Scream

She screamed, the noise ripping from her throat as she kicked out at the wall. Her fists were clenched and her hair covered her face as she rocked forwards. Stopping for a few seconds, she gulped, refilling her lungs, she was panting slightly and every now and again, a violent tremor would rack through her. This only seemed to anger her more, as she once again let out an almost feral scream. Her voice cracked halfway through and it left her coughing, scratching and clawing at her throat. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, her nose was running and the hands around her neck had tightened, blocking off her airways.

When her eyes began to roll in her sockets, she released herself. Air flooded into her lungs and she lashed out again, smashing her legs into the wall before her. Her shins were already mottled and stained with bruises, her toes slightly crushed due to her violent attacks. She was breathing heavily by now, her eyes were red and swollen, but she still managed to glare at her hands with a look of pure hatred. She had been so close this time, so close to passing out, if only she had a bit more control. A ragged sob escaped her lips as she turned to lie across the plush duvet on her bed.

After a few moments of self-reassurance that one day – perhaps tomorrow, if she was lucky – she would manage to faint, to black out, to escape everyone, her breathing had returned to normal. She pushed herself into a sitting position and rearranged her hair so that she could see. Shakily, she stood and walked over to her desk. Everything was organized, everything was neat and she knew exactly where everything was. Her notebook was open at the next clean page and her black pens were in a line on the left of it, the blue ones on the left. The shelf above it held her books, all of which were in alphabetical order and were standing perfectly straight. Except for one. She reached out a trembling hand, maybe to straighten it, she wasn’t sure, but once her fingers closed around the spine something snapped. She flung the book across the room, watching as it slammed into her door, leaving a small indentation. Her fists clenched as her body began to shake, her mouth opened, ready to let loose another scream.

The noise was lost, however, in amongst the bangs and clatters of other books and pens and soft toys flew across the room. She spun, dragging the sheets, duvet and pillows off her bed. They were creased from where she’d been writhing and kicking the wall, so it’s not like they were any use to her any more. The material landed in a heap on the floor, and she threw herself down in front of it, allowing her to snatch at it. If only she had more upper body strength, it would have been easy to tear it. If she had more control, she wouldn’t be trying to rip it in the first place.

“Stupid, stupid girl,” she sobbed, fingers buried in the soft cotton. “If only…if only.”
Yet again, a scream ripped from her throat as she let her body fall limp so that she fell into the sheets. She lay there crying for the longest time, until there was a quiet knock at the door. When she made no effort to get up and let whoever it was in, they opened the door and poked their head into the room.

“Sunny? Sunshine? Ella?” The boy stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He crouched down next to her, gently moving her hair out of her face. She sniffed and muttered something incomprehensible into the many layers of pink and white bed linen. “C’mon Sunshine, I can’t hear you,” he rolled her over so that he could see her face. As he did so, her hands shot up to her face in an attempt to hide the fact she’d been crying. He carefully prised them away, rough fingers closing around bony wrists.

“I didn’t…I was…” her words seemed to be stuck to her tongue, making it feel heavy in her mouth.

“Oh, Ella,” he soothed, hugging her to his chest and running his fingers through her knotty hair. “I’m here now; everything’s going to be fine, yeah?” He began to hum softly and rock her to and from, much like you would a child.

“Everything’s going to be fine. Tyler’s here…Tyler’s here…” she whispered. Tyler always made things better, always. He’d always know when to pop in and hold her until she was calm; he was always here when she needed him. He’d stroke her cheek and tell her stories and call her Sunny, she loved it when he called her Sunny. It made her smile. Tyler liked it when she smiled, he’d always say ‘there’s my Sunny smile’, and then he’d smile, and Ella would feel all warm and tingly inside.

Too bad he’s not real.

“No, Tyler’s real. He is. I can see him and I can hold his hand, and he can hold my hand. He is real, he is,” she said.

“Of course I’m real, Ella. I’ll always be here for you,” Tyler held her tighter, dropping a kiss on to the top of her head.

“But it’s back, Tyler, it’s back,” her voice was choked, as if it was difficult for her to form words, let alone say them out loud.

I never went away, so how can I be back?

“Oh, Tyler! Make it stop! Make it stop!” Ella’s hands were gripping his shirt tightly, so tight her knuckles had turned white.

See, you always ignore me. It’s always about Tyler. How do you think I feel, Ella?

Yet again, she screamed. Louder than all the other times, but for not as long. From all the crying and previous screaming fits, her throat was raw and her ears were ringing. She kicked and banged her feet against the floor, ignoring the pain that shot up her legs. Her voice eventually faded to nothing and when it did, she opened her eyes.

“Tyler?” She sat up, all bleary eyes and shaking limbs and looked around for the boy. “Tyler? Where are you?”

She stood and began rooting through draws and her duvet, he had to be here, he had to be. She still needed him; he wasn’t supposed to leave until she said so. Fresh tears filled her eyes and she had to blink them away furiously.

“I guess,” she took a deep, shuddering breath. “I guess this means you’ve won.”

The voice inside her head simply smirked at her, and then retreated back to the deepest recess of her mind.