Creative Writing: The Refugee Room

We pull up to the two story run down house, and I feel home. The unwatered brown grass, and scratched up door brings a smile to my red, tear filled face. I go up to the guest room, where I have my secret stash of clothes for whenever I escape my house, to come here. I see the brown bed, with a mint green quilt, with the unmatched white side table where a coster lies, along with a lamp. The dark maroon wall reflects my emotions perfectly. I’m angry, and lost. Just like how the Maroon wall doesn’t match the other colors in the room. It’s lost. Mikki follows me in, with a small cup of orange juice, my favorite. He puts it on the multicolored coaster with a half smile.

“Thanks” I say looking into his circular, blue eyes.

“Need anything else?”

Looking at the clock I see 6:52 PM. Wow, has it been that long of a day. I think to myself. I miss Jarse so much!

I walk to the bathroom, where I undress, and turn on the shower. The flowered wall paper brings a spring feel to the air, though it’s winter. The old bathroom appliances remind me of the old 80’s movies.

I step into the warm water as it encases my body with rushes of of comfortably temperature water. Bringing heat to my insides. I think of Jarse. I just scream, and cry at the top of my lungs.

“WHY?” I yell “WHY? WHY THIS? WHY HIM? WHY ME? WHY NOT ME? AAAAH!”

I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Honey, are you okay?” She sounds concerned

“Ya, I’m fine sorry about being so loud” I continue to cry

“Cry, and yell if you need

I leave the bathroom, and go into Mikki’s room. I see his posters of Elton John, and The Beatles. His keyboard sits against the white wall, untouched. He used to always play, and sing for me, Jarse, my parents, and his parents. He would always sing, Your Song, by Elton John. That was his specialty, and my favorite. Once his dad left him and his mom when he was 14, he just stopped playing music, and quit his piano lessons. I try to encourage him, but he can really hold a grudge. Except last year, I got a really bad fever, almost 110, so my mom took me to the emergency hospital. I was sleeping, and was awakened by the beautiful sounds of Mikki singing Let it be by The Beatles. I start to sing along with him as I open my eyes, but then he just stops. His face turns red, and he walks out of the balloon, stuffed animal filled