Amos

I leaned and breathed.
I could hear the water beating what should have been tile but was probably angled cement; the squishing of naked feet.
The vice grip on the key carved the rigid contour of the key hole into my palm. The soft padding turning a blistered red and then white, matching the equally strained knuckles of the fingers keeping safe in my hold.
It itched and wanted to use it, the need to free my hand from the enticing burn.
I pulled away from the door, staring at it lividly. With a calm collectiveness, I bent my knees to drop the key on the rug before his door. It was a dirty bronze of whicker, keeping its job of cleanliness even if the mat itself weren’t.
The key’s color resembled the wiring and almost seemed to sink into the loopy pattern until finally, disappearing for good.
It would only be found, if say, you stepped on it, the missing balance giving the key away right before the wires sprang back up in life after the footstep.
I turned away, grim at the idea of leaving it behind but still reminding me it was for the better.
If I can listen to him showering and yearn to take a peak inside, I’ve reached my limits and must return to the casual stroll of the dull reality.
Amos is a fictitious character and Glen was a stranger who I gave more attention than I should have.
Next time I baby-sit, I’ll tell my aunt Karen was bipolar and only a fraction of the crazy shit she shared with me. It didn’t matter anymore how she would react.
Its amazing when one realizes their potential has been stored beneath an uncertain personality full of dubious faults and hard core dependency.
There is a single shard of your life, and in a moment you see everything clearly.
Its not like the moment people describe when they are seconds away from their own demise, but with clarity that seemed far more translucent compared to your usual view of the world, you words, actions and thoughts make sense.
And that is all that matters.
When you have touched that moment, it is the only clear signal on which to rely on, your next move depending on one very important thing.
Will you do what is right or not?
If the answer is yes, you walk away from the door of a minor you were told was your true love.
If the answer is no, you destroy yourself trying to understand how what your doing is backed by anything that had made sense before and if all those things weigh more in the scale of you and your needs over what is right.
And looking for more in Glen than the little bit I have found is unnecessary.
My jaw and muscles are tight, my head tilted back and eyes strung ahead, daring anyone to question my decision.
But who would?
Who but me cares?
Blair isn’t real, she doesn’t count and if Glen’s should, then point be made that he doesn’t know about it yet, if, it were true.
When I got home I received my brother’s usual sermon on how poor Glen was mistreated by society and things happened for a reason.
So I nodded reasonably to him and whilst taking up my basket of fresh laundry told him that Glen was a big boy and he could take care of himself. Just like him.
That ruffled his feathers to a degree to which he could not come up with a reply even by the time I went back down the stairs.
I think that was the last time we spoke of Glen until at the end of the high school semester, Cedric mumbled out during dinner that the Badminton team was over.
I raised a curious eyebrow. “How come?”
Hesitantly and with a large pout, he told me about Glen’s departure.
I didn’t understand him at first, trying to tie pieces of his words to understand their meaning.
And when I did, the food went sour the air tasted of bile and my stomach strangely seized on me. Even though I wasn’t prepared for the news, I should have been able to handle it with mild shock. Glen had been forgotten months ago.
But it was not so. I dropped my fork and worked my way into asking my brother questions as if I really had not care about the situation at all.
My eyes kept faltering when trying o meet his.
“He’s going back to Canada, his mother’s got cancer.”
“But he’ll be back during the next school year, right?”
Cedric lost interest in his food and got up with his dish to go throw it away. “Naw, he got his GED. He’s not coming back.”
It wasn’t that big of a deal.
So I still don’t understand why two months later, I have a job, I’m registered for community college classes and I still haven’t gotten my period.

(A/N: Just in case if any of the readers are freaking out, its not the end of the story, Please review on opinions so far!)