Be Somewhere

Sobs echoed around the room as no one dared speak. Bruises ran in lines down Ricky's arms; some forming handprints, others forming indistinguishable blobs. The eyeliner he had been wearing the day before smeared down his face, but he didn't bother to wipe it away. It would just be replaced by more murky streaks within the second.

“That bastard,” Morgan muttered as he shook his head.

“Why do you care anyway? As I recall, you said you were never friends with us,” Danny replied as he glowered at Morgan. A bitter sense of hostility settled between the two and no one dared breathe. The only one who made a noise was Ricky; but he wasn't taking breaths between his howls anyway.

“You guys,” Brad stated, “this hardly seems like the time.” Lily and Naomi agreed with a vehement nod of their heads. The pair moved closer to where Ricky was standing cautiously. When he didn't stop studying the creases in his wooden floor, they worked up the courage to hug him.

“I hate to be a bother, but me and Lily, at the very least, have no idea what's going on here!” Tucker exclaimed with evident exasperation in his voice. When no one offered an explanation he sighed. “That was a hint to clue us in.”

Danny focused his heated glare on Tucker before letting out an outraged puff of air. He breathed out deeply for a few moments; trying to control himself, but finding that his anger management techniques were failing. The room started to spin for him when he clenched and unclenched his fists; all except his would-be target, Tucker. Danny lost his senses and launched himself at the startled boy.

“You have no fucking right to demand explanations!” Danny shouted, “No fucking right!” While the others in the room tried to pry Danny's clammy grip from the front of Tucker's shirt, Ricky slid into the bathroom and locked the door. He could still hear Danny slamming Tucker against the floor and screaming.

Ricky looked at his rumpled clothes and couldn't help but notice the dried blood on the palms of his hands. He tried to figure out when he had been bleeding, but couldn't. As he wiped away the make up that dripped down his face he had an overwhelming urge to bleed more. The razor blades that were always hidden in his cabinet called to him.

Quiet knocks found their way to his ears and he turned his head for a second. He still didn't bother to answer when their murmurs of concern grew to shouts. His tears had long since abated so he had less difficulty with removing the make up. Ricky applied a fresh cocktail of foundation and powder to cover the bruises; and a fresh batch of eyeliner to draw attention to his eyes rather than the marks that the mixture on his face failed to cover.

He poured rubbing alcohol on the cuts on his hands and welcomed the burn. Pulling the cupboard above his sink open, he hoped it wouldn't creak. The blades still glistened on his middle shelf; just where he had left them last time. Ricky bit his lip and pulled them out. After holding them to his skin for a moment; he decided against it and placed them on the counter top.

Temptation whirled in his head the second he thought about running them over his skin. He wanted to; he needed to, but couldn't... not yet. Clothes that lay scattered on the floor flew in his attempt to find a sweater. He would need something to cover the marks if he wanted to keep the secret that he had succumbed to his vice. He didn't find quite what her as looking for, but it would have to do.

When Ricky looked in the mirror, he saw dirt clinging to himself. He took off the plain black T shirt he was wearing and poured more rubbing alcohol on himself. He stripped down and dumped the whole bottle over his torso; trying to cover every part of himself with the sterilizing liquid.

He found some epsom salts in the cupboards below the sink and rubbed himself with them until his skin was red and raw; just an inch from bleeding. He looked down at the mess he had made on the floor and found that he didn't care enough to wipe it up; for the filth still clung to him, outside and in.

Ricky sat down in the corner of the bathroom and pulled his knees into himself. Everyone was still pounding on the door and Ricky knew that they wouldn't take being ignored very much longer. Reaching up as far as he could, he searched the countertop for the razors. When his fingers felt a sting he knew that he has found them.

Ricky looked at the metal in his hand and grimaced. It had been two weeks since he had last cut; two weeks wasted if he dragged its sharp edge over his exposed flesh. The numerous slits from previous meetings of the blade had now cracked and dried; they looked disconcerting under the fluorescent glare of the bathroom light.

They needed companions.

He didn't dare cut on his arms so soon after an incident with his father; that would be the first place everyone checked. Instead; he cut behind his kneecap. The razor slid smoothly through his skin, leaving crimson stripes behind it. Ricky smiled when the incisions began to prickle. He pulled the edge across his flesh twice more before rubbing more of the epsom salts on himself. Hissing quietly at the burn; he waited for a few moments before standing up again.

“Ricky,” Tucker said through the door, “Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah, I'm just getting changed.”

He pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans and a long sleeved nightmare before christmas shirt quickly. Ricky stuffed his blades and salt back in the cabinet under the sink and looked at the mess on the floor once again. Stuffing everything into the hamper, he called out to the people in his room:

“I'll be out in a minute, no worries,” he said with a touch of fake laughter. He sighed and stretched his back before stepping outside the door where he was immediately attacked by Danny and Brad.

“Long sleeves, eh? You know the drill, roll 'em up,” Danny sighed as he pointed to Ricky's arm. Reluctantly, Ricky pulled the shirt up to reveal his healing scars. He scowled at the brown lines but then smiled at the memory of the fresh scarlet ones that were still safely hidden away.

“You still didn't cut? After that?” Brad said with tears of joy in his eyes, “I'm so proud of you Ricky.” They wrapped their arms around him and squeezed him tight. Seeing the looks in his friends eyes pained him; they trusted him enough to believe that he didn't. He bit his lip and smiled at the two.

If not knowing made them happy, then who was he to end their ecstasy?