I'll Have You Know I'm Scared to Death

The slam the door had made when Alex left was deafening. It left my house with a sickening silence. It made my head spin and my stomach even more uneven then it was before.

"Don’t go." I whimper seconds too late but he was gone now. He couldn't hear me. Nor would he probably want to. I was disgusting.

I feel the tears bubble up and grow around my eyes before they spill over and stain my cheeks.

Why did he do that? Why didn't I do anything back? Was this an idea of some cruel joke? Was this all some scheme Taylor had come up with so, Alex didn't have to straight out say he didn't want to be my friend? What if he hates me now? What if he never talked to me again?

What would I do with out Alex? The only one who could understand me and never give up when I seemed so hopeless, so close to the edge.

I climb up my stairs and around the corner before getting to my room. I can see a few wet spots on my short from crying. I reach my room and twist the handle, rushing over to my desk draw. I rummage through the back of it until the fake bottom comes up. I pull up what I was getting. I rush over to the bathroom that was attached to my room. The walls, floor and cabinets were white. It was pretty clean and the moment.

I crouch in the crevasse between the toilet and shower and drop to my knees. The small object in my hands calling to me, offering me an escape, telling me it would take my mind off of what just happened. And I believed it to because it had taken this off my mind a few times before. Maybe it even clear my minds more then the drugs did, I wasn't sure though. They both came really close.

The razor sits delicately in my hand. It shines in the dull lighting. I expose my thighs, a canvas filled with cuts and scars. I feel the urge to just slice up my wrists and thighs. But I don't, I torture my life teasing my skin with the blade. I gently run the blade along my skin splitting it. The scarlet blood flows to the surface. Hissing in pain and utter delight I make more and more lines, all parallel to the other.

I reach the limit of lines I can make on my wrist and start on my thighs. I carefully carve words, not lines, on my thighs. I carefully etch out the words ‘Love sucks,’ in the most elegant hand writing I can muster with a razor and skin.

Tears fall down on my thighs mixing with the blood. I can feel my body relaxing. And here comes the high... Now.

I let out a sigh of content and my body becomes smooth against the tiled wall. As more blood runs out of my skin the more relaxed I feel, as well as light-headed. I take this as the time to clean up my cuts.

I grab a clean, white- which is a total plus to me- towel and dab the blood off my arms, followed by my thigh.

I gasp at my handy work on my thigh. The writing looks beautiful. I quickly shake my head, "you shouldn't think that. Your disgusting and weak." my voice is cold and bitter as I talk to myself.

I run my razor under the sink and clean the water blood mixture off, not the most hygienic thing, I know. I move to the medical cabinet pulling out the box of gauze I have and wrapping it tightly around the cuts.

I groan at the contact it makes with my skin. It's actually really pleasant.

... I guess you know another one of my problems now, let's just hope Alex doesn't. Well he probably doesn't even care about me. I'm just his closeted gay friend.

My stomach grumbles, but I ignore it and go back to bed. I wasn't physically tired, I was mentally drained. Alex just had to go and kiss me, so he could make us not friends anymore. He couldn't tell it to my face. He had to make me feel worse then shit, but should I have expected better? No.

"Zack, wake up dinner's ready" my mom shakes my shoulders, "get up Zack. Come on!"

I mumble some incoherencies and my mom just roles her eyes.

"Are you coming down to dinner?" she asks.

"Don’t wanna get up." I mumble into my pillow.

"Zack just get up. I can hear your stomach growling get up."

"Can I just go back to sleep?" I ask, rolling over to see her.

She shakes her head, tearing away my blanket and grabbing my pillow. She throws both to the other side of my room.

“Get up and eat! You’re probably tired because you don’t eat enough.” She nags and pulls at the new blanket I pull onto my body.

“Not hungry,” I mutter turning away from her and putting my arms over my hoodie clad, arms over my head, then realizing how hot it is in here.

“Just get up and eat and I’ll leave you alone. I won’t make you anything later, even if you’re dying of starvation.”

I roll my eyes at her, knowing she’d make me food no matter what. She’d do it just to-

“Fine,” I sigh getting off my bed and stretching, almost falling on my face in the process.

“Besides, Zack, you need to put some meat on those bones.” My mom states, looking me up and down, making me instantly feel very self-conscious. I shake my head to myself, making sure she can’t see.

I blush and walking over to my bathroom, “I’ll be down in a second mom.” I say trying to get her to leave. She throws me a glance before walking out of my room. As soon as she’s out, I pull off my hoodie and grab the pile of bracelets I have, just for an occasion such as this. The bracelets hide my repulsive arms. I look in the mirror and grimace.

I look like shit, no wonder Alex didn’t want to be friends with me. My eyes had dark bags under them. My hair was dull and boring, lacking some much needed color in my dirty-blonde hair. My clothes fit my body awkwardly. My brown eyes were dead, they didn’t reflect light anymore. They just sat there, one tone of brown; much like a dead tree bark I remember how much Alex used to love my eyes. He told me they reminded him of this stone called Tiger’s Eye. That’s back before I started all of this, when things where good. It was the time before he hated me, even before I fell in love with him.

I brush the hair out of my eyes and shake my head, walking away from the mirror, frown clearly on my face.

I walk down the stairs to the kitchen table, instantly the smell of food hits my nose. I sit down in my seat and stare down at the plate of food in front of me. Picking up my fork and knife, I push around the mashed potatoes on my plate. I take a bite, looking back down at my plate; I realize how much food is actually on my plate compared to everyone else. I then ALSO notice how everybody’s eyes are glued to me.

“Is something the matter?” I ask, very concerned. Where they on to me? On to what, I’m not sure. It could be anything. I’m hoping it’s just my weight though. You see, recently I haven’t been eating as much as I used to. I cut down on a lot of snacking I used to, stopped going onto second helpings. I had better things to do then eat lately. Plus I also thought better on an empty stomach. I guess I lost weight; maybe that’s why my clothes hung on my body so strangely.

I make a quick note to continue eating as this conversation goes on, but no one seems to speak. I shove another couple of bites in my mouth. Fear becoming evident on my face, “Seriously, what the hell is everyone staring at?” I snap.

My parents throw each other a glance, as if they’re checking something off a list. I sigh in defeat; they weren’t going to mention anything. I pick up a fork full of corn and slowly make a dent through that, leaving the meat on my plate. “You guys forgot I was a vegetarian?” I mumble, looking at the red flesh on my plate, distastefully.

My mom’s eyes grow, “Zack! I am so sorry! How could I forget that? Would you like something different to eat?”

I shake my head, “No, but I would love to know why you’re all staring at me, then I’d be just peachy.” My voice drips with sarcasm.

My dad just shakes his head, “Tell him, Elizabeth, you suspected it first.”

My mom sends him a glare, while my older brother Peter looks just as confused as I do. Peter’s blue eyes stare over at me; he cocks his head to the side.

“Zack, I’ve noticed that… well, your clothes seem bigger on you, you’ve been really moody lately and you aren’t eating as much as you used to. And I’m really worried about you.”

I sigh in relief; it wasn’t the cutting or the drugs. “It’s nothing, Mom.”

“No it’s not! This is serious Zack! You have a disease!” She shouts, standing up and slamming her fists on the table.

“Mom, seriously there’s nothing wrong. I cut down on all the snacking I did. I don’t have a fucking eating disorder! It’s just-”

“Just what, Zack?” My mom yells.

My dad grabs her wrist, “Calm down, Liz, let him talk. Go on Zack.”

“It’s just; I have a lot on my mind. I have more time to think if I don’t spend it making and eating food.”

“What could you possibly have to think about, that is that important?”

I jump out of my own seat, gripping the table. I could feel the anger in me rising. “There’s a lot of things, but mainly it’s the fact that I think I’m gay!” I shout. Then I instantly regret it. Had I really just said that out loud? My hands cover over my mouth.

Just as I let that out to my family, my dad, as well as, my brother drop their forks. Peter’s mouth hangs open.

The heat rises to my face, and my eyes start to sting. I start to tremble. I need my razor. I back away from my chair and head towards my room.

“Zee! Stop don’t go!” It’s Peter and he’s reaching for my arms. He catches them at my elbow and pulls me back. “Hey! Come back, we were just surprised! There’s nothing wrong with it. You just… well, I would have never guessed you were gay… I mean… well now it kind of makes sense. Just come back to the table, our parents are curious about this.”

I wanna tell him ‘no’ or to ‘fuck off,’ but I don’t find the energy too. I was still rather drained from earlier and I guess it was easier to just give in.

“And hey,” He says, “Maybe you could eat a little more. I just noticed how thin you got.”

“Not hungry.” I mutter, walking back into the dining room.

My mom and dad are staring at me again. My mom starts to speak, “Zee, I’m really sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

I nod, as Peter pushes me into my seat, since I refuse to move away from the door. The room is full of an awkward air, and it’s suffocating me. “Just go ahead and ask. I know you guys have questions.”

“So… do you have a boyfriend?”

I shake my head.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

Again I shake my head no.

“Well… this is an awkward question, but have you ever had sex with ano-”

“NO!” I shout, “I mean… I just recently came to turns with this. And it’s not like I’d do that with anyone. I’m not a whore.”

“I know it was just a question.”

My brother’s the next one to ask a question, “Is Alex more of a friend to you?”

“I-I … no, we had a fight. I don’t know what we are anymore.” The tears fill my eyes out of no where.

“That wasn’t the question, Zack. My question was do you love Alex?”

I shake my head, tears running down my face, I choke out only one word.

“Yes.”