Different Love

I knew I was dreaming. I knew that no matter how cruel he got, I would wake up in my bed my own bed again in my own house. But why was this small comfort not enough? He was right there, looking down at me with his sick, demented grin he always wore. His hand reached forward and bile rose in my throat. I gave out a small whimper and squeezed my eyes shut, the eyeliner and mascara running down my cheeks. Please, I heard someone beg and in my dream state, I didn't realize it was me begging. Let me go home. Everything blurred and the pain I felt in my face was so palpable my consciousness began to stir. I wanted to wake up, my brain told me this was all a nightmare and I needed to leave, to go back to reality but something pulled me in deeper and I was lost. Panic filled me, I saw him circling around my body like if I were nothing but a sick animal and he couldn't decide to take me out of my misery or watch me suffer. Once again, my vision blurred and a sharp pain in my gut made me cry out. Oh God... stomach acid and spit came up and I groaned, clenching my gut. I turned away from him, closing my eyes and feeling my body convulse from pain and the cold. Everything was so vivid, the smell of the old wooden floor, the dim light bulb overhead and the agony... oh, my aching body. The ungodly suffering...
Something changed. Their was a pressure on my body that was foreign, I opened my eyes and saw the nightmare shifting. He looked over at me, watching me with a disconnected look that said "I'll see you soon enough" and then my eyes opened and light flooded in.

"Charlotte? Baby, wake up...it's okay. It's okay."

I sat up, my back arrow straight and it probably looked like a demon was being exorcised from my damned soul. I turned my head and my frantic eyes rested on the sight of my aunt, dressed in a robe with her soft eyes watching me cautiously. I closed my eyes, my back turning into jelly and relief flooded through me.

"Oh shit. Shit. Shit." I muttered, sinking against the headboard of my bed. "It was all a dream."

"Yes, Char. You're okay." She said this as a statement. You're okay. And offered me a rueful smile.

"I'm so sorry I keep waking you up... this has to be the third time this week." I shook my head at myself, self-criticism over taking me and I looked away, turning myself from her.

"Don't do that to yourself," she said sternly. "You're my niece and if that means I have to pull my ass outa' bed for you every once and a while than I will." Her tone was absolute and I was to drained to argue. I nodded sluggishly and she gently patted my knee.

"Thanks, Mags." I muttered, my eyes drooping against my will.

"You're okay, baby. You're okay." I was vaguely aware of her warm body pulling away and leaving my room, keeping the door open so the night light from the hall illuminated a sliver of my bedroom. I exhaled, letting my mind wander and I soon fell asleep.

Mornings were always the hardest. Not just because I get shit sleep but because I would have to face my aunt's very selective cooking. I could smell the burnt raisin toast and under ripe cantaloupe all the way from my bedroom. I sat up slowly, groaning from my kinked neck. The pattering of the rain was now a comforting thing, when I first moved here I was convinced I would wake up one morning with the house sunk three feet into the soggy ground. My aunt still would be singing Everly Brothers and just add the mud to her cereal. My curls stuck to my face in clumps and I sighed, pulling the strands into a braid down my back and stood, getting ready for my day. I was fully dressed in jeans, tucked into boots and a decently thick long sleeved t-shirt, and my hair was tamed and officially bunned. I walked down the hall, shutting off the frightening Dora The Explorer night light and continued into the kitchen, slightly stunned.
"Mags? What are you?" I eyed her, seeing her lithe body cladded in decent clothing with her red hair in a ponytail instead of lingering in her breakfast. She looked up casually from her food, her blue eyes steady.
"Your worst nightmare." She didn't hesitate to say. When she saw my eyebrow raise a fraction she shrugged. "Er, second worst nightmare." she amended and I nodded, eyeing the pot of overcooked oatmeal on the stove and decided to skip breakfast. I sat across from her, maybe hoping to get a better explanation of "second worst nightmare" but she remained silent; her humming continued and we sat in silence for most of the morning. My decision to move here with my aunt, in all honesty she was a complete stranger to me, in a small town in Oregon was abrupt. I recalled the conversation my mother had with me, her frail hands wrapped around a chipped coffee mug and she stared at me intently.

"Charlotte," she said slowly and I stilled at the way she said my name. It was like if she was whispering through a delicate layer of glass. "We know it's been hard on you, being a victim of such a... grotesque and inhuman act. But, you're strong, you're a Mecham after all..."
I zoned out from my mother's pep talk; I couldn't help but feel that these words were somehow meant for her, like if she needed more comfort than I. A part of me resented that of my mother. She was, in all truth, an attention whore. She couldn't help feeding off all the sympathetic pats and words of praise for being the supportive mother, helping her daughter cope with just a travesty. Oh, how I was to young and to ambitious to have been put through so much trauma. I was never thought of as delicate or fragile before the kidnap and molestation; and no one even knew my ambitions in life. "Are you listening, Char?" my mother's eyebrows came together and I blinked out of my thoughts.

"How's Aunt Margaret doing?" I blurted out. My mother stared at me for a moment, her tired mind starting. Then their was the other part of me, the side that knew -regardless of her twisted ways- that my mom was in brutal pain over what happened to me. I could see it weigh down on her every time she stared at me to long, her motherly heart would put her feet in my shoes and she would try and imagine what I was went through. What I was going through and it killed her. Growing up, I was a reckless child. Always getting into trouble and sneaking out. I never understood what the big deal was, I never grasped the concern and adoration a mother would have for a child until after I was found. When she saw me for the first time and she saw her only baby like that... I knew she broke with me, just a little.

"Er, um, she's fine? I know she tried to visit you in the hospital. But, you know, you weren't exactly okay with visits then." She gave an awkward half-chuckle and I nodded quickly, not wanting to talk about that.
"I know. I think I might visit her."

I think I will always remember the utter look of astonishment when I said those words. Then the visit turned into just a "break" as my mom called it and then that progressed to a permanent living arrangement. Now, I had all my school records transferred over to Berkley High School where I would finish my last god-awful year of school. I wanted to drop out and just live off of Aunt Mags horrible rice pudding but both my aunt and mother pushed me into the corner with high school drop out statistics and articles. It was the one thing they agreed on and were equally determined. I think they both wept over the phone when I finally agreed to get my diploma but it would be here in Oregon, I wouldn't be going back to Colorado. I knew my mother was hurt over my persistence to stay here, but there was something about being away from home that brought me relief. And half the time I was taking care of Mags, which was a nice distraction.

"What's on the agenda for today?" I eyed her nervously, wondering what she was up too.

She shrugged lightly, standing with her plates. "You'll find out soon enough. I would go grab you're coat though, just in case it rains." She smiled sweetly and quickly scrubbed her dishes and began soaking the pot of oatmeal.
I internally thought about puking up all over the table to get out of whatever soul-crushing thing she had in mind but one, I knew she wouldn't buy it and two, my stomach was empty. Which was another reason I enjoyed my aunt. She was good at letting me do my thing, she understood skipping a couple meals wasn't going to send me into a drastic level of malnutrition. Just the same if I hauled my ass in my room all day; she knew I didn't need an intervention or the "What's wrong? Did I do something?" question game. It was odd I could find solace from a stranger who before the last three months, I only saw maybe five times growing up and was talked about with forced-smiles and quick subject changes. I always figured it was because she didn't go into the family business or more like family "expectations"; becoming a sort of lawyer or politician. My mother barely scrapped by by going into business. My aunt was a different story, she moved out at a young age and refused to be criticized over getting a double major in fine art and history. She works at a museum now, magically finding a perfect job in both of her degrees, and works basically whenever she wants. I liked that part of her, she was horrible at being ordinary and domestic. I wanted to strive to that secretly.

"Would you like to drive?" She dangled the keys in front of me and I nodded, trying my hardest not to rip them out of her hand. Her driving terrified me more than the slight driving anxiety I had. Berkley was your average size town, not a hick small town but it wasn't like Portland either.

"Where am I driving too?" I asked, my mouth pursed sourly and my eyes did this thing when I was pissed or annoyed. I didn't like surprises. And no, it wasn't an outcome of trauma, I just never enjoyed the anticipation.

"Just go left and keep heading straight. I don't want you to know yet." I could hear the excitement in her voice and I took a breath of air and exhaled it slowly. She was a mostly silent passenger, we turned on the radio to some oldies station that she sang too. She wasn't terrible and I was just glad she wasn't on a rant of the Renaissance period. We eventually left Berkley and I as I drove further away from the medium-sized city, the roads grew and so did the houses. I stayed calm, keeping the wheel steady and ignored the cars hovering so close to me or the feeling that I wasn't going fast enough for everyone's liking or that my driving was terrible; I was probably giving some old man a heart attack because I didn't signal long enough for his poor vision to see what I was coming over and oh God, did I just hit a bunny?

"Char, are you okay? You're going slowing down, dear." Mags said, looking over at me curiously. I swallowed and nodded, picking up speed. I shook my panic clear, reaching over and turning up the radio to block out my thoughts.

"Mags... please, please... don't make me do this." I looked over at the building in front of me with horror, the modern front filled with glass windows and perfectly weeded and colorful flowers. Not to mention the nice line of teenagers and kicking children streaming in and out.

"C'mon... you look like a immature brat having a tantrum like this." She scoffed at me and checked her make-up in the reflection of the car next to us. I was currently pressing my forehead against the driver's window and had my back awkwardly arched with my arms limp at my sides.

"Don't make me. Please." I mumbled against the window, my breath fogging the surface.

"Think of this as an welcoming present! You've been with me the entire summer and I haven't gotten you a single thing. Besides, I want you looking hot for your senior year." She turned on me, her one hand on her slender hip and the other one did gestures in the air. She looked amazing. Mags had the slimness of a graceful willow tree but the untamed hair and sass of a super model. She usually had her hair in braided piggy-tails and was covered in oil paint, looking like a artistic poet of some kind, except for the days she worked. I wondered if she got all dolled up today because we were having a girl's day? I looked down at my shoes, the leather worn and the laces trying their hardest to stay together. I tugged at my shirt, the pretty blue color faded and honestly, it wasn't even comfortable anymore. I sighed, standing up like an adult and slummed my shoulders in defeat. Mags tugged affectionately at the odd three inches of baby hair I had in front of my ears and we ventured inside the disgusting mall. Inside the warm air hit us and I patted down my bangs, looking at my feet as we walked forward. My aunt seemed pleased as she eyed all the stores and shops, probably wondering which one she wanted to conquer first. Everything was either covered in lace, beads, obnoxious prints or weed/stupid-teenager-shit propaganda. None of those really screamed me. My aunt continued forward and I followed her with the faith of a blind man. As we roamed by the food court, I saw more young adults and teenagers in clumps. All of them sporting the latest fashion with more of the latest fashion in bags at their sides. Like a shy five year old I sped up and walked a foot away from Mags, hoping to go unnoticed. I exhaled a breath of relief when we made it through and my stomach turned with stress. I immediately noticed how things calmed down being away from the preppy stores and food. I noticed their were more adults on this side of the mall, noted with more tiny children screaming, but I would prefer that than asinine teenagers.

"I came here the other day, just wondering around," Mags began, of course oblivious to how creepy that was. "And I saw this store and thought of you. If you don't like it that's fine, but..." She shrugged, letting her sentence hang and I followed her in. Inside the music was indie and soft, making you instantly comfortable. I wondered, ignoring the bubbly woman's greeting and let my hands touch the soft material of shirts and jeans. The style the store offered was simple, meant for people who lived for layers and comfort. Almost like the mom version of the lumbersexual phase society enjoyed so much. Their were military boots in soft leather and skinny jeans that weren't going to fall apart after two washes. All the relaxed t-shirts and v-necks were in solid earthy or dark colors and the graphic shirts had something like a dream catcher or cat on it. Which was still odd to me but it was better than lace and frills. I saw a section dedicated to scarves, beanies and small hipster pieces of jewelry and I gave a small smile. I was approached timidly by the previous lady but once she saw my pleased look she loosened up again. I probably looked like a mass murderer when I first walked in. I mentally apologized to her as she listed off the back-to-school sales and I listened carefully, taking note of the areas where she pointed out. I timidly looked through the clearance racks and all the "buy one, get one half off!" sections. I had completely forgot about Mags until she returned with several dresses and expensive looking shoes. I frowned immediately and her face fell.

"Don't pout. You heard the lady and I'm positive those are not part of the deal." I turned back to a flowy dark gray shirt made out of I swear kitten fur. After a moment of her cobalt eyes bearing into me, I looked up again and she awkwardly shuffled away, pretending she wasn't putting up the dress to my body. I would be lying if my eyes didn't linger on it. It was solid white cotton, the bust tighter and then it flowed outwards to just above the knees. The bottom part had a slight hankerchief style with an embroidered design. My aunt paused and I swore.

"What is it, Char?" She purred and I ignored her, my face darkening. I grabbed the shirt and went over to the jeans and leggings. I had lost so much weight I didn't know what would fit... I laid a hand on my stomach, touching my hips and thighs. I grab one that seemed decent and asked the friendly employee for a room. My aunt followed me and I pursed my lips, glaring at her and she wiggled her fingers at me.

"Fine. Here." I took the dress and the pair of jeans and shoved my soon-to-be-mine clothes into her arms and shut the door. I jumped, shocked to see another person and than sighed in annoyance when it was just my own ridiculous reflection. Officially uncomfortable, I took off my clothes and slid on the jeans. They were slightly stiff from being new but they felt amazing. I was slightly proud of myself for picking out a pair that fit me right off the bat. I gave a please grunt and folded them back up. I timidly reached for the dress, closing my eyes as I threw it over my body and adjusted the thin layers underneath and the straps that crossed over.

"How's it going? I want to see." Mags whined and I sighed, blushing as I creaked open the door.

"Oh Charlotte..." Her head tilted and she clasped her hands in front of her chest. "You look gorgeous." I turned back into the stall, looking at myself. I was naturally big boned, I used to be much curvier before the incident, but I wasn't eating as much as I should and running on top of that... I'd lost a good twenty pounds this summer, I wasn't surprised with the pants size I ended up being. I touched my stomach again, looking at myself. I'd never been beautiful or really even attractive, I wore mascara with eyeliner on my top lid, trying to bring out my hazel eyes, and tinted chapstick. Acne had always been a problem and I refused to wear any foundation to help reduce it. Most people thought my freckles and constantly blushing cheeks were endearing but I hated it. I did inherent the Mecham's natural curl though; it was just as crazy as my aunt's but dark brown. I was okay with being average; I didn't care what everyone else thought.

"What do you think? I really do enjoy it on you. Makes your rack look on point." My aunt did the okay symbol with her fingers and clicked her tongue. I looked down at my cleavage and immediately slammed the door shut. Mags snickered and I heard her talking to the worker and needed all these clothes rung up. I blanched, quickly changing and stumbled out the room.

"I - I'm not done!" I accidently shouted and my aunt raised an eyebrow.

"Well, go pick out a couple more things then. I'll wait."

I groaned and shook my head. "I was meaning I needed to put some back. I don't need all these!" I explained, horrified. Her head rolled her head to the side, looking at me while she handed the confused lady her card.

"And the dress too. Plus these." She grabbed a pair of boots from the shelf, one's she must have caught me drooling over. I looked at her speechless, wondering how I was going to pay her back. I needed to get a job anyways. She just sped up the process. I quickly changed, admiring the soft layers of thin cotton and the embroidered details as the lady folded the dress up with my clothes and misellaneous accessories. I practically got a new wardrobe and I was torn between shutting up and enjoying it or throwing a tantrum. I had my head shamefully bowed when we left, both my hands heavy with cute clothing I adored and I couldn't even enjoy it. My aunt ignored my sulking and headed back. The mall was even crazier, it was around noon and my palms began to sweat at the crowds and the noises everyone made. Scuttling feet, half-shouts, abrupt movements and the energy everyone poured out. I swallowed, looking up at my aunt with a silent plea.

"Oh, I guess you're hungry, huh? You should have ate breakfast." My aunt scolded me and headed over to the food court. I thought I was going to burst into tears.

"Can just go home and eat? Please?" I half-whined, slumping my shoulders. Mags looked behind and thought about it then looked back to the food court.

"But... Chinese food."

"Fine. We're getting it to go though." I muttered and entered the hell hole. The smell actually wasn't bad, the food looked decent and I was slightly hopeful I would stomach this. I waited for Mags to chose between the couple of Chinese options and looked shyly at everyone around me. People ranging between thirteen to about twenty were clumped together, but in very selective groups. I noticed a group of high schooler's in about the center of the area, most of them wearing school merchandise and that was what made me curious. They would be going to school with me in less than a week. From their overconfident gestures and the way they were so absorbed into each other I figured it was okay for me to assume they were on the popular end of the school spectrum. Probably juniors and seniors. Some if the men pulled out a hacky-sack and attempted to teach some of the girls there, no doubt trying to boost their ego in any way possible and I sighed, looking away and thought about what sounded good. When it was us next in line, I ordered chicken eggrolls and orange chicken. I looked over at Mags expectedly and she rolled off something in Chinese and the lady at the register looked surprised as she rang it up. I pulled out my card, my aunt went to argue than decided against it with the look on my face. I was technically only suppose to use it in emergencies but I didn't want her to pay for anything else. I stepped to the side, blissfully proud of myself for not being entirely useless and then heard loud shouts. Everyone looked over at the center tables where someone had kicked the hacky-sack to far and it landed a few feet from me. Next, the attention pressed down on me because I was the closest and had the right of a human being to pick it up and return it. I choked, my face burning as the awkwardness set in. I timidly bent over and grabbed it, and the entire food court exhaled and shrugged it off. I avoided the looks of the people my age as I walked over to their group, feeling my heart pound in my ears and my bangs poked my eyes.

"Sorry about that," a guy -probably the ass who over shot it- seemed just as embarrassed as I did. I glanced up at him, seeing a surprisingly cute face with an Oregon Ducks football jersey tank on and a pair of khaki pants with a designer hole in the knee. "I sometimes get a tad bit into it." He had to be from Native American decent, his skin was tan and he had jet black hair that went to the nape of his neck with a curve in his eye shape. I took a breath, realizing I was holding my breath and took in his cologne.

"You're fine, it was a good kick." I said, taking a moment to appreciate the way I didn't butcher that. His grinned widened and I saw nice white chompers. Wait. Was I being flirty?

"Why thank you. Do you play?" he inquired and I thought how much he looked like a puppy when he said that. In a very non-emasculating way. Just saying.

I looked down at the bean bag in his hands, seeing how beat up it was and shook my head. "Oh no, I'd probably poke someone's eye out." Their were several calls from behind him and I shrunk back a tad, hoping I wasn't being obnoxious or like a crazy girl that his homies were trying to save from. Then he laughed and I froze. Time suspended and I watched his mouth widened more and a very contagious sound came out.

"To be honest, I'm pretty shitty too. I only play to hopefully look cool." He winked at me, in a teasing way and I found myself offering a shy smile and a laugh. What was I doing? Was this real life right now or did I hit my head on a clothing rack and was really suffering a concussion in the hospital? He was good on oh-shit-this-is-getting-awkward cues and spoke again. "I'm Nick, by the way. I go to Berkley High." he leaned against a table next to him, propping his hip against it and more panic rose.

"I'm C-Charlotte, I just moved. Well, not just moved but I'll be the new kid." I explained, biting my cheek to stop me from talking any further. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Cool. Do you enjoy it here? and what school?" he seemed to almost shout out the last question and I shrunk back again. Was he getting angry at me? He saw my trepidation and looked down, embarrassed.

"The rain took a while to adjust too but so far I'm enjoying it and well, I'll be going-" I stopped midsentence, hearing someone call out something alarming, like "Watch out" or "Duck" but between the abrupt pain in the side of my face and me stumbling into a chair, I didn't quit catch it.

"Move it, you stupid asshole's!" Mags was at my side within microseconds and I looked up, dazed.

"I'm okay," I murmured, looking at the several unknown faces around me. "What hit me?" I blinked back the tears, hoping to keep my shit together. It wasn't even from the pain, I just felt like a fool.

"I'm so sorry, girl! I meant to hit Nicky and you were in the way."

"Bullshit, you just have a shitty aim, bruh."

"Shut up!"

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts and stood. "It's fine." I groaned and shooed away the nosy people. "I'll be going now." I half-hoped Nick would magically show up but as I scanned the crowd, I knew that was just a one time thing. Mags watched me hold back my tears as we left, the conversation and laughter picking back up and I was immediately forgotten about. I told myself I would never go back out into society again.

"I can't believed you got a shoe thrown at you." Mags fumed as she patted at the scratch on the side of my face with her essential oil. I shrugged, sighing.

"It's seriously okay. I'm over it, I'm accident prone even when I'm standing still."

"Eh, fidgeting is more appropriate."

"Huh? Ouch." I winced at she pushed to hard. It was definitely going to bruise.

"You said you were standing still but awkwardly shuffling your feet and pushing your hair out of your face isn't really being still."

I blanched, feeling my previous embarrassment rise up again. "I looked like a fool."

"No, it was kinda cute," she smiled at me softly, her eyes warm. "I was into it just as much as buffo-Indian guy was." She winked and threw away the cotton ball. My paling face reversed and I looked away.

"He was just being polite." I muttered, standing up. She had tried to bring him up every chance she got. I didn't want her to know that I was secretly excited for school and maybe it was because of him? I hated myself for being so weak and faint-hearted. I just thought he was nice, a good person to talk too. He wasn't totally revolted by me and I didn't think he was too bad... "I'm going to do the dishes." I walked away, needing a distraction or my mind was going to go crazy.
I filled the sink with dish soap and warm water, scrubbing the dishes and I tried not to think to hard. The kitchen was done in a very loft-style; the cement counter tops -which I'd never seen before- the black vintage cupboards and the exposed duct and pipe work on the ceiling and walls. Their was a bar in the corner, made from mismatched scraps of brick -most with chunks missing- and paint covered metal stools she stole from the school she use to work for as revenge. The counter was a nice slab of black granite and behind it was a very extreme range of alcohol. Some illegally imported from Japan and Mexico. The rest of the house kind of stuck with the art-studio-in-Brooklyn feel; out in the living room were aged pieces of furniture and leather couches. The floor was textured cement but with a massive bohemian rug thrown on top to save your feet and the wall facing the front of the house had brick coming up to your waist that matched the bar. All of the light fixtures were metal and very contemporary, giving the place a art museum display kind of feel and it basically was. Canvases and nicely framed piece's hung on the walls, most of them either still life's from her days of studying abroad or gifts from fellow artists. Occasionally their was one with a nipple or side-dick hanging out that made me slightly blush but I still found all of the paintings or drawings beautiful and calming. She had more downstairs, the one's she valued a tad bit more I suppose and even a collection at the museum they displayed every couple years to highlight local artists.
My room wasn't as moody and artistic as the rest of the house. I had actual carpet and a balcony with a Romeo and Juliet vibe. Their was my queen size been set on a DIY platform and a handmade headboard as well. I had my own bookshelf, filled with worn paperbacks from the used book bins in stores and from miscellaneous yard sales, and a writing desk that sat next to it with my current reading book on it and notebooks filled with random poems and short stories. The desk was antique and Mags had to fight to the death at some auction for it only to realize she didn't have room for it in her bedroom. I was "holding onto it" until she figured something else out. My dresser sat on the opposite wall filled with clothes I now had to either send home or put in storage. I felt like a brat and a tad bit like a traitor to my usual practical ways. My old clothes were still functioning; just because they were deemed old in the fashion world didn't require a new wardrobe. And I knew my aunt wanted to just spoil me, kind of like when you take in a stray kitten and you buy it the best food and a shit ton of squeaky toys? I forced myself to stay thankful and reminded myself that all of it was on clearance anyways and saved a lot of money. I did have a few other decorations as well, on my wall -hung on twine with mini-clothespins- were black and white printed photos of my own adventures; like when I visited California with friends last summer or when my mom and I went to top-notch designer store and tried on all the hideous dresses. I also had a lamp that sat on my nightstand.

"Char? How do you feel about dogs?" she called from the hallway, coming into the kitchen. I set the dishes on the drying mat, giving her a look.

"Eh. I prefer cats." I shrugged, wondering what she was thinking. She mused over it for a bit, looking at her phone and then back to a spot behind me.

"You come off as a cat person," she nodded. "My friend's dog just had puppies and she's looking for good homes. Would you want to go over there tomorrow?" she raised an eyebrow and I shrugged.

"Sure. I also need to get applications while we're out too." I decided, knowing if I didn't do it soon I wouldn't at all. My life struggles.

"Mmk, you should check online. See if anyone locally is looking." Berkley was an average, medium city. Not small enough to be considered a hick town where everyone knew each other but not a big city either, like Portland. And it was about an hours drive from the coast, which was a plus. I headed to my bedroom after I cleaned the kitchen, opening my laptop to check my emails. I got a few from my mom, which was typical and a couple from my aunt and uncle, who treated me more like a younger sister than a niece. I responded to all of them, keeping them up on my boring life and told them about the mall and the shoe story. I went to say "Nick" than put "some guy" instead. I drifted on the internet for a while, bouncing back from one thing after another. It was more of a way to feel connected to the world more than anything, to see people's lives progress and everything constantly being updated. I lived such a steady life, it felt like I was slowly rotting away. I missed the old me, I realized when I put the laptop away and laid on my bed. I was reckless sure, always giving my mother something to bitch and worry about, but I never had this... hollowness in my chest before. This craving in my chest cavity that began to stir well past my aunt had gone to bed and midnight had long been gone. The bastard had took something from me. And I wanted it back.