Author's Note: You guys are lucky I have no homework :D. All right, this chapter at first seems pretty light. Well, you are mistaken. It gets pretty dark, I'd give the later part of this chapter an 'M' because, I think it gets pretty bad... honestly that's how I felt last night while writing, the episode "Hyde Moves In" helped me so much to write this (I watched it twice last night:D, cried the first... I'm a baby). Well, I think this is probably the best chapter written, has more of the first chapter feel, rather than the humor, yet there is some. I just want to warn you. :). Oh, check out the song "Dead Flowers" by The Rolling Stones, that's the song featured in this chapter. (It could go along well with two people it talks about later, I think you'll know who)
Love,
ARH.
PS: I'm pretty sure this is the longest chapter yet!! :D Told you the last ones would be longer hahaha.
"Oh, Steven!"
I spun around quickly, wincing and smiled at the people standing in the doorway.
"Mrs. Forman," I began to limp over to the family, but was stopped by Kitty, who scrambled over and squeezed me tight. I bit my lip, and suppressed a grunt of pain, trying my best not to let the very short and petite woman know that her embrace was just a little more than slightly painful.
"I'm so glad you're coming home!" I smiled forcefully at her as she squealed, and nodded, still attempting to hide the fact that her hug… well… hurt.
"Me too," I mumbled weakly as she let go, still beaming at me; like I was a son who just helped the football team win. Someone she was so proud of. But, of course, I wasn't deserving of that pride. And Forman seemed really happy that I was going back home. Hell, even Red had a smile, a very minuscule smile, but there was definitely something there. And that's all that mattered.
I was still afraid of this; a loving family, a secure home, and I lived there! I had found home in an environment polar opposite of what I grew up with, and though it's been a couple years now, it's still sometimes hard to get used to. I mean, fresh and hot breakfasts when I wake up, people wanting to see the best of me, encouraging me to be the person who they know is locked up tight within. It was weird, but I loved it. I didn't feel like an outsider any longer, I knew that I did belong. And like Red's microscopic smile, I felt that, and knew it was there. That's what mattered the most. So why did I feel so scared?
"Eric, Get Steven's bag," Red barked, Forman met eyes with me and I shook my head, chuckling softly.
"It's fine, I can get my stuff, Mr. Forman." I hoisted the bag over my shoulder, and a gradual, yet intense burning followed. I gritted my teeth and stumbled forward; it shocked me that I was still in so much pain.
After Red forced me to hand my bag over to Forman, and the nurses, plus Kitty, battled against me to sit in a wheelchair, I was completely swept of my dignity. I flipped Forman off after he grinned wickedly at me, Kitty pushing me merrily down the halls of the hospital. Hide me.
Red signed the release forms, and I found out that I'd have to do a drug test everyday for two months. It was extremely hard to act like I was fine with that, and that it didn't affect me at all, yet I had my new sunglasses, so it was all right.
It felt incredible to be free. As soon as Kitty walked out of the hospital, I shot up from the wheel chair, and Forman snickered. Kitty glared at me but sighed, turning the chair around and taking it in. There was no use arguing, I had agreed to be pushed out until I left the premises of the hospital- I considered that indoors only. The warm sun hit my skin and felt so hot compared to moments just before in the hospital, where it felt like the average temperature was barely above freezing.
No more rock hard hospital bed, or disgusting food, or nurses checking on me every hour, or lack of privacy. I could relax and eat whatever I wanted, and feel comfortable again. And I'd be able to sleep.
Kitty glanced back at me from the passenger seat and smiled happily. I responded with the same, kind gesture, then turned to my reflection in the window; two one thing in particular. No, not the wounds or bruises, not my too curly hair, or the 5 o'clock shadow that needed to be shaved. But my eyes. I was happy, but I couldn't see that. So, could no one else?
I did the unthinkable. Something that shocked Forman to the point his jaw dropped. Self consciously, I lifted the glasses Jackie bought me off of my face. After staring at them for quite some time, I tucked them in their case, hidden at the top of my bag. Never would I have taken my sunglasses off so people could know I was happy. But, it seemed the right thing to do, especially for the Forman's. I wanted them to know that I was happy.
My mind began to replay moments and conversations that have happened over the past few days. Donna kissing me, telling me that if I had talked to her way back when, we'd be dating. How we both went against our best friend, how I still cared for her. And then Jackie; the girl I loathed, until earlier today. I saw a side of Jackie I didn't think anyone else has ever seen. Not even Kelso. So, why me?
I actually agreed with Jackie, shocker. She knew how I felt, but how? And who? She's always been with Kelso, the guy she's always loved since I knew her. She told me it wasn't my fault, and that it was on Donna; for leading me on, and breaking me.
Donna really did piss me off. How could she just kiss me? How could she blame me for that? No, it wasn't my fault, and she couldn't blame me. I wouldn't let her.
It was like, these past few days, I've grown, emotionally. I feel, I show and tell, I don't want to hide anymore. There was a slight boost in a confidence parked in the negatives. And strangely, it was because of Jackie Burkhart. How the hell did that work out?
"Hyde!" Forman exclaimed, slugging my arm softly. I snapped my head to face my friend. "We're home, you fell asleep." I did? "Yeah, it was fuckin' hilarious; are you hiding something from me?"
My heart violently pounded in my chest as fear, once again, took a hold of me. Oh, God, what did I do? Did I say something out loud?
"No man, why?" I questioned hesitantly. Forman burst out laughing and I bit my lip nervously.
"Jackie… oh Jackie…" Forman fake moaned the name in between fits of laughter. "You were saying her name… over and over…. You better be glad Mom and Dad didn't hear… I was laughing my ass of man!"
"Oh God, that's just wrong!" I shuddered, but felt embarrassed. What was… how did… what the fuck?! In just a few hours time, did I switch my feelings from Donna to… Jackie? The thought was an anvil in my brain and I felt a chill sweep through me.
No. No I don't like Jackie. I don't I don't I don't I don't I don't I don't don't don't don't don't don't don't like Jackie Burkhart!
Eric just nodded and smirked while laughing softly still. I glared viciously at him; though the thought of me liking Jackie was better than him suspecting I liked Donna.
As soon as Forman and I stepped indoors, we ran straight to the basement. By the time I was down the stairs, Forman was lying stretched out on the couch. I dropped my olive green ratty gym bag with a thud, and hobbled over to sit on the couch beside my best friend. My eyes stared at the television screen with no interest as he flipped through the channels.
My hand sunk in between the couch cushions, searching for a notebook of mine. I felt the heavy paper cover sharply cut against my hand, and I cursed quietly. Setting the book on my lap, I pulled the pencil from the metal spiral binding, and opened to a blank page. With pencil in hand, I began to sketch a picture that seemed to pop into my head a lot. I didn't know what it was, but it seemed as if my mind shoved little bits and pieces of it, like a puzzle, and I had to put it together on paper.
Eric eyed me curiously, but went back to flipping through the few television channels they had. A form of insecurity waved through me as I began to outline the image in my mind. He was still pretty shocked that I had artistic skills, no one really knows that I can paint, draw, and write. Hell, the only thing anyone knows about me is that my favorite 'hobby' was smoking herb, and my favorite band was Led Zeppelin. But, since I moved into the Forman's basement, Eric kept finding out little bits of random information about me. For example, if anyone tried to wake me, either I wouldn't hear the person, and continue in slumber, or I'd kill them. Also, I will not under any circumstances eat any form of pork; it makes me sick. Also, unlike him, I wear my clothes to bed (I still remember the night I walked up to the kitchen at 3 in the morning and found him drinking milk… naked… Oh God). I shuddered at that thought and sighed softly, now beginning to shade in my drawing in the making.
"Now what are you drawing?" Forman asked to break the silence.
"I dunno, something in my head that I've seen. It's weird man, cause I dunno what it is. I just see little bits, but they make one big thing."
"Well, what do you see now?"
"A brown eye." Eric nodded slowly, not questioning what I saw. Since it was me, it would probably turn out to be something like a monster… or a bunny. One or the other.
While I continued to sketch, Forman ended up turning off the television, and informed me he was going to Donna's. I nodded, then asked him if on his way out he could turn on the record player, and after doing so, he quickly high-tailed it. It was weird; I didn't feel any jealousy when he mentioned Donna… I guess that's a good thing. I shrugged to myself and continued on with this drawing, shading in the second almond shaped eye. This looked oddly familiar, as I could that this wasn't a thing, but a person.
My eyes traveled to the record player, the room filling with the sound of The Rolling Stones. Content, I sighed and reclined on the couch once again, taking the pencil in my left hand now, drawing just as well.
If I wasn't smoking it up, my other release was music. The heavy guitars and wicked riffs were absolutely incredible, with a mean drum solo, heavy bass, and of course, and angry voice. It was like all of the artists knew me, and could write songs to fit my experiences. I always felt connected and actually happy when I listened to music. Now, if I had combined music with herb, I was in paradise.
One thing I hated though, was the music, they lyrics, sometimes they got me thinking. They got me to remember things, little things in the past that haunt me to this day. And my future, which right now was nothing; and I hated it. Sometimes it was just a slap in the face, and a way for me to hate everything about myself even more.
I scowled; this would be one of those times. The song playing made me sick; I loved the Stones but… this song fit too well. I grudgingly listened to the sound of Mick Jagger's voice and began to tremble.
"Well I hope you won't see me in my ragged company. Well, you know I could never be alone. Take me down little Susie, take me down, I know you think you're the queen of the underground. And you can send me dead flowers every morning. Send me dead flowers by the mail, send me dead flowers to my wedding, and I won't forget to put roses on your grave. Well when you're sitting back in your rose pink Cadillac, making bets on Kentucky Derby Day. Ah, I'll be in my basement room with a needle and a spoon. And another girl to take my pain away…"
For some reason, this song always made me think of my mom. And I couldn't think about her, it didn't matter. I didn't care about her, so what was the point? I never wondered where she was, or if she was happy. I never was curious as to if she missed me, or even thought about me. I didn't want to get a random phone call from her, telling me she was a changed person, who felt shitty for all the crap she did to me. And maybe she'd even say that she was coming home… to stay. I also didn't miss her, or long from a hug from my own mother; Kitty was enough. I didn't want to hear her tell me she was proud of the man I have become, and that she loved me. I never wanted to hear those words; never at all.
Misery and anger began to stir within me. This is what happens when I take it too far. I had begun to let people in my life; show my emotions. I didn't want that! My mom's absence never affected me that much… okay, it did. But, I never let it show. So, why now?
My body began to shake with rage as the song "Dead Flowers" continued to play. The voice and words filled my ears, fuelling my rage. "And you can send me dead flowers every morning. Send me dead flowers by the mail, send me dead flowers to my wedding, and I won't forget to put roses on your grave." Clenching my fists, I stood up and began to pace. Zen, was now out the window, which meant my mind would race with all the things I thought… not good.
I was lame, a low life. My dad left me, not caring at all. My mom abandoned me for a stupid trucker. The girl I thought I loved was leading me on, and my best friend seemed afraid of me. AS of now, I had nothing and nowhere I was headed. No goals, or future, or money, nothing.
The lyrics carved into my head, and I finally couldn't take it. My anger was finally at the bursting point, I could no longer keep this inside of me… it was too much.
Shooting off the couch, I roared angrily, tears streaming down my face as I screamed. I stormed the record player, and ripped out the album, then broke it in half.
"God dammit!" I bellowed, chucking the vinyl pieces every which way and hurled myself at the wall as I punched with all my strength. It was a good thing that the walls were sound proof, other wise Kitty or Red would be coming down here at any moment; not that they still wouldn't. Anyone would, because I never act on my emotions, I never let my anger get this bad… I wouldn't be too surprised if the neighbor didn't come to the door and question if everything was okay. It wasn't good for me to let my anger get like this, for one, it was so hard for me to calm down again, and also, I held it all in.
"Stupid… fucking… GOD!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, aimed at one person only. I kicked the wall and stormed into my small bedroom area in the basement. I hurled objects and screamed and curled, then found myself crying.
"Just like a fucking baby," I whimpered, trying to halt the water works. I threw a weak punch at the wall once more, before letting the sob fest possess me.
I lost myself fin the breakdown, now I was reduced to the person I really am; a mess. I curled up against the wall, my body shaking and screaming at me for the abuse that had just taken place. God, what was fucking wrong with me?
"God dammit," I whispered, breathing slowly to stop crying. "Get a hold of yourself, you stupid fuck up."
Pulling off my glasses, I rubbed my eyes and then averted my view to the ceiling, to concentrate on the lines in the paint; a way for me to get myself together. My breathing was growing softer as I calmed, slowly, but surely. This is exactly why I keep everything bottled inside, and nothing was ever supposed to break the bottle permanently. But it seemed that sometime in the past couple days, I allowed someone to mess with said bottle… maybe even me.
A soft creak came from outside of my room, on the floor. Someone was down here; oh shit. Then a very soft gasp that was almost a whisper; they were caught. I tensed immediately, someone had seen my blow up probably. I'm sure of it. I'd probably be going back to the hospital now, for mental instability; joy! Well, I was stable, I was just pissed, dammit!
"S-Steven…?" The high, soft, and slightly annoying voice stuttered my name. I turned my head, ever so slowly to the doorway, and saw a crying… wait… Jackie was crying?
"What?!" I snapped angrily, but before she said anything, and before I could stop her, she scrambled over and hugged me tightly as she sobbed into my shoulder.
My emotions were raw, and my head was fuzzy with confusion right now. What the fuck was Jackie thinking? What was she doing?!
But, I just stayed there instead of lashing out again, too weak. The two of us curled up on my bedroom floor, and I was holding the girl I would never expect to be in my arms whilst I try to reassure her.
But what about me?
