Suburban Confessional - Part 2

"Evie!"1

My eyes flicked open but my body didn't move. It was the only movement I could muster enough energy to do and even that was a strained achievement. As soon as my eyelids parted I could feel the ashamedly similar pain pulsing through my temples piercing its way through to the deep recesses of my brain like rose thorns being pushed into my tender tissues. I could feel my limbs beginning to seize up as if they were hinges that had been left out in the rain for a week. 2

Instantly I had regretted opening my eyes and found myself wishing I could have stayed in that half sleep, half comatose state I was in a few moments ago. All my senses pointed to one natural conclusion to the situation I was currently in. I simply closed my eyes again and let out a large whimpering groan.3

"Evelyn Rose, for fucks sake get your pitiful ass up!"4

My blissful self-willed oblivion was forcefully dragged from under me as a burning hot drip fell onto my chest. With this pain I sharply came to life, instantly followed with the pain still running through my head and my limbs. Leaning over the top of me, with a hot cup of tea in a chipped pink and green mug and a disapproving look was my house mate.5

"If I have a pitiful ass why don't you just take some pity on me Austin?" I groaned as I willed myself up from my overnight slump and grasped the cup from his warm, ink stained hands.6

Austin had been my flat mate and uncomfortably honest confidant for some time now. He and I first met during a "sharing week" for extroverted young adults whom both our parents thought would be beneficial and "fun". Sticking a group of dysfunctional sociopathic teenagers together in a camp for a week isn't the wisest idea. The only thing we shared was each other beds, homicidal ideas and ridiculously large amounts of illicit substances. I often wonder what happened to most of the people who were there, if they every made something of themselves. It's more likely however that they would be dead in a gutter by now, or atleast close to it. 7

I didn't much notice Austin then. It wasn't until years later that our paths crossed again; homeless, jobless and disillusioned. Somehow our shared situation in life had lead to us living with each other in this decaying old house. 8

Austin is one of those logical people, scarily so. His parent always told him he was a strange boy. What more can you possibly expect when your James Bond obsessed parents name you Austin Martin, which is particularly ironic considering its an Aston Martin.I guess he figured that if everyone expected him to be strange then wouldn't it be logical to live up to their expectations? And what better way to make himself strange in his parent's eyes than to give up an opportunity to study law in the states top university to sit at home and paint all day whilst smoking copious amounts of weed which he grows under the house.9


"I gave up showing you pity along time ago my little hung over friend;" he said throwing his gangly body next to mine on the couch, "you do enough self pity for the both of us. What self induced little crisis did we have this time?"10

I sniffed at that and slumped back down trying to rest the cup on my chest, not giving Austin the satisfaction of getting me roped into another one of his impossible to win arguments. They were impossible to win because he was always right, including this situation. My current sorrowful state was the result of another self induced, self perpetuated crisis although I wasn't going to truly admit that to myself let alone to my overly perceptive friend.11

"Now come on little miss," Austin said as he lifted my bare legs and placed them on his lap, forcing me to rise myself from my completely inelegant slump simply to stop my tea he had kindly scolded my forehead with from scolding the rest of my body. 12

"Don't get dismissive with me. You know very full well I know how to draw these things out of you."13

"I'm not being dismissive," I said twisting myself to put the mug down on the table next to the couch, "isn't a girl allowed her secrets?" 14

As I turned back I realized that he had moved himself so that his face was close to mine and his slightly rough finger tips were perched on the peak of my bear knees ready to strike.15


"Little Miss, you should know by now that there is no secrets permitted in this house of ours," he said lowering his finger tips and lightly, almost as though it was imagined, brushed the nape of my knee, "and you should also know that I know how to get any secrets out of you." 16

This was the start of game I knew all too well but one I could never resist on playing, especially when I know no matter what I will always win in the end.17

"Well Austin, if you think you know my all my little secrets and therefore know me without question," I said with a wry smile as I leant forward so my elbows rested against my thighs, "then you should be able to tell me what it is I'm hiding" 18

Austin went quiet, looked directly at me and studied me like I was one of his many almost finished paintings trying to decided what stroke is needed to complete it. As I could see him trying to finish the painting of my mind with his eyes as he was trying to map my body with his hands. As he stared I could feel his finger tips slowly moving along the curvature of my pale thighs, tugging gently as the lace on my ebony briefs as he reached my hips, only to run his fingers back down again to my knees. Austin was thinking and I was staying calm and still.19

Seeing my reaction, or lack there of, he finally smiled and spoke, "Now my Little Miss, knowing you as I do, I think you finished another shit day at work, miserable as usual? Am I beginning my story correct?"20

"Yes correct, but that's an easy guess," I said raising my eyebrows, but still not reacting to his ever risque caresses "you know I was at work and you know I hate my job."21

"Ahh but I was right none the less," Austin smiled and I could feel his finger tips run along the outside of my thighs towards my hips," I also think your legs were causing you pain again and you started off taking four, say five pain pills to make it go away? Correct again?" 22

I nodded in reply, trying not to breath deeply as his hand ran along my pelvis, his small finger sneaking under the top of my briefs as his palm pressed the line of my stomach. Despite my effort he could see that he was getting a reaction of sorts and continued "I then think you started feeling sorry for yourself and you decided that they need a little bit of a mixer to get them going so watered them down with the poisons of your choice, let me say vodka?" 23

I knew he was right, but I still lowered my eyes when he made this accurate observation as despite its truth it wasn't something I was particularly proud of. I'd been suffering from pain in my knees for years, something which despite my efforts I could simply not just get used to. My doctor had prescribed me painkillers to take the edge off but as time went on all they seem to do was to make my happily dizzy but not enough to dull the pain. The only thing that seemed to do that was large shot of vodka on a more than regular basis. Only downside was the next morning I would not only be suffering from my usual pains but I'd also be suffering a hangover the size of New Zealand and a very large bar tab to contend with on pay day.24

In the slight moment I had looked away Austin had moved himself so his face was in close to mine, his hands running along my arms. "Now there my little Miss, I think I may not be able to help you with the conundrum you found your self in last night," he purred, his breath warm against my cheek, "but I can offer you a temporary distraction which may satisfy you for the time being."25

His tongue whipped across my lips and my hands found his waist. I soon forgot about my pains, I was overcome for the next hour in a sensation much, much more distracting. Austin always knew how to make me feel better.