Wrists

I didn’t have to call him. Because there he was, book in hand, reading at a circular library table a few ways away from I. He was debuting thick, black-framed glasses, blue eyes squinting at the text in front of him. For once he wasn’t wearing his leather jacket—only a plain black hoodie—and some loose camel-colored cargos with sandals. He looked so laid back; I hadn’t seen him looking like this... ever. I couldn’t help but stare, work long forgotten on the table in front of me.

As if sensing my stare, his eyes gravitated to mine. We both stared curiously at one another for a long while, each wondering whether we should take the initiative to walk over. He gave me a lopsided, bashful grin, and then looked away, snatching off his glasses. I couldn’t help but crack a smile at that; Elijah, for once, was being cute.

Finally, though, I stood up, gathered my belongings, and carefully walked over to where he was sitting. Elijah watched me silently as I lowered myself in the chair beside him, and settled down, reopening my math textbook. He glanced down at his own book, squinting again like he was trying to read it, but opened his mouth and muttered, “Don’t you ever get hungry?”

Strangely, the question wasn’t so shocking. I sort of expected this topic to come back up; I then realized Elijah was just as confused and concerned about me as I was with myself. I wished the demons never came to invade my mind—take over my space—but they did, and I had to handle it one way or another. I was just too afraid to defy them.

“No.” I said softly, staring at my work until it became a big blur. “I’m. I’m empty now, I guess.” I was surprised, though, at how quickly Elijah caught on. He seemed to know what was bothering me for years now as soon as he saw me. Was I making my inner turmoil that evident? Was I just a walking, talking, plea for help? I hadn’t realized it until now.

I slowly raised my eyes and looked around me. While some people were working diligently, others were taking glances at me. Their eyes were full of slight shock and concern. Those unusual stares from complete strangers frightened me. Did everyone know about the demons in my head with just one, good look? Was it showing that much on my face, on my body?

I dared myself to look at my reflection in a nearby window. What first looked like rolls of skin everyone turned into its fake real image: bones, bones, skin, and more bones. I almost gasped. Was that me? That couldn’t be me, could it? That horrid, hollow, empty form staring back at me?

But it is.

No, Graham—that couldn’t possibly be you. You’re hideous, disgusting, a menace. Even your mother and father thinks so. Even your sister. If that was really you, the people you love the most would try to get you help. But they’re not, aren’t they? They’re not. Because the problem is only in your head. Stop pretending to be something you’re not. It’s pathetic..

Bones back to rolls. Shock back to anger, depression, confusion. I quickly turned from my reflection. The problem was only in my head. That’s right. That’s why my mother and father don’t care. It really is just a phase. I’m not sick enough yet.

“Graham?” Elijah asked in a tone that seemed like he’d been calling me for a while. “Are you alright? Your face is turning all red.”

I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at anybody. My stomach felt sick. I could taste pennies and egg whites and coffee in my mouth. I quickly jumped up from my seat. “I just remembered I need to do something.” I packed up my things hurriedly, Elijah watching with wide eyes, and turned to go.

“Graham!”

I stopped mid-step and turned to look at him. He was half-standing, emotion on his face unreadable. “Be. Careful.”

I paused.

And then nodded dumbly.

And then I walked away.

I felt so far away from myself.