Speechless

Numb.

So terribly numb.

Heart racing. Fingers dancing across the table.

Here we go again.

Another family dinner without human interaction.

Food goes to waste.

The stars still can’t be seen.

I stared aimlessly into the night sky like I did that fateful night. I was waiting for a sign, for answers. Why did it end?

“Do the dishes, Ryan.”

“’Kay”

I mindlessly rinsed of each plate, cup, fork, knife, spoon, etc., etc. They went in the dishwasher one by one until it was too full to be filled with anymore dishes. In went the soap, shut went the dishwasher, and on went the wash cycle. Everything was mindless and done without feeling.

Watching the transparent reflection of my face in the glass of the window, my self-esteem began to drop. What did I do wrong?

I trudged across the kitchen, up the stairs, and into my bathroom. Nothing was worth it. Shiny blades stared back into my eyes, enticing me with the most violent of wishes. I couldn’t do this to myself. The idea was so inviting, so warm, so comforting. I stared and stared, unable to shake the thoughts away.

No, this was wrong.

I needed an escape. My fingers brushed against the promising escape. My mind tore into two characters: the devil and the angel. Which one would persuade me? Fuck it all. I grabbed the razor and mangled it, releasing the shining blades that would soon inflict comfort. I chose a spot high on my shoulder. No one would ever see that. The blade made its mark. A dull pain shot through, but my mind was clear of that emotional pain, and for a split second, I felt at-ease. It didn’t last very long.

What had I done to myself? The mark on my shoulder was now visible. Blood dripped slowly. No going back. No stopping now. The deed was done. My arm was no longer clean. I grabbed a washcloth and dabbed away at the bleeding wound. It was small, barely noticeable. Still, it was there forever.

I didn’t know what to think, what to feel. It was better than before. I stared at my reflection again. This time, it was completely opaque. I had a strong urge to smash the mirror with my bare hands. I didn’t want to look at the face of rejection. The perfect summer was completely shattered. Memories were all I knew. Everything I was at this point was in those memories. He made me who I was, and now I had nothing to hold onto.

--

“Hey, Brendon, what’s wrong with Ryan?”

I walked in back like I had that first day. Spencer and Brendon were talking like happy best friends in front while I walked on behind the two like the loner I was.

“Nothing.”

Pain was twisted into his voice. It cut me like a knife, the painful kind – not the pleasant kind. I was beginning to think maybe he could have possibly regretted his decision, yet he didn’t seem to be going back to me any time soon. I didn’t want him back anyways. I mean, I did, but why would I go back to someone only to have them hurt me again?

Though, that summer was the happiest I’ve been since I was just a small child.

They talked; I walked.

They still talked.

I still walked.

It was a never ending cycle. Every day was exactly the same. He and I were drifting apart.

--

The marks on my arms grew in numbers. I was forced to change in the stalls during my PE class to hide the scars from Brendon. I was a shadow of my former self, or a mirror image of myself before I met Brendon. My voice was no longer a working mechanism and neither was my mind. Every day was the same. My dad asked me how school was; I refused to reply. He shrugged it off as nothing, not even noting my melancholy stance as I forced myself upstairs to take another dose of self-inflicted pain.

The blade did its job, and I proceeded to clean it off. I noticed my reflection again. The scars were hideous and repulsive. Wouldn’t it have been great if I had the guts to just smash the mirror?

My fingers brushed across the blade. Could I continue this nonsense? I thought about what Brendon would say if he knew. He would be devastated and blame himself. I don’t know how he’d handle something like this.

Still, the escape was invigorating, inviting, and limitless. I couldn’t just stop now. I was just about to make one last mark for the day when the doorbell rang.

I quickly hid the blade in the drawer of the bathroom vanity. My sweatshirt was immediately on my body, covering my bleeding wounds as I hurried down the stairs to answer the door.

A familiar face stared back at me. With the wave of a hand, my summertime lover was in my house again. My shoulder itched for another swipe of the blade.

“What do you want?”

“I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why do you care? You obviously never did before.”

He looked down at his shoes without denying anything. Of fucking course.

“Look – ”

“Give it a rest. Just, go. I’m done. I don’t want to see you ever again. I’m sick of seeing you every day. I’m sick of you always being right there within reach, yet so far away. I can’t take it anymore. Either you leave me alone, or I’ll just disappear soon enough. It’ll be like I never existed.”

The shock in his face gave me a twisted feeling of pleasure in my stomach. Did I mean the words I said? Hell no. Still, I wanted him to hurt as badly as I did. If we couldn’t be happy together, we’d be dead together.

“Ry… I…” he stopped and stared at my shoulder for a second. “Ryan, your sweatshirt has a blood stain on it.”

Fuck. Of course. I grabbed the gray one, not the black one.

“It’s nothing. Just.. just go.”

He didn’t budge. Instead he forced the sweatshirt off of my body. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He gasped in horror at the marks on my shoulder. The self-harm felt good to me, but looked like demon’s work.

“Oh my God. Ryan. I didn’t… I… I’m sorry… Ryan… Please…”

“Get out of my house.” My voice was sharp and angry. My eyes were daggers piercing into his skull. I opened the door and pushed him out.

“Don’t come back.”

“Ryan, please…”

“No.”

I shut the door and locked it. No more.