alright ↠ dylan o'brien

three.

You have a hollowed out heart but it's heavy in your chest.

  I try so hard to fight it but it's hopeless.

You're hopeless.

-For The Love of a Daughter by Demi Lovato

Lola

It was my birthday. I didn't know what to make of it. The last time I had celebrated it was when Sammy, mom, and Dave had still been here. Now it was just Ray. I didn't know whether he'd take notice that I was turning seventeen or not.

He had started getting bad again.

The cold nipped at my skin as I made my way down the driveway. My house looked different— darker and sadder. Ever since the daily visits from our friends and family had ended, everything had become silent. Every relative I had really known had come from my mom's side of the family. Nobody liked Ray, and that's why no one came around anymore.

As I entered my house, a strange sense of coldness washed over me. I felt that a lot lately ever since the house had lost its usual fragrance of vanilla and cinnamon. Mom always used to bake.
All I had to do was finish my homework before I could get ready for the party, though I really had no idea how to get ready for a party. I had never even been invited to one, let alone gone to one.
I was in a dull mood, knowing that I had nothing good to wear to the party and that I would most likely embarrass myself. I didn't think Ray was home. If he was, I would just go upstairs to avoid him and finish my homework. Ever since he had hit me on the day I had found the train tracks, talking to him wasn't on my list of things to do.

Ray had hit me before. He used to back when Mom was here, because I always got in the way. But that was the first time he had touched me since she died.

I set my bag down on the table and sighed when I heard Ray's voice telling me to make dinner from the living room.

"I have a lot of homework."

"Make dinner."

"Fine."

I made pasta with butter and brought it into the living room, setting it down in front of Ray. He was strewn across the couch, a beer in his right hand. He looked at the pasta with an expression of distaste and grumbled as he turned his attention back to the TV.

I sighed again before quietly walking back to the kitchen to bring my bag and a bowl of pasta upstairs to my room. The floorboards creaked on my way up. They never did that last year. Ray had somehow turned our somewhat-happy house into a sad place I never even wanted to think about.

*~*~*

I almost jumped out of my skin when my door slammed open an hour later. Beer in hand, Ray stormed into my room. His hair was messy, eyes bloodshot, clothes wrinkled.

"What day is it today?" he demanded angrily, looking around my room.

My heart still racing a mile a minute, I just stared at Ray, my eyes as wide as the ocean. I didn't dare move a muscle-- I was too shocked to.

Ray didn't wait for my answer and made his way over to the doors that led to my balcony, mumbling words I didn't understand. He just looked out of the window, eyes wide and bloodshot as if he hadn't slept in days. My nerves were chaotic, the anxiety growing stronger inside of me with every passing second.