tell them I'd quit. I think I'll end up putting them on my resume when I go back to work up here.
My heart aches for home. I know that this place should be home but it isn't. Not anymore. I made the mistake of calling another place home and there's no going back on that. And, I guess, this place never felt like home to begin with.
It was never mine. My room, my stuff, my bed. But this wasn't my home, even when I was small.
I roll back over, looking up at the ceiling again. The dark looks back at me but it isn't there. I'm by myself. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to replace the comfort, but I know it won't work. It just makes me want to go back even more.
"Arthur!"
I sit up quick, wiping my face, just as my mom knocks on the door.
"Come in."
She pushes open the door and comes inside, carrying a large box on her hip. My mom is a stout lady, short and plump, strong from years of being a mother and a hospital nurse. She talks in a voice that sounds like she's yelling but she's not trying to, her voice just carries.
"Ben's mom is calling."
"I don't want to talk to Ben or Ben's mom or any of Ben's friends."
"Arthur, I know you're mad at him for letting everyone know, but love can make people do crazy things, and everything turned out fine. Right?"
"I actually cannot believe you're defending him. What if someone had heard about it and came and beaten me to death?"
"Ye of little faith. This community loves you, Arthur. And they love this family. Nobody would hurt you over a little thing like this."
"Please don't minimize this. You always do this."
"I'm sorry. I just feel like you're overreacting. He loves you and he wants to apologize," she says. I feel myself getting angry again. But not nearly as angry as I am at Ben.
"I can't forgive him for this, and the fact that you keep insisting that his actions were out of love and not a selfish -- And dangerous! -- need to erase the problems he saw with me is starting to really get on my nerves. I would've thought you'd have my back."
She sighs, her shoulders dropping slightly. She turns to leave the room. "Ben's mom is calling."
I get up out of bed, following her toward the door. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" She asks, stopping at the banister and looking back at me.
"You're shutting down," I tell her. "It's not fair. This isn't my fault but you're acting like you want me to apologize."
"I'm not, I just..." She sighs again, and shrugs. "I guess I don't know. I want you to be happy, and if you being in the closet was the only thing stopping you from being with Ben, then I wish you could go be with him."
"But that's not-"
"That's not the only thing stopping you anymore. He hurt you. I know. But I think you should think about it some more."
She leaves, up the stairs, and I let her go. I'm not going to think about it anymore.
He didn't just hurt me. He took something away from me that I can never get back. It feels like he took everything, stripped me for parts, and I've only just realized that I'm nothing.
A carrion that thought he loved a crow.
That might be too harsh, but that's how I feel right now. I don't care if it isn't fair. He's a cruel, selfish person, and I can't believe I ever trusted him.
God, all I want is to go home. I can't stop seeing the pain in his face, feeling the silence as I left. I want to feel him in the other room again, I want to hear him moving through the house. He walks with that limp but it doesn't slow him down. Neither does his blindness.
He was perfect.
I hope he's okay. Leaving how I did, I really hope he's taking care of himself.
It'd be nice if I could call him.