What's Yours is Mine

At last, home. Clearly what had happened this afternoon was nothing but a relapse. I’m with Carmilla now, so I have to stop with my bullshit as well. I acted on impulse, which is my bad, but to think I would’ve had to resort to violence again just to get things done is not a good way to start anew.

“You can go and unpack. I’ll be in the shower.” After everything I’ve been through today, I deserve this.

“Got it.” She replied.

It didn’t take long for her to go into her room and start decorating. I entered the shower and began washing away my problems. I didn’t want to be the idiot in this household, even though I already am, for the sake of Mil. The sprinkle of water down my body helps cool me down and clean me up nicely after the blood, sweat, and dirt that went into securing a phone. No tears thankfully, I’m not one to cry.

The shower was enough for me to remember I’m done dealing with the things I’ve stopped trying to deal with in the first place. I can’t keep looking back into my past just to see where I went wrong — when in reality I messed up myself and put the blame on someone else. Death wasn’t the freedom the people I’ve hurt were looking for; I had to understand my perspective from 5 years ago though. I didn’t want to do it, my family didn’t force me to do it — it was solely for the purpose of paying back debt.

I scrubbed my body with soap, removing the blood stains on my skin. Removing the evidence I had injured another person, well 3, for my own safety. It could’ve been a simple 1-2, but no, I chose to pierce through their flesh. I wanted their blood off me — tarnishing their memory inside of me. Morals were broken today. The same morals I had spent several years building.

Whilst I washed my hair with shampoo, I was then struck with a question Elena gave me back when her face was fairly new to me: “Raven, to you, who are you?”

I am a man of many things, oftentimes better than a man with a single thing. However I don’t know who I am. People will call me my name, others will call me from stuff I did (or didn’t), et cetera.

I fetched my towel from the hanger and dried myself from being drenched in water. At least now I smell good. Back to the question though — should I know who I am? I feel like if I were to dare myself, I probably would, but during these times I’m not so sure. I can’t see myself in the ways people see me.

As I try to exit the bathroom, the door is only met with a thump on the floor. It’s Carmilla with her towel. I’m on the floor, lying on the slightly-wet tiles while being stared at a mildly-concussed Mil, only wearing her shorts and bra carrying a towel, presumably being next in line to shower. I mean, she has been out for a while before heading into the dorm.

“Watch where you’re going next time.”

“Gee, thanks Mil. As if you’re the one on the floor.”

“Stand then? I’m going to shower now too, so I suggest you move out of the way and clothe yourself.”

Mind you, the towel I wrapped myself in almost revealed my groin area. Plus the sight of a woman without her top on — I tried to console myself, I promise. I’m not as horny as a teenager, but sometimes it does get to me.
“How about you go out first then you go in? I’m still naked and you walk inside not giving a shit?”

“To be fair, it’s not like I haven’t seen it.”

“...what?” Shocker. No, really — what the hell?

Thankfully, she gave me a response that she hasn’t and was only joking, so she moved out the way to give space for me.

I step off the tiles, stepping now on the wooden floor. I hold my towel in place, making sure I don’t reveal anyone. Eh, it’s just Carmilla and I, but I don’t want to reveal my glorious private Johnny to Mil — that’d be disgusting. Or she’ll probably make fun of it. Who knows.

I reach the front door of my room and enter. It’s cold from the AC I left on, my clothes are everywhere, and the light from my open computer still plugged in is illuminating a quarter of the room. Seems like this month’s bill is going to be high already especially with Mil on board. I turned off both the AC and computer to preserve electricity; I’m already down to my last few hundred bucks and I have to manage that until the end of April.

The door snaps back into its closed form and I start changing my clothes — the clean ones, rather. I only had a gray cotton sweater paired with black sweatpants. I suppose it’s enough considering the fact that I’m home anyway.

I would be lying if I said there weren’t many used and unused clothes spread out across my room. More or less used, I’m a lazy dude. I was planning to clean it two days ago anyway, I just didn’t have time, that’s all.

I took the chance to clean my room by getting the laundry basket. There was one problem though — it’s in the bathroom. Mil’s in the bathroom. Showering. Let me tell you that the shower curtain isn’t as translucent as I thought it would be the first time I bought it.

I vividly remember having Jacque over one day and he told me he was going to take a “long bath.” Over time, that long bath took more than half an hour so I checked on him. When I entered the bathroom, all I saw was a shadow of him wanking it out. I slammed the door afterwards and never looked at him the same way ever again.

Anyway, I approached the bathroom door and knocked.

“Mil, can you hand me the laundry basket?”

“Why?” A soft reply.

“I have some clothes I forgot about and I want to wash them. Please?”

“Hmmm…”

“Dude, I barely have anything anymore in my closet! Please just hand me the laundry basket.”

“Give me at least 5 minutes and I’ll give it to you.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m almost done showering. It would be a waste of effort & time if I go out right now all wet for a laundry basket.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll have your word.”

It wasn’t long until she came out wrapped in her towel as well, along with the basket.

“Here’s your stupid basket.” This was the first time I saw her naturally, if you get what I’m going with. No makeup, no filters, nothing — just her. Her slightly-damp blonde hair, her glare eyeing me down even though I’m taller than her, and… FUCK. Get over it, Raven. I know you can. “Hey, I’m talking to you. Eyes up here, boy. Are you gonna take this or what?”

“Take… what?”

“The basket, dumbass.” She snapped her fingers to grab my attention, making sure I wasn’t staring at something else. “I chose your dorm for a reason. I don’t want you making me regret this decision. Take your basket.” Bossy. Like how she usually is. Not bad for a newcomer. I snatched it away from her hands and walked towards my room.

To be honest, after I saw her in that state, I locked in. Wandering clothes? In the basket. Trash? Threw everything in my compact garbage bin. Scattered notes? Rearranged and put it on my table beside my computer. Lotion and tissue…? Back on the shelf you go. I wonder how it got there. History book from eighth gr– HISTORY BOOK FROM EIGHTH GRADE? WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE DOING ON MY BED– Ohhhh, Joan of Arc.

WHAT THE HELL WAS I DOING TO JOAN OF ARC? Oh, never mind. I recall being asked by our professor to study about the things Joan of Arc did for our marketing presentation next week. How do you even compare the patron saint of France to marketing management? That seems out of the blue, especially for you Mr. Winsley.

Knock knock.

“Come in.” I said casually. The door creaked open to reveal Mil wearing a baggy shirt and her still-damp hair.

“Do you have any shorts I can own for a bit?” What a random question. “All I brought were my casual pants… the thought of bringing comfy pants and stuff completely poofed from my mind.”

“I think I have a few. Most of the shit I have is unwashed though, let me check.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be quick, my legs are freezing.”

“Are you not wearing anything underneath your shirt?” Dot, dot, dot. The silence breaks the mold in the room. I guess I have my answer. “You got to be kidding me.”

“JUST FIND A PAIR OF SOMETHING WARM!”

“I KNOW, I KNOW. Relax, I got you covered. Seriously covered. Couldn’t you have put on underwear?”

“Eh, too lazy.”

“Ew, horrible hygiene.” I looked through my closet and found a fairly-small pair of shorts of mine that I don’t wear anymore. “You can have that.”

“Gee, really?” I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll cherish this.”

“Shorts? I’d appreciate you wearing it.”

“Fair point.”

When I said that, I didn’t mean for her to WEAR IT WHILE I’M STILL IN FRONT OF HER. This woman bro. I’m glad I looked away as soon as she started sliding it up her legs.

“You could’ve gone back to your room, by the way.”

“It’d be a waste of time & effort.”

“You always say that!”

“Am I wrong though?” Welp.

“I suppose not.”

“Good boy. You know me so well.” What the fuck?

I do not want to experience this right now. I’ve had a long day, I want to go to bed, and most certainly I do not want to deal with anything she has up her sleeve.

“Dude, mind if you get out of my room?” A simple request, that’s all I’m asking for.

“Mmm… nah.” Bruh.

“I genuinely want to go to bed.”

“It’s 8.”

“I do not care.”

“On a scale of 1-10 how sleepy are y–”

“14.” Her eyes widened from hearing a number out of the scale.

“Sleepy, aren’t ya? You’re not the Raven I know.”

“Huh? How come?”

“The Raven I know…” as she slowly crept up towards me, “would melt from this.”

Mwah.