Jason's Mask
One-shot
It was a hot musty night. The fan was on and the shades were down. Jason was alone in his room, with a cup of beer in his hand.
“What should I do . . . ?” he said to no one in particular, growing restless. He grabbed the phone and dialed his girlfriend’s number. “Hey, it’s me. Jason,” he said. His voice seemed slightly excited, and his breathing was quicker than usual. “Can we work it out?” She was silent for what seemed like hours.
“Oh, now you want to work out? After all these years, now you want to talk about it.” He knew this angry tone and attempted to calm her.
“But I love you. I love our daughter. Please, call off the court case. I’ll change! No more drinks. No more drugs. I miss you.” Silence came upon them once again. Suddenly, her voice came through the speaker. It was firm, but Jason knew she was crying.
“You’ve said that before. It will never happen! It’s bad enough you got me pregnant five years ago, but now you have to follow my daughter around? You don’t love us. Leave us alone!” Jason was becoming angry.
“Of course I love you! Why do you think I let you come over that night?” he yelled.
“ Are you kidding? Are you sick? You did that for yourself! That’s all you care about! You know why we’re in court. Why don’t you get a life?” She hung up. The last thing he heard was his daughter crying.
Jason began to shake. He ran to his desk and took some pills. His anger was becoming uncontrollable. He loved his daughter as much as he hated his girlfriend. But he hated himself more. No one ever listened. No one ever cared. He hated everyone! Jason let out a cry of pure anguish. The pills were distorting his vision. He felt dizzy.
“I want to die!” he screamed at his wall, the one with the pictures of his daughter on it. He started ripping the pictures down. Desperate, he grabbed a knife from under his pillow. He let the cool metal touch his sweaty hands. He slit each of his wrists, and blood came rushing out. “I deserve it,” he said to himself.
With hatred toward those who always ignored him, who never had the time to comfort him, he slammed the knife into the dart board and let the blood splatter onto him. The stinging in his wrists only made him think of the pain he felt inside. His breathing became shallow, his heart rate decreasing. He was losing reality. And suddenly, he realized he was crying. Heavy, wet tears, the tears he held in for so long, spilled out of his eyes and ran down his clammy face.
Jason crawled to his bed and curled up next to his pillow, alone and afraid. Feeling worthless, he wished someone understood. He closed his eyes and cried bitterly, until he eventually passed out. In the morning he would put everything back where it belongs, just like he always did.
Tomorrow the only evidence of this night would be the scars on Jason’s wrist and the bloody knife. He knew he didn’t have to hide them. Who would ever see them? Who would ever give it a second thought?
“What should I do . . . ?” he said to no one in particular, growing restless. He grabbed the phone and dialed his girlfriend’s number. “Hey, it’s me. Jason,” he said. His voice seemed slightly excited, and his breathing was quicker than usual. “Can we work it out?” She was silent for what seemed like hours.
“Oh, now you want to work out? After all these years, now you want to talk about it.” He knew this angry tone and attempted to calm her.
“But I love you. I love our daughter. Please, call off the court case. I’ll change! No more drinks. No more drugs. I miss you.” Silence came upon them once again. Suddenly, her voice came through the speaker. It was firm, but Jason knew she was crying.
“You’ve said that before. It will never happen! It’s bad enough you got me pregnant five years ago, but now you have to follow my daughter around? You don’t love us. Leave us alone!” Jason was becoming angry.
“Of course I love you! Why do you think I let you come over that night?” he yelled.
“ Are you kidding? Are you sick? You did that for yourself! That’s all you care about! You know why we’re in court. Why don’t you get a life?” She hung up. The last thing he heard was his daughter crying.
Jason began to shake. He ran to his desk and took some pills. His anger was becoming uncontrollable. He loved his daughter as much as he hated his girlfriend. But he hated himself more. No one ever listened. No one ever cared. He hated everyone! Jason let out a cry of pure anguish. The pills were distorting his vision. He felt dizzy.
“I want to die!” he screamed at his wall, the one with the pictures of his daughter on it. He started ripping the pictures down. Desperate, he grabbed a knife from under his pillow. He let the cool metal touch his sweaty hands. He slit each of his wrists, and blood came rushing out. “I deserve it,” he said to himself.
With hatred toward those who always ignored him, who never had the time to comfort him, he slammed the knife into the dart board and let the blood splatter onto him. The stinging in his wrists only made him think of the pain he felt inside. His breathing became shallow, his heart rate decreasing. He was losing reality. And suddenly, he realized he was crying. Heavy, wet tears, the tears he held in for so long, spilled out of his eyes and ran down his clammy face.
Jason crawled to his bed and curled up next to his pillow, alone and afraid. Feeling worthless, he wished someone understood. He closed his eyes and cried bitterly, until he eventually passed out. In the morning he would put everything back where it belongs, just like he always did.
Tomorrow the only evidence of this night would be the scars on Jason’s wrist and the bloody knife. He knew he didn’t have to hide them. Who would ever see them? Who would ever give it a second thought?