Our Barbie Dream House

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Chapter Eight

M A B E L

It was strange– walking into my fairly attractive neighbor’s house. It was strange– watching as he had collapsed onto his barely standing couch as if all the weight on his shoulders just kept pressing and pressing and pressing. But what wasn’t so strange was sitting beside him as he rolled his blunt, it wasn’t strange because it felt like it was the most normal thing to do. He looked in his element when he took the first puff.

I had never gotten high before, never even thought about doing it, but then I watched as the whites of his green eyes slowly became red, and all I could think was: I want to feel happy too. So when he offered me that blunt, that rolled up sheet that contained happiness inside, I didn’t think twice about accepting his offer. I had taken the drug from his fingertips, and placed it between my lips– inhaled.

I coughed like an eighty year old smoker.

He had laughed, an actual, real laugh that was honestly so perfect. It wasn’t too deep, and it wasn’t too high like him either. It was perfect for him in every way– it was his laugh. He took the blunt from me before he breathed in more smoke, and if I could have taken a single picture of that moment I would have called it ‘Seeking Happiness’.

Now I don’t even know how long I’ve been lying here on his shitty couch, shoulder to shoulder with the green eyed man who feels too much. All I know is that I feel content, warm on the inside from all the vodka I had consumed, but content. We haven’t said a single word to each other for the long period of time that I have been in his house, accompanying him on his barely standing couch. I like the silence that surrounds us in all honesty, it’s comforting, along with the nearly choking smell of marijuana. My head is spinning, but it’s not a nauseating feeling, in a weird way it’s inviting.

Why am I even here again?

“Orange is the only color you can taste.” The words fly past my lips.

Green Eyes chuckles from beside me, blowing out smoke from his cigarette. Nicotine fills my nostrils, causing them to flare, but instead of coughing like a madman, I welcome the burning feeling.

“Okay?” He laughs again, flicking the ashes from his cancer stick onto the hardwood of his living room floor.

His couch cushions smell of cigarettes, and stale alcohol.

“This is all your fault,” I giggle randomly. “The ceiling is moving because of you now, you gave me weed.”

With a steady hand, he lifts up the half filled bottle of vodka from the floor, offering me some. Greedily, I take the glass bottle from him, studying it as if it holds my future inside, then again it probably does. He watches me silently with his red eyes, using his pink tongue to toy with the lip piercing in his lower lip.

He has nice lips.

“Is this bottle half empty?” I smile drunkenly. “Or half full?”

The man rolls his eyes before resting his back against the armrest of the falling apart sofa. He snatches the bottle of liquor before I even have the chance to take a single sip, and he throws his head back, chugging away. The muscles in his throat move, and work as he swallows down mouthfuls of the clear alcohol, and slowly he begins to lose himself between each chug. But that’s what we both want, right? To completely lose ourselves in each drag of marijuana, in each sip of terrible tasting liquor. Him more so than me.

“What’s your name?” I question out of the blue.

I’ve already asked him that same exact question three different times already, and each time he would respond with an ‘I’m not stoned enough for this shit’ before he would take yet another drag from his blunt. Yet now, here we both are, completely stoned out of our fucking minds, and the amount of alcohol we both have drank has us lying on the couch nearly passed out.

He toys with the metal piercing in his nose, wetting his nice lips with his even nicer tongue. Though the things he could do with that tongue of his probably aren’t so nice.

“Hayes.” The green eyed man mutters, but the way he says it makes me stare at him for just a bit longer.

He said his name like it meant nothing, like it’s just some thing he’s called by, like a pet. Maybe it’s the fact that he wants to be dead, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s baked like a cake.

Who fucking knows.

“I’m ready to talk now.” He wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his threadbare sweatshirt.

I smile at him, but it’s a sad, drunken kind of smile. He settles back down beside me, staring up at the ceiling with his long, scar littered fingers thrumming offbeat against the couch cushions. I wait patiently, and quietly for him to begin– to tell me whatever the hell he is feeling, or thinking at the moment. None of this seems the slightest bit weird to me even though we’re complete strangers, but I doubt we’ll even remember we had this conversation when we wake up in the morning.

“My family lives in the town over,” he speaks, and somehow he’s barely even affected by the amount of alcohol I just watched him chug down. “I moved to Seeder Grove to get away from that town, from that tiny ass house, from my father.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh, tugging at the disheveled black strands of his hair painfully.

“My father never beat me, never laid a single finger on me, but he yelled all the fucking time. He’d tell me ‘how much I ruined the family, that I corrupted my brothers because I’m a nut-job and a lost cause’. But he’s this drunk, and stupid prick that ruined my family. He beat the living shit out of my mother, and he still does, I know it. She won’t leave him, she says he’s the love of her life, that he’s her everything. I was planning on staying there, and share a bedroom with one of my brothers no matter how much it sucked. I was going to stay there until one day I would grow the balls to kill that son of a bitch for hurting her, for scarring my brothers. But then I got a scholarship from the University of West Virginia, and I had the papers hidden in a shoe box beneath my bed. My brother, Chance, found it like the privacy invading little shit that he is, and he told me to go, that I wouldn’t get an opportunity like this again– that he would watch over our brothers, and mom.”

“So you left?” I roll onto my side for a better look at Hayes, at his red rimmed green eyes.

The green eyed man huffs out a frustrated sigh.

“Not exactly.” He replies, his voice like boots on gravel. “I told him I was going to leave them, that family came first for me, and that was the truth. So I continued to stay there, a twenty-two year old grown ass man sharing a bed with a shit smelling, messy senior in high school. It sucked, it really did, but I knew it was only going to be temporary since I would soon beat the living hell out of my father for what he had done. But one day I set him off at dinner, and he kicked me out of the house. I had nowhere to go, no one to stay with, so I took that scholarship, rubbed it in my father’s face, and left. So here I am now, stoned out of my fucking mind with a stranger on my shitty ass couch that I honestly don’t even know where it came from.”

The last bit makes me gag, shoot up off the couch like it’s been infested with bugs. Then again it just might be since he has no idea where the hell it has been. Hayes laughs softly, shaking his head as he scrubs a pale hand through his black hair. For a guy who had just told me his shitty childhood he seems pretty happy. Maybe it’s the drugs.

“So that’s why you,” I pause, breathe in a breath of the choking nicotine around me. “That’s why you wanted to jump today?”

He shakes his head, dilated eyes watching me from the sofa.

“Then why?”

Sitting up with a soft groan, he takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing out the white smoke at me. He looks more attractive in this position, relaxed, and quiet.

“First,” he speaks softly, hand curling around the back of his neck. “You don’t have to have a reason to want to die. It’s just this empty feeling-- this feeling of loneliness even when you’re in a room full of people. You get so fucking tired of feeling broken, and people can’t seem to get a grasp on the idea that they can’t help, but they all think they can. You just get these certain images that randomly pop into your head, and all you can think about doing is completing what that image shows.” There’s a breath of silence between the both of us, and I can’t seem to break away from his green gaze– can’t seem to stop staring at the way his tongue flicks against the metal in his lip. “Second, that is not the first, and only time I have tried to escape this shit hole called life.”

I gape at him, unable to wrack my brain for a single response. How does he always manage to do that? Says something completely dark, and mind blowing that leaves me completely speechless. No wonder why he is the way he is, no one knows how the hell to help him if he keeps saying shit like that.

“W-what do you mean?” I manage to find the shittiest sentence in my mind, and force it out of my chapped lips.

He smirks, a dark, broken kind of smirk that doesn’t reach his beautiful green eyes. I honestly don’t think it ever will, maybe with practice, but it won’t ever be the same thing as a real smile.

“I wear long sleeves for a reason, sweet little Pooh Bear.” Hayes rolls his green eyes like it’s not a big deal, but it’s everything he thinks it isn’t.

I’ve never been more speechless in my life.


My cell phone rings, and I manage to make it across the little distance from Hayes’ shitty couch to the small wooden table that it sits on, along with my bag. Hayes eventually passed out quite a while ago after eating almost everything edible in his kitchen, and downing another smaller bottle of liquor. I honestly pity the poor man, he had a pretty shitty childhood from the sounds of it, and now he spends his days barely making it through school, and coming home to waste away on his bug infested sofa with a bottle of vodka, and some marijuana.

I glance over in his direction, smiling sadly when he stirs in his slumber before I hit the answer button without actually fully looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?” I speak into the phone, casting another side glance over at Hayes.

The stupid bastard his hot as hell, even when he’s stoned.

“You destroyed my fucking room.” The angry voice seethes at me from the other end.

My heart stops. Suddenly, I feel very sobered up, my breathing quickening as tears sting in my eyes. I’m not ready to talk to him yet, hell, I’m not even ready to see him again. There’s a huge part of me that is still dealing with the painful heartbreak, but there’s another smaller part of me that is slowly forgetting about his worthless existence. I wish that stupid huge part of me would catch up with the smaller one.

“And you broke my fucking heart.” I find myself saying to him, swiping at the tears that had escaped angrily.

Hayden laughs bitterly on the other end, and I can almost see the color red bleeding into his tan face as he glares down at his phone. Hayden has always been a very ugly male when he’s angry, and it’s a side of him I never liked, not even when we were younger. I hear a car horn, then another.

“You know what, Mabel? You’re ridiculous! I apologized, I tried to explain to you, but you didn’t fucking listen to me. Instead, you’re running around Seeder Grove with your delinquent of a best friend, and vandalizing your boyfriend’s bedroom!” Hayden hisses, venom on his slippery, slimy tongue.

My grip on my phone tightens, my healing knuckles ripping open all over again. I nearly curse under my breath at the sudden pain in my hand, but I clamp down on my lower lip with my teeth, hoping it’ll also stop the tears from falling. My hopes get the better of me, just like they always do.

“You’re not my boyfriend.” I spit, not caring anymore if I wake Hayes from his beauty sleep. “So go fuck that blonde bilbo all you want, Hayden, because guess what. We’re. Fucking. Over.”

Another bitter laugh.

“I’m on my way over right now, so we can discuss this bullshit”

“The fuck you are! If you even step onto my lawn I swear to the mighty dark lord Satan, Hayden, that I will shove my fist so far down your throat you’ll be able to tell your little buddies you got to know what deep throating feels like, you got that?” I yell into the phone.

A muffled laugh comes from the couch behind me.

There’s another honking horn on the receiving end, and I begin to realize that Hayden is more than likely speeding down the road like a maniac to get to my house. The thought makes me even more angry, my blood boiling with pent up rage, and hatred for this stupid blonde Ken doll.

“See you in five, Mabel love.” Hayden speaks into the phone with fake sweetness before ending the call.

Without thinking, I throw my phone, watch as it slams into the nearest wall before hitting the hardwood floor. The damn screen is no doubt shattered now thanks to my angry tantrum, but just breaking one little object doesn’t make me feel any better. I want to break everything in sight, even Hayes who stares at me with intent green eyes.

He smirks.

“Your anger is honestly a turn on.” The man says.

I don’t even have the energy in me to gape at him in shock, I just begin to pace in the decently sized living room. Anger has been a close friend of mine lately, turning me into this raging storm that wants to do nothing but ruin everything, and everyone that sets me off. How can one stupid person effect me in such a way?

“I want to punch him,” I grit out, ignoring Hayes’ statement. “No, I want to do a hell of a lot more than punch him.”

“Kinky.”

I glare in Hayes’ direction, a devilish smile on his face. Someone seems to be in a good mood considering the fact they had just nearly jumped off a building, and turned around, and got higher than a kite.

“Hayes, come on! This is serious, okay?” I plead, the playful look slowly beginning to wash off his face once he sees the sadness, and the anger on mine.

He pushes himself up off the ratted couch, stalking towards me like a jungle cat hunting its prey, and the anger slowly begins to slip away whenever I see the predatory glint in his glazed green eyes. I stumble back against the window, the window that looks straight out at my house-- the window that I can see Hayden pull up in his car through. Hayes notices too, can see the way Hayden makes his way up to my front porch.

But then he stops abruptly, stops because he’s seen something that has caught his eye. He sees me, standing in the window with my attractive neighbor standing not even two inches away from me, sees as Hayes leans down close to my ear with a knowing smirk on his face. There’s complete, and utter hatred etched into Hayden’s features as he watches in silent horror when Hayes braces his himself against the windowsill. He doesn’t know that I can see him standing there, doesn’t know that Hayes knows he’s watching. I shiver at the feeling of Hayes’ warm breath fanning down my neck, the smell of vodka on his tongue.

“Take off your shirt.” Hayes whispers, a soft demand– a quiet order that will surely give the man outside a show.

I suck in a breath, but waste no time in doing as he says. Despite just meeting him a couple of short days ago, I already trust him,trust the man with dead green eyes. So I tug my own shirt over my head, revealing my pathetic Winnie the Pooh bra, which of course has him grinning like a madman.

Hayden goes rigid from where he stands outside in my front lawn.

Hayes chuckles lowly before casting a quick glance over my shoulder at our audience, then his head dip downs, sucking a pale patch of skin into his mouth. I know I shouldn’t enjoy any of this, the pleasure, the torturing Hayden, but I do, I so greedily do. But I’m okay with being greedy in this moment, I’m okay with the rough lips on my tender neck– okay with the fact that I tug the broad man even closer than I should. I shouldn’t be doing this, I know it, but he’s good at what he does, so you kind of can’t blame me.

“Moan.” He demands in my ear, a low growl that barely sounds human.

My body tenses at his demand, shake my head vigorously because there is no way in hell I’m going to allow such a sound to come out of my mouth. My ex-boyfriend stands right outside, watching with wide blue eyes at the scene that is unfolding against the window of my next door neighbor’s living room. Hayden, and I never did such things, he was never sexual with me, never demanding like Hayes is, even though it is just for show.

Sadly.

“Moan.” He repeats himself, and then tugs me sharply to him by my bare sides.

Again, I shake my head, refuse to let out such an embarrassing sound. I would never let that happen, not now, not when I barely know this attractive man. But then he grinds his hips against mine, and it happens.

I moan.

I moan loud enough for Hayden to hear through the barely cracked window, moan loud enough for the whole damned neighborhood to hear what is taking place in the green eyed man’s living room, moan loud enough for Hayes to give a satisfied ‘good’ against the column of my throat before leaving a rough bite there also. His pearly white teeth knick at my shoulder, not being anywhere near gentle in the slightest.

There’s nothing about Hayes that seems gentle, nothing about him that seems remotely soft. He’s rough, jagged edged with callused, scarred fingers that dig into my bare sides before running down to the backs of my legging covered thighs. He tugs me abruptly against him again, grinding himself with angst against the most sensitive part of my body. I bury my face into his sweatshirt, muffling my raspy moans in hopes it’ll hide the fact that I’m enjoying every maddening second of this. I know I shouldn’t, but that’s the thing that makes me enjoy it more.

“Now turn your head, and look right at him.” His words come out breathy, like he’s slowly losing himself in each moan that escapes my lips.

I do.

I turn my head to my right, stare at the man who continues to stand in my yard in paralyzed horror, look him in those crystal blue eyes of his, and moan. I moan.

“Hayes.” I gasp when he grinds his hardened crotch against me a bit too roughly, but it’s a kind of rough that I like.

“Walk out there,” he growls, giving me own last bite on my neck. “And rub it in his fucking face.”

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