Chapter 5

Sky sat on her bed, the curtains drawn, allowing only a sliver of the sun's raise to illuminate the the filthy room. Under normal conditions, one would have been able to see the fluffy white carpets but, an array of dirty clothes and memory provoking pictures sprinkled the ground, as their empty frames eerily hung from the light green walls. Bits of crumbs littered her bed and the odor of melted half eaten ice cream only added the the sense of decay.

She denied the mirror of light, she could not stand to have weakness reflected at her. Tears and  wasted effort marred the girl's beautiful face. Her long blonde hair, matted and sticking in all directions from the futile attempts to control pathetic sobs, by suffocating herself in pillows. 

Echoing thoughts of unworthiness were the only arms that held her now; Her boyfriend left her and after all this time, she still did not understand. He didn't just leave her, he left her to rot; abandoned her for some skank. 

It didn't help that he left no clear reason, no pieces to pick up, no puzzle to solve. Nothing. All she had were fading memories which she clung to for dear life, as if they contained life. Which for her, in a way, they sort of did. Because maybe, just maybe if she were to replay the memories over and over she could figure out how to get him back, or at least understand why he left.

'Or maybe, I'll find a way to hurt him really badly, but no, It wouldn't work anyways.'

When she and Patrick had first broken up, she was just enraged, not heartbroken, or at least she managed to conceal the hurt, even from herself, with anger. That anger drove her to go on a hook up rampage; going to parties and clubs every weekend with her friends, getting wasted, and making out with nearly any guy. It seemed to help in the moment, but, in the long run, it made things so much worse; And she didn't realize it for months.

She had tried for so long but, she could no longer pretend that everything was ok. It was breaking her, her armor wearing thin.

 Things were supposed to get better, she was supposed to be able to move on, that's what time did, not worsen the situation. But she just could not shake the feelings.

'What is so terrible about me? Why did he feel like he had to leave me? What does he see in her, that he doesn't see in me?'

Sky rolled over to examine her dimly lit room, she didnt even feel the new sense of dread wash over her, another level of self loathing. Her room was a complete disaster, it was as if a tornado had swept through, allowing chaos to stake dominance over her previously spotless dwelling. 

Anger flickered, the sudden awareness of the condition of her room sparked something within her. Something that she had subconsciously assumed long dead. Her room was something that she controlled, one of the only things she had real control over, and it was a mess, out of order. Before everything had a place, a slot where it belonged; there was a tranquility accompanied by such simplistic orderliness. How dare that stupid boy take that away from her.

 'He can take away my happiness, but he will not take away my will. This is all his fault, but I won't let him continue to control me like this any more.' 

Gripped by determination, Sky began to methodically clean her room. There was an elegant peace brought on by distraction, she knew it would last only as long as she was moving. But there was something else as well: she was actually doing something for herself. Not just because she had to, like homework, but because she wanted to do it. The control was a gratifying self-indulgence 

After about 45 minutes the room was again immaculate, the ice cream thrown away, the sheets and comforter in the wash, down the hall, the carpet vacuumed, the pictures filled into a drawer.  

She was satisfied except for the fact that the frames stared blankly at her, empty. After a few moments hesitation, she went into her closet and pulled out a few boxes. Finally, she found the one she was looking for, the one that contained her high school pictures, the ones with her and her old best friends. 

'Abby, Margret, and Jessica. I miss those crazy girls so much, I had so much fun with them, all the parties we went to, all the things we went through together, they always knew how to cheer me up. I wish they were here right now'

A few tears trickled down her face as she placed the pictures in their frames, it wasn't a weeping cry, it was just a slightly remorseful one, one that whispered of a dull ache. An ache of longing, for things to be the way they were before, how simple things were when she was back in high school.  An ache of resignation, for putting the picture up was a sign of moving on.