18.0: [Rec.]
For some weird reason, I'm lying under a bed.
Tobias and Benji. Benji and Tobias.
I roll from beneath the bed with a grunt and feel a sudden vision rise (or what you'd call as standing up). I'm in Joshua's room. Alone. And the fear of it being the last day of the month and I'm without Tobias and Benji blossoms in my chest like a bloody daisy.
Joshua's room is messy. His bed is naked, with its sheets and pillows all over the floor. His jacket and sweater are discarded by his mirrored-closet, and his pair of worn-out, black converse are on the floor, next to his desk.
His desk's lamp is on, illuminating the mess of papers, pencils and cigarette ash he's left behind. The dust bin in the room's corner is filled with crumpled paper and I'm suddenly worried about Joshua's mental health. Life hasn't loved him for so long. His mother's and sister's death, his father's abuse, my suicide and Sierra's madness.