Untitled
an excerpt

Chapter One
Dan Murray pushed hard onto the swinging door, nearly breaking it off its hinges. Not that it would have been hard to do, the rusty door looked ready to fall off at any moment. He walked as fast as he could to the side of the house, to his spot. Cigarettes littered the ground, half covered in dirt. He fumbled for a new one in his pocket and lit it, taking a long inhalation. The first smoke relaxed him and he slid his back down the brick wall and sat down in the dirt.
Through the open window above him he could still hear Paige screaming. Something about leaving the can of peanuts open? He tried to ignore her and instead stared very intently at his Converse tennis shoes, trying not to think. The only problem was Dan could never stop thinking, so instead he spent his time thinking about not thinking. And about how amazing that cigarette was at that moment.
He heard the rusty door slam open with a sickening screech and knew that Paige was coming. He tried to cover his eyes with his long black hair, as if he could somehow become invisible. “Shit,” he mumbled, realizing his stupidity. He stood up and brushed the dirt off his jeans as she rounded the corner.
She stood in front of him with a tin of peanuts in one hand and the lid in the other. Her bleach blond hair stuck out at odd angles, making her long dark brown roots somehow more noticeable. Her inch-thick black eyeliner was smudged, and she seemed to be knee-deep in defeat. She didn’t think so. “Is it really that hard to put the lid on the fucking peanuts? You take the fucking top, you put it on the fucking tin, and you push.” Paige was demonstrating each motion, acting like a kindergarten teacher from hell.
Dan looked up from the ground that we had been staring at, squinted from the sun, and tilted his head to look at Paige’s face. He had seen that look so many times, venom seemed to be pouring out from her eyes. He didn’t mind when she was angry; she was always angry so he was used to it. He also knew that saying something back would do absolutely nothing, so instead he just walked back towards the door.
“Daniel where are you going! Get your ass back over here!” Paige looked like she might explode from anger but suddenly her attitude changed. “Wait Dan, wait! I’m sorry!” She started sobbing.
Dan looked behind him at his girlfriend, who was offering up fake tears in fear that he was leaving her. He wasn’t, he had nowhere to go. He walked up to her and kissed her forcefully on the lips like he was obliged to do. “It’s fine, Paige. I’m going to bed.”
He turned back to the house once again and walked to the bedroom with his hands in tight fists at his sides. He heard Paige’s yells that it was only five o’clock grow quieter and quieter. He jumped in bed without changing and stared at the popcorn ceiling. Why was he there? He hated his life. He worked long hours in an urban high school teaching indifferent teenagers English. He then walked the three miles to his tiny, rundown house were his girlfriend yells at him until he finally goes to sleep. How old was he? He felt at least forty. But no, he was only 25. He felt like he was stuck in a rut. He couldn’t just leave, he had nowhere to go.
Soon darkness came and he heard Paige get into bed next to him. He feigned sleep, trying to avoid talking to her at all costs. She, however, hoped to wake him up and never attempted to be quiet as she got ready for bed. Dan thought about all the days they had gone without really having a conversation. They used to be perfect for each other, they had everything in common. What happened? Of course, that was ten years ago, when they were only in high school. Neither him nor Paige had ever dated anyone else. Maybe they just never realized how wrong they were for each other until it was too late? Dan kept having to remind himself that it wasn’t too late, he could get out of this now if he wanted. He was only 25, not married, he could still find somebody else. He pondered this thought every night, but he knew he would never go through with it. He hated his life, but he was used to it. He figured the chances of it improving was slim-to-none.