Hate Me by Blue October
I have to block out thoughts of you
so I don't loose my head
they crawl in like a cockroach
leaving babies in my bed
dropping little reals of tape
to remind me I'm alone
playing movies in my head
that make a porno feel like home
there's a burning in my pride
a nervous bleating in my brain
an ounce of peace is all I want from you
will you never call again
And will you never say that you love me
just to put it in my face
and will you never try to reach me
it is I that wanted space
Hate me today, hate me tomorrow,
hate me so you can finally see what's good for you.
I'm sober now for three whole months,
that's the one accomplishment you helped me with
Four days, four days till I can leave this God forsaken place. I can say goodbye to the wire webbing that runs through the windows in every room, goodbye to the heavy doors locked from the outside every evening at exactly 8:00, goodbye to the small outdated turn dial television in the 'rec room', goodbye to the newcomers shaking and screaming with the pains of withdrawal. No more nurses doing their middle of the night suicide checks, no more slop thrown on a styrofoam plate and called dinner, no more tapped phone calls, and no more weekly urine tests. Four more days to relative freedom.
The meeting with Banner this morning went more pleasantly than most. His pompous over filled face sat smiling across the badly scared metal desk obviously waiting for my joyous exultation over his news. I screwed my face into one of consternation and gave him a dead glare. It was his fat ass that got me put in this stupid rehab clinic to begin with. His phone call interrupting my "parent's" extended vacation in Europe was not well received. Hearing that their only son who they loved and adored, yah right, had been found in possession of highly illegal substances had also not been well received. He was lucky to keep his well paid position as my overseer, only his 'brilliant' idea to admit me to this ward of torture they call rehab had saved his job. Now he expects me to clap and pat him on the back for finding yet another program to pawn me off on so the parental units can feel good about themselves and what a wonderful life they are providing for their heir. He referred to it as an independent structured living facility, hmmm synonymous with half way house in my opinion. Yet another way to separate the juvenile delinquents from normal society. He tried to assure me this was not the case, but I fail to see his administrations as genuine. Either way, sharing a house with two other guys, a reasonable curfew, unlimited phone and internet privileges and real food sounds like a much better prison than the one I am in. Yet it is a prison none the less.
The large upside of this arrangement is the fact that I am still under the age of consent. Once I turn eighteen and can speak for myself the contract Banner signed with this Dr. and Mrs. Cullen will be null and void. I will be able to leave in just over two months. I will be able to choose my own path and tell Banner and my parents exactly where they can put their ingenuous concern.
I return to my room and take stock of what still needs to be done before I can leave this hell hole. Packing will take ten minutes tops, but I need to arrange for my belongings left behind at home to be sent to Washington. The only belongings I would miss are my car and music collection. Maybe I'll just drive to Washington, take a week and enjoy the scenery. After being cooped up in this suffocating building the call of the open road is strong; I can almost hear the quiet hum of my engine as I fly down the highway, answering to no one but myself for five days of ultimate freedom. Making up my mind I leave my dingy little closet of a room and head toward the pay phone in the rec room.
Lifting the grime covered receiver I cringe before placing it to my ear thinking of all the germs I am inhaling just using this thing. Quickly I type in my credit card number and dial the number for my parents summer Chateau.
I am just about to hang up when on the seventh ring my mother breathlessly answers. "Bonjour."
"Hey mom, it's me. I just met with Mr. Banner and he told me about that new place you guys set up for me in Washington. It sounds great." I say putting on my best 'Gee golly whiz I'm so excited' voice, hoping to butter her up so she'll be inclined to grant my request.
"Oh hello my dear, it's so nice to hear from you. It's been over a month since I last heard your beautiful voice." My mother replies with her typical melodramatic high society air. It's actually been three months, nice to know she's so very concerned with my progress and well being. "Your doctors tell me you are doing very well with your recovery."
"Yah, I'm good to go. You don't need to worry so much anymore." It's not like you ever really did anyway, as long as no one you knew found out about my little 'problems'. "So anyway mom, I was wondering if it would be alright if I just drove to Washington. It would be a lot cheaper than hiring a transport, and I would love the solitude. It's so loud here, some quiet time would be nice." Please, please let her say yes.
"I don't know, honey. The doctors said that the first month after leaving will be your hardest and that you need to be around people who love and care for you so you are not tempted to... well you know." She finishes lamely, still not able to say the words. "Of course we will have your car shipped to you. Is there anything else you want us to have sent to you?"
Crap. "Yah, could you have someone send out my music." Dropping the false cheeriness I allow my voice to turn caustic.
A small gasp sounds down the line. "Son you know we are only doing what we believe is best for you. We have never wanted anything less." Yah, I know and unfortunately I have never met their standard of 'best'. Which is why as they cavort around France I sit here rotting in a stinking rehab facility preparing to move to a new city half way across the country by myself to go live with complete strangers. Who as my mother so brilliantly put it will 'love and care for me' since my parents can't be bothered.
"Yah, whatever mom, talk to you later." I set the receiver back in the cradle before she could spout anymore self righteous garbage.
Returning to my room I throw myself on my bed grabbing my ipod off the floor. Turning the volume as loud as it will go I listen to the screeching guitars and throbbing bass of Yes Please by Muse. My anger grows as I listen to the cacophony of noise coming through my headset. I let my thoughts drift my emotions flowing with the current of my darkest playlist.
An orderly comes by poking his head in my room to check on me before mumbling something. He gives me a disinterested look before shutting the door behind him. Locked in again. I stare at the ceiling for hours. The first lights of dawn streak through the small dirty window above the head of my bed as my eyes close. Blackness surrounds me as the final strains of an old Iron Maiden song fade out, leaving silence in their wake.
The sun's rays have passed by my window as I open my eyes taking in my room around me. A clenching in my stomach causes me to groan. Time to get something to eat. Pushing myself out of bed I head toward the mess hall. Lunch is just finishing up. Grabbing a tray I head to the service line getting the last of the now cold slop that might in a third world nation pass as spaghetti. Without speaking or looking at anyone I make my way over to a round table in the far corner of the room, isolating myself as much as possible from the few other patients lingering over half eaten plates. If I can go three more days without speaking to anyone I'll be very happy.
I force myself to eat half of what is on my plate, knowing my stomach will be complaining of hunger all to quickly, but I can not make myself swallow another bite of this sludge. Returning to my room I select another long playlist and zone out staring at the far wall, watching a fly land and take off only to land again less than an inch away on the windowsill. The fly tries desperately to get out, unaware that the window it bangs its body against will never open. I know exactly how the fly feels. Without thinking about it I reach out smacking the fly. I wipe the smashed remains along the wall, too unmotivated to get up and wash my hand.
"Get up Mason" A gruff voice commands as a strong hand smacks my still sneakered feet off my bed.
Opening my eyes I glare at the orderly from a couple nights ago. "I'm up, now go away!" I growl waiting for him to leave before I drag myself out of bed and dress for the day. The clock on my Ipod says its 5:45. Crap, I have to be downstairs packed and ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Grabbing the duffel from under my bed I quickly throw clothes out of the dresser into the bag not bothering to fold them. Grabbing a grey long sleeved T-shirt and black jeans I dress quickly throwing my dirty clothes in on top of the clean ones in my bag. Doing a quick double take of the room to make sure I don't leave anything behind, I turn and run out the door.
A taxi stands waiting for me as I very anticlimactically walk out the front doors of the clinic. "Where to man?" The rastafarian cab driver asks as the smell of ganja overwhelms me. An itch settles in the back of my throat.
"O'Hare." I answer quickly as I roll down the rear windows hoping to dispel some of the offending yet tempting odors.
"So, do you mind if I light up? the man asks as we pull onto the highway.
"What do you think! You just picked me up from a rehab center." I growl in answer wondering how many brain cells this guy has left.
"So you want one then, fifteen, it's clean cut stuff man." He offers holding up a sloppily wrapped thin joint over his shoulder.
"What the fuck! No!" I yell. His hand retreats hiding the proffered joint back in his jacket pocket.
"Your loss man." What planet was this idiot from.
"Just get me to the airport." I demand. There better not be any drug sniffing dogs in security today or I'm screwed. I'm sure by the time I get out of this damn cab I'm going to smell like a back yard gardener.
The miles pass unbelievably slow, I twist my earbuds in place turning up my tunes trying to drown out the island rap crap the Jimmy Hendrix wanna be is blaring. Finally after what seems like hours signs for O' Hare International begin dotting the side of the road.
The lines for security are already teeming with people. Children scream trying to pull away from their frustrated mothers, who in turn scream back at them. The dissonance of the crowd screeches in my brain like fingernails on a chalk board. I stand in line trying to tune out the surrounding din for over an hour moving inch by inch toward the metal detectors and x ray machines. I slip my shoes off and wrap the cord around my ipod preparing to go through the checkpoint. The heavy set balding man in front of me wearing a cheap brown polyester sport coat and twenty dollar replicas of old fashioned wing-tip shoes argues with the security officer about the need to pull his laptop out of his bag, finally giving in to the officer's demands. I slide through after him without interruption grabbing my shoes and ipod out of the plastic bin on the conveyor belt. I walk to my gate in my socks wanting nothing more than to get away from the press of humanity.
I choose an isolated row of seats far away from the boarding entrance. Sliding my shoes back on without untying them I replace my headphones and lean back into the seat trying to escape into my music.
"Edward Mason, please report to gate 5B for a security check, Edward Mason to gate 5B." rips through the airport. Crap, of course I would have to be chosen for a random carry-on baggage check.
I laugh bitterly as I step behind the partition separating the security area from the boarding entry. A petite woman with black hair and grey bored eyes sweeps a wand over me, front and back. "Shoes off please." She orders disinterestedly. I slide off my shoes turning them upside down to show there is nothing hidden in them. She nods signaling that it is okay for me to put them back on. "Baggage." She demands. I smirk handing over my Ipod. She looks briefly at what I hold in my hand before stamping my boarding card with a green check mark. "You're clear." She states in a monotone handing me my boarding pass back.
"Group A boarding at gate 5B, for Flight 1724 Chicago O'Hare to Phoenix International with continuation to SEA TAC" I join the line of human chattel slowly coagulating past the final airport attendant and into the plane. I find my seat quickly. Fastening my seat belt I close my eyes turning up my music and mercifully fall into a deep sleep.
My head is thrown forward slightly with our rough landing waking me up from my slumber. I look around the plane to see that I had no seat partner. Thankful that I do not have to move to allow anyone out of my row I flip through my music trying to find something quiet, soothing; my nerves are wound so tightly I am giving myself a stress headache. I click on my classical list and the calming notes of Chopin fill my mind. I lean back into my seat staring at the overhead no smoking light as I wait for the passengers to exit and the new herd of people to be shepherded to their seats. I smirk lightly wondering what my rush is, it's not like I'm headed off to some great destiny.
Someone taps me repetitively on the shoulder trying to get my attention. Slowly I pull my ear buds out turning my head to the side bored and slightly aggravated that someone is interrupting my manufactured solitude.
"Um, excuse me." A soft musical voice rings out from the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on. Instantly I am drawn to her piercing brown eyes. The depth of the dark pools draws me in making everything around me disappear. I pull my gaze away from hers and look at the masterpiece standing before me. She balances precariously on previously abused crutches, a dingy grey backpack slung over one shoulder. Her incongruous outfit speaks of her lack of social aspirations, hinting at an air of independence and security in who she is. Her rose petal lips rest parted slightly as she returns my stare.
I try pulling my thoughts back together preparing to offer to move over so she can take the aisle seat if she likes. She shifts her weight leaning heavily on a single crutch. Surprise and fear fill her eyes as the crutch looses its footing on the slick plastic light strip sending her flying toward the floor. Without thinking about my actions I reach out over the armrest separating her body from mine and wrap my arms around her waist as she descends. I pull her toward me hoping to halt her fall. The force of my pull on her body causes it to redirect its momentum. The slight weight of the beautiful young woman crashes into my chest. Her soft body presses into mine, her hair flies behind her settling across my face and chest seconds after her body has settled onto mine. I breathe deeply, thankful that she has not fallen to the floor, no sounds of injury come from her as she lays perfectly still in my embrace. A beautiful floral aroma fills my senses mixed with a subtle hint of strawberry, and a touch of lingering desert rain. Never before have I smelled any substance so inviting, so thrilling, so completely able to invade my mind.
She shifts slightly in my arms pressing against my arms in an attempt to free herself from my lap. Instinctively I wrap my arms around her waist more tightly.
"I'm so sorry." She whispers as her cheeks heat with a crimson blush making her heart shaped face radiate with warmth.
"No, don't be. It was entirely my pleasure." I reply kicking myself immediately for how creepy that sounds. Yah, don't worry, It was my pleasure to grope you as you innocently fell toward me. Anytime really.
A light smile blesses her lips lighting her face once again, this time in amusement. "Well it's nice to know there are still true gentlemen in this world." She teases. "Um, can I get up now please."
"So soon?" I tease in reply, "But I just got you where I want you."
"It's not very chivalrous to hold a lady captive against her wishes." She banters pulling back from me. Her eyes alight with excitement.
"I never claimed to be chivalrous, or a gentleman for that matter. Those were your words, not mine." I reply, reluctantly releasing my hold on her and helping to to stand again while I moved over to the window seat. "Why don't you take my seat, I have a feeling the less you move the safer you will be."
A middle aged flight attendant having witnessed our little moment walks toward us, an angry scowl painted on her face. She bends down to pick up the fallen crutches seeking out the young girl as she straightens up. "Are you okay dear? I can find you a new seat if you feel uncomfortable here." She offers sending me disapproving glances.
"Oh no, I think I'm perfectly happy where I am. Thank you though." The young woman answers.
"I'm Isabella, by the way. It's nice to meet you." She extends her hand in introduction as the stewardess walks away.
"Edward." I state taking her hand in mine and raising it to my lips, kissing her knuckles lightly as I drown in the endless depth of her eyes once more. She pulls her hand away giggling nervously.
"So Isabella, that's a rather old fashioned name don't you think." I ask lightly trying to cut through the unease surrounding us.
"Well, it is what it is. What would you have me go by?" She asks with a shrug of her delicate shoulders.
I think about her question for a moment looking at her perfect features carefully before answering. "Bella. Most definitely just Bella."
A charming smile lights her countenance as she stares at me her teeth biting her lower lip lightly. "Bella it is then. What about you, I don't think I've met any Edwards under sixty. Are you an Ed or Eddie?"
"Neither." I answer firmly my face showing my disapproval. "Just Edward, thanks.
"Alright, Edward." Her lips form my name like a verbal caress. "It's nice to meet you."
"Very nice indeed." I reply.
Oh yah, Non of these characters belong to me, they all came out of the amazing mind of Stephenie Meyer and therefore are her intellectual property. Hate me is property of Blue October. I use it to represent Edward's relationship with his absentee parents (okay, so it's a little bit of a stretch) work with me. ;)
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