The Blood In Your Veins Is Twenty Below.

I couldn’t remove his bitter judgment from my head on my walk to school. How could he be so cruel? His words hurt more than any possibly hit he could place upon my body. My mind was racing all night repeating what he said over and over again. It was like a broken record that just wouldn’t stop. This caused dark purple to underline the bottom of my eyes from the lack of sleep I received.

The event of last night ran through my head. I did something I regret. And there was no way to get rid of it. The proof of the incident lays right on my wrist. The razor glided so gracefully across it like it was meant to be there, but the pain told me otherwise. The cheap stainless steal left blood to dry and now appeared as a deep red mark that would eventually scar.

My first class of the day was with Max. Dreading seeing him, I slowly walked to class. He wasn’t there yet which kind of made me feel better because I had not gotten prepared to face him yet and pretend like yesterday never happened. Embarrassment shot through my body like a bullet remembering myself crying in front of him. I couldn’t believe I cried in front of Max Green, now I appeared even weaker than before.

It turned out Max wasn’t in science today. I had no doubt that he skipped because he wasn’t looking forward to seeing me.

The first couple of classes seemed to go by pretty quick. I started to get my mind off of Max and everything that happened the night before. Not fully getting rid of the thought. His words were still drilled into my head. And I had many questions I asked myself over and over again. Did he even care? Was he actually sorry? What will happen the next time I see him? All these were left unanswered. Until lunch.

There he was. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He didn’t look as confident as he usually does. Which was quite odd to see. His eyes looked underlined with purple as well. But even with the sleepless look of his eyes, he still looked really good. Max still had baby face, and it made him look so innocent. But his untainted beholding betrayed his dreadful personality. In real life he was nothing of the sort, he was careless and brutal.

He looked in my direction seeing me staring at him. Almost on cue I looked away. but my eyes were still in his direction, trying to hide me dumbly gazing at him. Apparently one of his friends spotted my presence because he began to whisper to his other friend. Abruptly they began to walk over to me. This caused me to instantly look down at the table afraid of what was to come. It was times like this when I wish magic was existent.

“Hey faggot.” he smiled. There was a tingling feeling that rushed through my veins revealing the anguish of suffering. I felt like I was being kicked repeatidly. I was so vulnerable and they loved it. They enjoyed seeing the pain that crossed my features. Most of the time I would at least try to cover up my grieving but today my confidence wasn‘t quite there.

“I saw you eyeing up my boy right here,” he pointing to Max, the same smile plastered on his face. An all to familiar look. It was like he always looked like this. Remember when you were younger and your mother told you not to make a face too long or that it will be stuck that way? Obviously he was that kid that didn’t listen. “You got a crush on him?” Max avoided all eye contact with me.

“No” I mumbled quickly getting up and trying to walk away. But just as fast as I got up, I got pulled right back down. Kind of like not my emotions worked. The worst part was where his hand landed when he jerked me back. My wrist.“Ow!” I winced, rubbing my now throbbing wrist. I felt so helpless which made me feel even more embarrassed.

“What’s this?” he asked, lifting up my sweater sleeve exposing my freshly cut wrist. “Oh so you cut now you emo faggot?"

I glanced over at Max. His eyed were now glued on my wrist. His expression was surprised. His eyes went wide and I could see the odd sympathy he has been showing for the past two days. Followed by a tint of hurt expressing through his unnaturally beautiful eyes. I just wanted to go over and embrace him in my scrawny arms. But no, I couldn’t. This was just fake sympathy, he didn’t give a shit about me.

I couldn’t stay here any longer so I got up again and ran out of school. My walk home was a difficult mind battle trying to forget about everything that has happened these past few days. Or just trying to forget my whole life. I stopped right in my tracks seeing the white car in the driveway. My dad was home. I began to put myself together the best I could as I cautiously walked in my house hoping my dad was either sober or passed out somewhere.

“Hey s-son.” My father slurred out, scaring the shit out of me. I didn’t reply, I couldn’t reply. My mouth seemed to be sewed shut. I hadn’t seen my father in two weeks and the last time I saw him it wasn’t a pleasant time.

My father grabbed my arm and pulled me down next to him. “Why are all these fucking bottles all over the living room floor?” still I couldn’t speak. There was no good response to that. He would get mad at anything I said. His arm came up and took at swing at my chest. “Answer me!” he slurred out, loudly.

“You-you put them there last time you came home. I d-didn’t know I was suppose to clean it up.” I bit the inside of my cheek afraid of what might happen next.

“Bullshit! Don’t try to pin this shit on me. You know you’re suppose to clean up in here you little bitch!” He stood up as I cowered into the folds of the couching wish I could just disappear. I was terrified. He looked like he was gonna do more to me than just a quick punch quick he usually did. He was angrier than usual.

“Where’s your fucking brother?” I didn’t know where he was. So I just shrugged my skeletal like shoulders. His face filled with even more rage, if that was possible. “Well it looks like you’re the only one I’m going to have to vent my anger at.” With that he pushed me to the ground and kicked me in the stomach. Well I already felt like shit on the inside so why not the outside as well?

I looked up at my dad, a pained look across my face. He swayed across from his intoxicated state and punched my ribs repeatedly. I felt like they were breaking with every hit. As soon as that was over and made one last jolt to my stomach before heading off to his bedroom.

Getting up slowly, I walked to my room taking my shirt off with trouble and laying on my bed. I quickly drifted off to sleeping, praying I wouldn’t wake up.