“You gave me bruises.” I shouldn’t say it but I do.
“Never in anger.” His eyes watch me, jaw set and rigid, but he backs up to the door reaching for his hoodie on the floor. But he doesn’t leave.
He can’t.
I see the muscles in his back flex, his fists clutched. He turns, his gaze on the ground. He groans and stalks over to me.
“I’m not going to let him hurt you.” He whispers covering my body with his. His clothes are discarded quickly.
“You don’t know how much trouble he is.” I tell him wrapping my arms around him. I feel what I crave give slightly like maybe this might give me the rush I need.
It could.
It might.
His mouth presses to mine, hard and relentless. “I don’t fucking care.” He pushes forward giving me what I know will be the salve on my wounds.
I gasp at the feeling of him entering me.
This.
This is what I need.
Cash turns his head, his mouth at my ear, his breath so hot it’s scorching my skin. “You want me to tell you a secret?”
No. Don’t say anything.
I nod.
I don’t want to know.
He groans slamming himself into me, his hand raises to press against my throat. “You’ve broken me.”
He’s right. I’ve broken everything.
He doesn’t leave right away this time. Instead he stares at the ceiling. Sometimes I think he wants to stay. Like maybe staying might make the pain go away.
Only it doesn’t. It doesn’t feel right, or good. It only makes it worse.
I know what this is doing to me. Not Cash, the drugs. It’s killing me and it’s killing him because of it. At first it was good. I could cope with anything. I didn’t have the nightmares and I could finally pass a class without even trying. You make something appealing enough and people forget that it can destroy your life. For a while I only saw the appeal. Then I started to realize what it was doing to me.
I noticed the weight loss.
The nose bleeds.
The sore throats.
All of it.
Cash stirs beside me, he doesn’t look at me but his knuckles brush over my cheek. He pauses, like he’s trying to get his thoughts together. He’s either going to ask me something, or give me words of advice he thinks I need.
Don’t ask me if I love you.
Don’t ask me that.
Please.
I love that feeling of his hands touching my face and the intimacy it gives. He leans in and it hurts to feel his heat. It burns my skin. “You choose happiness, Mad. No one can choose it for you.”
I watch him leave this time, my heart pounding furiously against my ribcage. Normally I can’t bear to see him leave but this time I torture myself with seeing him disappear.
I get in the shower after he leaves, letting the warm water wash over my skin. I feel my ribs and the bones in my hip protrude. It’s gross but food doesn’t hold any appeal to me. I’m lucky if I can get in one meal a day. As I stand there under the spray, my dark hair a heavy curtain over my left shoulder, I wonder what classes I have today.
Sometimes I feel like time passes me by so quickly I have no idea what day it is.
Where am I is another story but at least during the day, I have an idea.
I’m here in body, but mind, it constantly feels like it’s slipping more and more.
“What’s the name of this class again?” Landon asks nudging my shoulder. “I’ve been looking for my book for a like a week.”
I pointed to the board where the name was written in white on the black chalk board.
Landon laughs. “Oh… right.”
I laugh too when I look down because I’m no better. Landon looks at my text book for my photography class. “Clearly you didn’t remember either.”
“At least I brought a book. I can pretend I know what I’m doing.” I turn in my chair so he can’t see my book. “You’re gonna look like you forgot.”
He looks at me, studying my eyes and the way they look. He sees the dark circles and the weight loss. He sees the way I only ever wear hoodies or long sleeve shirts and jeans to hide how much my body isn’t my own any longer.
The problem is he’s scared of what it’s turning into.
“Are you okay?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.”
He shifts in his chair and leans toward me, our shoulders touching as he slouches. “What did you take?”
“I don’t remember.”
I don’t. He knows I’m not lying.
There are girls in front of us who are giggling and they have the laughter that makes me scream inside. High pitched and rich. Like they go to fucking school to sound like that.
“Who is that?” I ask Landon pointing to the one who keeps saying Cash, loud enough for me to hear. I know who it is but today, I’m not sure. She looks different from the last time I saw her. Darker hair maybe.