I've Been Here All Along

Screaming awoke me from my gentle sleep. The sun wasn't even close to popping over the horizon but I was up, and I was pissed because I didn't want to be. The sheets were off my bed and on the floor indicating I was dreaming about something prior, but I couldn't remember what of. Knowing me, which I think I did pretty well, I was probably dreaming about vampires and zombies finally giving up their differences and finally loving each other.

A distant bang shook me from my macabre thoughts and I flinched. Even though I was always believed to be tough I always hated when people around me fought. It was probably my sister and her boyfriend fighting. More like Travis fought and Claire begged him to stop. They fought all the time and my family just ignored it because his dad was the chief of police. The chief of fucking police and his son is off getting drunk and beating on my sister. It angered the fuck out of me, but I knew I couldn't do anything. I could be charged with assault and be sent to prison because everyone knew that Travis was such a little "angel" around his parents.

"Olivia, darling, are you alright?" My mom asked as she opened my door. By now I was sitting up in my bed waiting for the will to get up to flood my body.

"Yeah. Is Travis over again?" I asked sadly, a frown tugging at the corners of my lips. I fucking hated him. Claire was the prettiest thing and I didn't understand how she ended up with such scum.

"Unfortunately, yes. Are you up for good?" She asked still leaning in the doorway. Her eyes scanned my room admiring my paintings and posters. My mother encouraged me in everything I decided to do. Drawing, painting, or even playing music. She was always there for me, at every art show, convention, or concert. Both she and my dad were very supportive and I loved them for it.

"Yup." I said rubbing my eyes, eye boogers and makeup washing off onto my hands.

"Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me then darling?" She asked smiling.

"Do bears poop in the woods?" I said excitedly, hopping out of my bed. I loved coffee, especially in the middle of the night with my mother. She was always so mellow and she let me talk without judging and telling me to grow the fuck up, which is probably what I needed, but I appreciated that she didn't.

"You're such a weirdo." She said chuckling. I followed her out the door and down the creaky stairs. My father had already left for work by now, knowing his early morning schedule. He used to let me stay up and watch T.V. with him because he's cool like that, he'd even play video games with me. Like, how cool is that?

The coffee bubbled into the pot after my mom shut the lid. I sat by the island and inhaled the strong scent of the delicious brewing liquid. If you didn't actually know me you'd say I was addicted to coffee, but shit, you'd probably be right. I couldn't even stay awake without the stuff and I always was found with a thermos full of it no matter where I went. Except, if I was at a place where I could get coffee. I was found at the local cafe most of the time just drawing and writing shit. I always drew my dream boy for some reason and it was like I had seen him before because his face was etched into my memories. Even if I was just doodling at school I would look through my notes to study and just find drawings of him sitting smiling up at me, or standing against a pole enjoying the fresh air in the night. Yes, I drew full scenic picture and
yes, I was fucking proud of them.

"So kiddo, how's everything been?" My mom asked as she leaned against the fridge. It was her thing to stand while the coffee was brewing. She always did it, she just never sat down till every drop was milked from the coffee grounds.

"It's okay I guess. I start school tomorrow and I'm ecstatic." I sighed sarcastically. I didn't use sarcasm a lot but when I did, you knew some shit was up.

"It could be fun. It's a tiny town," she said shrugging her shoulders. "Besides you might find some cute boys." she cooed looking back at the coffee. It was nearly done, thank the lord. The incessant bangs had come to a stop and I silently thanked God. I hated my sister being treated this way, and she just let it fucking happen. I promised myself I would stick up for her but I couldn't even do my own fucking laundry. What the fuck was I doing to do?

"Oh my gosh, mom. You're a real peice of work, you know that?" I said smiling at her. She grabbed two cups from the top shelf and pulled the creamer from the fridge she was leaning on not too long ago.

"Oh, thank you darling, I do try." She said dramatically. She was the best fucking mom anyone could ever ask for and I appreciated my life a little more now. If only she could help Claire. I don't blame her for it, but if she tried I would definitely help.

"So, what's on your mind?" She asked pouring the steaming hot coffee into two mugs, my mouth watered at the sight. "You seem a bit stressed lately." She added, concern lacing her voice. I was distressed. I was being watched. I wasn't sure of who did the watching but I was always sure that someone was. I heard talking in my sleep, and I always felt eyes burning in the back of my head as I walked around the block. I stopped doing that because of that reason.

"Mom, I think I'm being watched." I said finally. The mental debate in my mind was over and it was best to just tell her.

"How would anyone know you? You haven't even started school and we've only lived here for a month or two?" She asked still working on getting our coffee.

"That's the thing I don't know if I am or not! I can just feel it you know? Like how you know it's going to rain before it even does, or how you know when I'm sad and I don't even show it. It's like that, I just know I'm being watched. It all started when we moved into this gosh darn town." I finished speaking as she beckoned me over into the living room, coffe cups still in hand.

"Hm.... Maybe it's paranoia. I suffered a lot of that when I moved from town to town back when my dad was in the military. It always felt like no matter where I went, someone was always watching me. It felt weird all the time and I never went outside.... Maybe there's a ghost in the family." She suggested playfully. She laughed and handed me my mug. I took a sip of the coffee and let the hot liquid run down my throat. My mom always made a mean cup of coffee, and that was just one of the reasons I loved her.

"I don't know but it happened when Travis started dating Claire, and for the longest time I thought that it was him watching me. But even after they went on a date or something, the feeling of being watched was still there. I don't know what it is, it might just me being paranoid. I just don't know, and I want it to stop." I said running my hands through my tangled brown hair. It sucked having curly hair can I just tell you, but anyway, back to topic.

"That's super weird... Mine showed up...." She stopped her sentence running a hand through her straight black hair.

"What?" I asked concerned. I hated when people stopped right in the middle of a damn sentence. I knew my mom would continue because she wasn't rude like that, but it still annoyed the shit out of me.

"I felt like I was being watched around the time that my sister was facing abuse. Maybe we're just afraid and we feel safe with a pair of eyes on us at all times. I don't know about you but I always felt safe with the eyes on me. It was creepy for the first few months but I got used to the feeling and began to appreciate it. I actually felt sad when it left. And that was after I met your father." She said finishing with the mug up to her lips making her last words echo into it.

"I don't know. Maybe we're just mental." I said chuckling. "Oh well. All I know is I'm not ready to go to school." I said taking a sip of my coffee.

"Are you gonna do your weird makeup thing?" She said motioning to her eyes. She drew invisible circles around them while smirking. She was referring to the thick black makeup I would put around my eyes. I thought it always looked cute on Claire and once I tried it I feel in love immediately. Gash by Urban Decay was my choice of eyeshadow for the job because hell yeah, it was black and hell yeah, it stayed the fuck on until I wanted it to come off.

"Yes mom, and it's not weird. It's a style." I said pointing out the clear difference, but now that I think about it there really wasn't a difference. It was a style but it was also weird.

"There is no difference between that." She pointed out, reading my mind. Damn it.

"It's not weird, it's unique." I corrected finally finding the right words to sort out my little obsession.

"Yeah, yeah whatever." She waved off my explanation before setting her mug in her lap just staring. We talked for hours until the sun finally popped over the trees. Travis wobbled out the door, getting into his car before driving away.

"I hope the douche gets into an accident." I said under my breath. My mom smiled and shook her head.

"Yeah, me too." She said setting her mug on the glass coffee table. I looked at her in shock, she never threatened death to anybody. She always thought that everyone deserved to live their life no matter what they did. But I knew she meant this. "Thanks for sharing coffee with me darling." She added before going down into the basement, where Claire's room was. Mother always did this after Travis left, she would go down and comfort Claire, only coming back up for coffee and an ice pack. Sometimes she would have tears in her eyes, other times tears would already would be on her cheeks. It sucked but I knew I shouldn't get involved, Clarie hated me seeing her like that. I obeyed her wishes and stayed away until a couple of days.

I poured myself some more coffee before making my way up to my room. I wanted to draw, I desperately needed my destresser. I didn't know what I wanted to draw but I knew, as soon as my pencil hit the page, I would know. Sometimes my hands seemed to move by itself, relieving myself of my thoughts as I poured them onto the paper. I clicked my light on because I never used natural light to draw, even though I should, I never did. The black sheet stayed on my window all the time, never letting the natural glow of the sun filter into my room. The light lit up the collage of posters and drawing I hung up on the walls and ceiling. I liked to look at them and analyze what each of them meant and I would come up with a different meaning every night. I always depended on what I was thinking of or feeling, and it just ended up being depressing shit.

It was my last day of freedom and I intended to spend it in my room all day before I had to go out into civilization. I was going to get bullied, I knew that. It was inevitable, there really was nothing wrong with me, people just liked to have power over people which I didn't understand in the slightest. But, who knows, if I did maybe I would want to do it too. And suddenly I was glad I didn't know. The off-white sketchpad sat in front of my crossed legs and I began to draw. I didn't know what yet so I just let my hand do whatever the fuck it wanted. Drawing was surprisingly easier without thinking, and just letting your hand fly across the paper making a masterpiece. I never threw away any of my drawings no matter how embarrassing.

At the beginning of the drawing, I could barely make out the surroundings. I could tell it was my room and I could see someone standing over my bed and a person laying on my bed. I started working on the scenery drawing the outlines of the posters what littered the walls from my room, I smiled in content looking up at my room realizing I had the positions all right. I knew who the person standing would be. I already knew what my brain was thinking in the depths of it's evil, tainted thoughts. It was my dream boy, and before you ask; yes, he was watching me sleep and no, he wasn't meant to be stalking he was meant to be protecting, protecting me from the evil that lurked in the basement hurting my sister. He wanted to help but I was his until I didn't need him anymore and as I made the story in my head it reminded me of my mother. Her "protector" had left after my father came into the picture. Their work was done because he passed it onto my father. Hm. Weird.

Maybe this was all just a weird coincidence. His black shaggy hair covered the back of his neck as he looked down at me, making sure I was safe and sound as I slept. HIs black shirt and jeans stuck to him because of the tightness. A flannel was tied loosely around his thin waist and I smiled at the detail. I loved making my characters with their own little feel, and his was dark and depressing. He looked like he was going to rob me instead of protect me but that was the beauty in it. In the picture I was facing the wall one foot hanging off the end of the bed, the other tucked up to my chest. I knew that's how I slept because that's how I usually went to bed and because that's how I woke up.

If anyone looked at my work I'm pretty sure they'd be disgusted, because I drew some pretty "interesting" things. I couldn't help it, I had an active imagination. I began to yawn as I finished half of the picture. I wasn't finished but he was and that made me happy. I tucked my sketchbook into my nightstand where I knew nobody would touch it because they know better. You don't go through an artists things, it's just the way it is. I had a messy organisation and it worked because I knew where everything was, even if other people didn't. I remember one time I had gone to school and came back to draw but my mother had cleaned out my drawer. I remember being so fucking pissed that I threw shit across my room, of course I messed it up again and when she offered I refused and told her never to touch it again. It was a private thing she looked into, even though the drawings I had back then weren't as graphic as they are now, I still felt violated.

School tomorrow was going to be fantastic. I'm a junior and isn't it just fun coming into the game late. I just hope I find some people that understand me rather that ridicule me. But that's hard to come but these days, unless you have someone up in your head that you can look forward to. Thanks random dream boy. I should really give him a name because "Random Dream Boy" doesn't look good on a driver's license. Haha just kidding it didn't look good anywhere and it was getting tiring to say. Maybe John, or Jake. Ew! Those didn't fit him at all. Oh well, I can figure something out soon. I let my eyelids begin to get heavy and I let them fall, inviting sleep into my system. After all I did wake up at three in the morning. And it was all Travis' fault. Stupid bastard even though it was only four in the afternoon i gave up my struggle and started to fall asleep.

I fell asleep dreaming of him and that made the aspect of dreaming a whole lot better.

Notes