Down Low

When I finally took a step outside, I stood frozen on the sidewalk. It had been so long since I left the house, that the bright sun rays and late summer breeze felt foreign to my skin. I blinked rapidly as I tried to get my eyes to adjust to the light before I made my way to the B&Q a few streets down. I was sweating like mad and mentally berated myself for cutting in the first place. I can’t even leave my room without wearing a long-sleeve shirt. I need to make sure that I never cut my thighs. I’d probably die of a stroke if I couldn’t wear shorts. I stopped about halfway to the store to put my hair up in a bun, because I just couldn’t handle whatever heat wave this was. Anyway, not important.

I got inside, walked straight to the paint aisle and splurged. There were so many colors I needed and it wasn’t like I was going to use my money on anything else. At least, nothing trivial like food or clothes. I had enough of that. The metal cart that was now filled to the brim with paint cans and stencils kept producing this repetitive clang as I headed toward the register. When I saw the inquisitive face of the young cashier, I felt accomplishment swell in my chest. I was going to do this. The manager permit me take the cart home, because like an idiot, I only brought my backpack which was about as useless as a piece of plastic.

But, as usual, my happiness was cut short. When I arrived home Alex was sitting on my bed just…waiting for me. I have to say that I’ve never had an emotion fade so quickly in my life. Immediately, I was frustrated, annoyed, a little sad…and all because of him. Okay, it wasn’t his fault at all, but he’s my scapegoat for the moment.

“So you finally woke up, huh?” Alex stated with an agitated voice. I shrugged my shoulders and averted my eyes from his stare. I mean, what did he want me to say? I wasn’t sorry, I did nothing wrong. I just simply wasn’t into constantly being surrounded by people. I didn’t care for attachments. Just look at where they got me.

“Look, I’m real busy. So can you just go?” I asked, putting the paint cans down, before turning away and walking downstairs for the others. He followed me. I was really hoping he’d walk out the door in a huff and finally realize that he should really stay as far away from me as he could possibly manage, but I guess he’s an idiot, too. No, instead he took one look at the pile of cans near the door, rolled up his sleeves and started bring them up four at a time to my room. I have to admit, I tilted my head to the side in appreciation of his muscles before shaking off my inappropriate thoughts. Those cans were heavy. And that’s an understatement. But maybe that’s just because I have no arm strength whatsoever.

When I reached my bedroom door, Alex brushed past me without a glance and without a word. I put down what I was holding and stood in my spot, watching him as he brought the rest of them into my room. Once he was finished he was sweating somewhat. He wiped the sweat off his brow and looked up at me with bright blues eyes and his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“What are you making, anyway?” he breathed out, hands placed firmly on his hips.

“A mural. And I would appreciate it if you’d let me get to work. I don’t have much time and –”

“Then I can help,” he stated, cutting me off. I could tell he was over my ignoring him for the past few weeks, because he threw me a boyish, playful grin that just oozed stubbornness. I wasn’t getting rid of him that easily. I sighed.

“You’re not leaving are you?”

“Nope!” He cheerfully replied. I rolled my eyes and decided to just make the most of it. So I did everything in my power to annoy the shit out of him. A wary expression crept up on Alex’s face as a low, maniacal laugh escaped my lips. This isn’t common knowledge, but I’m basically the biggest derp ever when I’m in a good mood. This could be fun.

So, for the next hour and a half I had Alex move out all of my unpacked boxes, shoes, clothes, furniture and computer into the hallway. Needless to say, he was pretty frustrated by the time he was finished. Success. I knew what I was painting, so I just put on the base colors for the gradient I was creating. The upper half of my walls and the ceiling was coated in black paint. Then the colors faded into purple, yellow, and blue. At the moment, it didn’t look like much, but the idea behind it was pretty well planned out. After a few hours, I finally plopped down on the floor, face down, and heaved a tired sigh. I was about to fall asleep when I felt a foot nudge my side.

“You dead?” Alex asked before lying down next to me.

“You know…you really shouldn’t breathe in the paint fumes for too long, they’re poisonous when wet,” I pointed out, turning my head to look at him. I almost jumped, because he was a lot closer to me than he sounded. I could feel the heat of his body reach mine, and as awkward as the situation was, I closed my eyes in comfort.

“Shouldn’t you be taking your own advice, then?” he chuckled, “You trying to kill yourself or something?”

“Maybe.”

It slipped out, I swear. I’m not even sure if I really meant it. But nevertheless, my eyes popped open to find Alex’s dead stare. I quickly shot up to my feet and laughed nervously.

“I’m joking, relax will you?”

“You really shouldn’t joke about that,” he retorted angrily, getting up as well. Not even a butcher knife would be capable of cutting through the tension in that moment. So I panicked.

“Who are you to tell me what to do and say? This is why I didn’t want you here in the first place. All you’ve done is ruin my mood and judge me since I got here. So would you kindly get the fuck out?” I felt terrible as soon as the words escaped my mouth. I’m not sure where my outburst even came from. It was a simple comment. He didn’t know how close I was to breaking. His face contorted in hurt and confusion, and then just like that I knew. I was losing it.

My feet carried me so quickly across the plush carpet that I created static electricity and actually shocked myself when I touched the door handle to the bathroom. What kind of an idiot does that?

Anyway, from behind the door I could hear Alex’s muffled voice calling out to me, apologizing frantically for being so ‘harsh’ and ‘insensitive’. But he had done nothing. I turned the knob on the door until I heard the familiar ‘click’ of the lock, and fished around the cabinet for the small box of razors I had concealed behind my assortment of hair products. I held onto the box for dear life until I heard Alex’s voice slowly trail off and disappear behind the constant whirring of the air conditioner.

My vision began to blur. I must have sliced myself about twenty times in a row. Wow, that sounded more macabre than I intended. I might as well have been one of those pigs at the slaughterhouse. I was a wreck. The white tiled floor was now stained red –the pool of blood expanding rapidly like water in a bathtub. I couldn’t feel a thing except the sting of the blade and the warm, red blood thickening on my arm. This is when I became my own walking horror show. A girl so fucked up in the head that she thinks that she needs to feel pain in order to get a grip on reality and somehow still escape it. When the urge hits me, it’s like every single inch of my body itches. And for a second, I believe that maybe whatever the hell mental problem my mother has is genetic. What if she took the drugs because she couldn’t handle the debilitating fact that she was going insane? But that couldn’t be right. I decided not to think about that. Then I’d really go nuts. Instead, I scrubbed the floor, bandaged myself up and changed my clothes…and went back to painting my mural like nothing happened.