Not Like The Others -2 HIATUS

Things like that happen in Jersey all the time. Not to me specifically, but it happens, so I brushed it off as if it were dust and locked the bathroom door. I turned on a shower and threw a towel over the top of the door and waited it to get hot.
I shut the window and pulled down the blinds for extra measure.
I stripped off my clothes and padded into the small box. Hot water ran over my body and washed the dirt off my skin.
I hadn't been able to take a shower in four days. For a dude, that'd be nothing. But I'm used to being clean, taking showers and whatnot. But my mom was late paying the water bill, and when the water finally got turned back on, all she did was yell at me, and keep me in the basement.
The basement is like a time out corner, really.
You do nothing, keep thinking 'it's not fair' and 'I didn't do anything' and just pout.

I wiped my face on the towel and started to wash my hair and body.
When I was done I washed off and stood there for a few more minutes, relishing in the heat and water.
I turned off the shower head and ringed out my long-ish hair and wrapped a towel around my lower half.
I quickly skipped out the bathroom and the next room over to my room where I locked the door and dried completely off.

I pulled on a Black Flag shirt and sweatpants and flopped on my bed and stared up at the blank ceiling. It was dark, and I couldn't exactly see the ceiling, where it started and where it ended, but I knew it was where I was looking.
Today was Thursday. Just one more day of the hellhole and I'll be able to do whatever I want for two days, then it's back into the seven stages of hell or whatever it's called.

I used to go to Catholic school but I got kicked out.
I didn't pay attention, didn't do my work, but the one last trick that got me kicked out was that I took paint from the store and ran down the hall, splashing red, yellow, and blue paint on the ground and walls.
I thought it was funny, but then again I was only in sixth grade.
…I still think it's funny.
I just thought the place needed color.
I guess you could also say I was trying to buy my way out of the place.
I gained a lot of respect from some students that were on my side about things, but on the other hand, the rest of the school hated my guts.
I still think it's hilarious.

My mom wasn't a total drunk then, so I only got smacked and grounded for three months.
She started to get fucked up when I was in eighth grade.
I guess I started to get fucked up then too.
I suppose we're all fucked up.

I tried not to think, so I rolled over and shut my eyes.

~~~~~~~Time Lapse~~~~~~

I woke up the next morning to my alarm beeping in my ears. I blindly found it and chucked it across the room. It hit the wall and the sound stopped. The silence rung in my ears.
I swung my legs around and traded my sweatpants for skinny jeans. I pulled on Etnies.
As I laced them up, I kept thinking how much I don't wanna go to school.
I've skipped a few times, and I almost always got away with it. I remember the first time I skipped, I did nothing, just wandering around town and being more bored than I would be in school. The second time I got caught because my mom was driving to work, and she passed me.
The third time I got smarter, and knew my whereabouts and everyone else's.
I never got caught since.
I groaned and stood back up, got my bag, and went downstairs to the kitchen.
My mom wasn't there. The lights were off, but I could still see. Empty tables, stained countertops, empty coffee machine that's never used, and pulled in chairs.
It seems like a normal kitchen, but so much has gone in this room, I can't even begin to explain.
I heard footsteps trail up the basement and muttered curses.
"Bye mom." I said and went out the back door.
I knew she watched me go. Not because she doesn't want me to go or to know I'm safe, but so she knows I won't skip and I'm going in the right direction. She doesn't know I know, but I do know. Y'know?
So I went down the driveway and made my way to my bus stop. It's too bad that it's only down the street so I can easily be seen by other kids at the stop or my driver if he's there.
It just so happens he was there, so I cut through someone's lawn beside me. I had to hop the fence to do so.
They have a sign that says 'BEWARE OF DOG' but it's all a hoax.
I crossed the lawn and peered out beside the trees.
I could see my backdoor and fence from a particular view. My mom wasn't there. So I hopped the next fence and the next till I got back to my front door and stuffed my bag underneath a big bush next to the shed.
I sprinted back out of my property and moved down the opposite side of the road.

I know what to do. Like getting on the fence and rolling inside the bathroom, I've done it so many times before, it's just easy.
I've done the exact same thing several times.
I use the same shortcuts and go down the same roads and enter the same stores where I know nobody would notice me or care that a high school student isn't in school.
There's a little 'hidden' house. It just seems hidden because it had a huge front lawn and trees.
An old man lives there with his aging golden retriever. I used to play with the pup when I was little.
Oh how times have changed…
I used to have respect for this man. I used to like him and he used to talk to my mom. But now the two act like they don't know each other, and I'm hopping over his fence to avoid walking down a few streets.
And the part some people would call sad is, I just don't fucking care.

Too much shit has happened and I guess I've grown up faster than I should have to care.
But it's weird. It doesn't make sense. I'm not mature, I still act just as obnoxious, but…
I don't know. It's hard to explain.

I walked to his backyard and kept moving, maneuvering around holds the dog has created. Speaking of dog, I heard a low growl.
I turned and spotted the chained up dog sitting on the wooden porch. He saw me and I saw him, but he growled, snarling and glaring at me.
I turned back around and kept moving.
Like we didn't know each other.

I skipped that fence too and landed on a packed dirt ground that was like a little piece of land before a sidewalk. Cars went by, driving past trees and the old cemetery. I crossed the street and breathed out.
It was cold, but not nearly as cold as it was yesterday.
The fence of the cemetery was different. It was black and sharp like the garden fence, but it was steel, not wooden.
The last time I tried to hop that fence, my arm got cut by the tip and I landed on a grave.
So for extra precautions, I moved down the small piece of land that's before the sidewalk (that needs to have a name) next to the cemetery and kept walking.

I used to come here to the graveyard with two of my friends- Patrick and Ally.
We used to all get bulled, saying that Ally is coming along so she can suck a dick. And me and Patrick were called faggots.
We didn't care though.
We used to sit by the graves at night, hide from the police lights and eat junk food from the store down the street. That's basically all we did. Hide, eat, and talk.
It was innocent.
I was at the gate. It was locked, of course. But there's a gap between the fence and the ground here. Only a cat could really get through. But I'm small, too short for my age, and skinny.
I easily fit through, save some trouble with my head. But after that, it's all easy.
As soon as I was in, I smelled the same scent of loneliness and sorrow.
Yes, they have a smell. A very reassuring smell.
I walked down the dirt path, the wind blowing and leaves falling. I sat in front of a grave and stayed that way for minutes.