Skinny Love

I am livid, my body is on fire and I feel like I am on pins and needles.

“Who put you up to this?!” I shout, throwing my frail arms up in the air and feel my eyes sting.

“Lucy, I—“ he starts but I cut him off with another shout that rattles my chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

I am on my feet now, looking down at him with tear stained eyes and my heart feels like it will fall out through my mouth.

He jumps up, walking towards me but I put my hands up and shake my head vigorously.

“I want to go home.” I speak, my voice sturdy and hard.

He only nods, doesn’t say a word and picks up our belongings. For the first time his back is facing me. I have hurt him. I have stopped him from being what he wants to be.

My secret always lingered and there were vague ideas in some people’s brains but now it is completely exposed and I feel naked.

I feel my insecurities popping out against my body for the entire lonely state of New Jersey to see.

The car ride is silent and tense, our breathing is the only thing we can hear and for the next twenty minutes I stare out of the window and wish I could just blow away with the wind.

He doesn’t play music. There’s no need for it. He knows I am mad. He knows I am hurt. But he knows who I am and what I’ve been doing.

I can’t look at him, in fear of having my bones break and bent backwards into oblivion.

I slam the door shut as soon as he stops in front of my house. I say nothing and rush to my door, surprised that I didn’t slip and fall on the dewy pavement.

My mother walks over and asks softly, “Lucy, what’s wrong?”

I open my mouth to speak but I know if I tell her what’s going on, she will know who I really am. So I keep my lips shut, shake my head and hurry up the stairs into the one place I can let it all out.

This is the carpet where my footsteps have paced around since the first time I felt worry creep up on my skin.

These are the walls that have kept the downpour shut out from the world.

This is where I broke as a child and became the faded memory of a girl that was once known.

His words are dragging along my mind, sinking its teeth into my skull and vibrating against my head.
Help. What does help entail? Help is another word for, something is wrong with you and we’re not sure if we can fix it but we’re sure as hell going to try.

My feet scramble towards the bathroom and I collapse, hands and knees on the floor and my head sunk into the toilet. My fingers know what to do and soon enough there is everything I consumed in the past few days. Floating up in the water and showing me the monster I have become.
I don’t need help. I need to sink into the ground and wash away with the rain.

-

The night is quiet and dull. I am home alone. My parents are breathing in the night, basking in its glory and expressing their love to each other.

Mikayla is busy with teenagers who spend their nights swallowing gallons of alcohol and wallowing away with people they taste at midnight.

Gerard is distant and silent.

The house creaks with every step I take, showing me the landmarks I’ve made growing up.

My fingertips trace along the dust sprinkled atop the piano.

I look around for the first time with wide eyes and perspectives I never held before.

There are memories in every spot of this house; they come in different colors and different sounds.

I sit on the wooden floor and I don’t hear it creak the second I push my weight down.

I stare at the walls; watch the colors dance along the pupils of my eyes.

I can almost see the stars peeking through.

I can see his face. I can see the hazel orbs of his eyes and the crooked smile that I know so well.

I can see the moments where I stopped breathing and let the worry cascade over me.

I can see where in the insecurities over ruled the dawn of my life.

I can see the person I was.

She is young, careless and free.

But now she sits on the floor, outlining the past to pin point where it all went wrong.

I feel my heart racing, the adrenaline pumping through my veins and the realization hits me.

He has been here. He has seen past the bones, past the flaws, past the definition of who I think I should be.

He is my life-line.

-

I throw a pebble against the glass of his window to let him know I am here. I am outside, holding myself against the cold. I see his eyes peek through the curtain, even in the dark I can see them glisten.

He is gone in a second but I know where he goes. My feet find their way to his front door. He opens it up enough to let me through, the cold air vanishing as soon as I step foot inside.

He says nothing, he only pulls me to his couch quietly, careful not to wake the house up.

We sit down and I know there is no weight as I fall against the cushion.

The weight on my shoulders is on a string, ready to sink further or rise up.

“Lucy—“ he speaks up, his voice raspy with sleep but I put a finger to his lips, keeping him quiet for the moment.

My fingers grip the bottom of his shirt and I tug it off, pulling it over his shoulders and I let it fall to the ground.

I see him perfectly clear. I sincerely see his skin. My fingers are dancing along it, pressing gently and marking my fingertips.

He is perfectly structured.

He is flawless.

He is my life-line.

He sits still, watching my eyes glaze over him while I memorize each of his marks and where they lay.

I reach up and move strands of hair away from his face to reveal the glow that radiates from his eyes.

My chest is contracting, sending the signals to my body that I am weak and that I know it now.

I feel the sting come in contact with my eyes but I let it go, feeling the warm rush of water drop down my cheeks.

His fingers rub each one away gently.

I look down for a second; afraid to get the words out, afraid he’ll turn away.

I swallow thickly; swallow back the bile that is so familiar I know it like a sister.

He cups my jaw gently, pushes my face up and our eyes meet.

My lips are moving, forming the words and my throat lets it all out.

“Gerard, I need help.”