Suburbia

I haven’t moved. I have sat here, against the wall, all night. Everything inside me is empty. I can’t think properly. It’s like that static that blares across the television when there’s no signal: it’s playing behind my eyes, blurring out any thoughts attempting to penetrate.

I feel rough all over, brittle and hollow, as if someone had emptied a life’s supply of razors into my body and left them there to rust, letting them scratch away at my skin until there is nothing left.

It’s strange how you can feel as though you have fought and lost a thousand horrifying battles when in reality you have only sat alone all night, propped against the wall, afraid you’ll smash into a thousand aching pieces if you move.

I must have fallen asleep after Eve curled up next to me, because one moment she was there and the next it was dark and I was alone once more.

I didn’t sleep again after that. I sat and stared at the wall, letting the static behind my eyelids slowly numb any feeling that had been trying to break through. I had watched with mild interest the light creep across the floor until the crass beeping of my alarm broke the dusty calm that had been settling over my shoulders, quietening my sand paper skin and salty blood.

I wonder for a moment if I could sit here forever, if it would be easier than picking myself up and just continuing on, if maybe I would be happier to just listen to the quiet and watch the static behind my eyes.

But of course, I can’t. I can almost hear Craig’s voice echoing in my head, whispering just like he always used to, “No one needs to know if you’re falling apart, nothing is so important that you can’t just keep on going.”

Either way my mum’s already shrieking up the stairs.

I allow myself a few more moments of blissful emptiness before I force myself to move, breaking the delicate, spider web illusion of stillness. Forcing that beautiful mirage that everything is not shattering all around me to splinter away.

I just pick myself up, and ignore the razorblades rattling inside me, and just keep on going. Because nothing is so important and no one needs to know.

.

I never understood why Riley started to hang out with Jackson. When he began to avoid us and stopped returning our calls, Craig and I just tried to shrug it off. But it was harder than we thought to ignore the empty silence that had taken the place of Riley’s rambling chatter. It underlined just how little either of us really spoke to each other, how few real words we actually said, not the insignificant string of syllables we would drawl out after years of practice.

I’m not sure if Craig ever forgave Riley. He might not have said anything about it or let on that anything was up but loyalty was a big deal to Craig and I think Riley’s actions were far more irreversible in his eyes than he ever let on. Even to me.

It’s strange how we were never nutters when we were with Riley. We weren’t doing anything different, just no one saw us that way. Riley had the perfect amount of dorkiness and energy to level out whatever factor made Craig and I certified psychos to the rest of the student population.

It was after Riley had slunk away into Jackson’s shadow that people began to whisper about us and trip us up on dares. It didn’t really matter though because we still both had the each other to grab our elbow just before we skidded across the tarmac.

Not now though, now I have no one to warn me of that spiteful foot in front of me and my books fly impressively into the air while bits of paper flutter around me before falling softly onto the grass.

As I kneel down to pick the mess up, I hear that echo of laughter that always follows a successful fall, the laughter that is tinged with genuine fear. God knows what they’re thinking I’ll do to them.

It’s as I’m crumpling the bits of paper back into my books, while my jeans are slowly soaking themselves with dew, that I look up to see Johnny crossing the huge field beyond the lunch area, towards the small huddle of trees in the centre.

This isn’t strange in itself I guess and certainly no one around me has noticed it, but Johnny keeps looking over his shoulder nervously and he is walking far faster than necessary.
I watch him cross the field all the way into the cove of trees where he’s hidden from all sight. I stop and watch for a little bit longer than I usually would, normally these things don’t really bother me, I keep myself to myself, but I’ve always liked Johnny, he’s just the kind of guy that everyone likes. Even supposed psychos.

But suddenly, in those few extra seconds I stare out to the field, Jackson strides his way into my line of vision (Riley, of course, scurrying behind), crossing the field with conflicting determination to his usual bored slump. I watch them follow Johnny into the small island of trees, looking around to see if anyone else has noticed any of this, but of course they have not.

I bite the edge of my thumb, trying to come up with a non sinister reason for why Jackson would follow Johnny into a deserted area where no one could see them.

When neither Johnny nor Jackson come back in sight, I slowly start my way across the field, my strides getting faster the closer I get and no Johnny appears.