Light up the Sky

“Why don’t you eat, Mikey?” He asked after a while.

My breath hitched in my throat and I stared at him, why don’t I eat? What a fucking rude question for him to ask me. He had no right – I should be asking him why he doesn’t eat! He’s the one that needs to eat. I don’t, I don’t deserve it.

“Why don’t you eat, Frank?”

He stared at me, and I stared back – almost daring him to answer me. If he was going to ask me that ridiculous question, then I was going to ask him it back.

“That’s not a fair question…” He mumbled and I stared at him harder, my eyebrows crossed.

What did he mean that it wasn’t a fair question? He had asked me that, so why couldn’t I ask him? It seemed perfectly fair to me. Though, I knew the answer to why he didn’t eat, Doctor Rossel had told me – he thought he was fat. Which was completely and utterly wrong – this boy was not fat! He was anything but fat.

“Yes, it is. You asked me, why can’t I ask you?” I asked him, still looking at him – although now I wasn’t staring at him, it felt more like a relaxed gaze that I held upon him.

“Because! Because,” he whispered harshly.

I flinched, almost. I didn’t know what caused him to snap at him and I didn’t like it. I don’t know what it was, but I didn’t want Frank to not like me – there was something drawing me towards this disgusting looking boy that just couldn’t want me to not befriend him. I had never wanted a friend before, never needed one. But there was something about Frank that wanted me to have him as a friend, I needed him as a friend and I didn’t want him to hate me because I asked him why he didn’t eat.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered, only not harshly like he did, it was more of an upset mumble and I made my way to my bed where I sat down on top of my covers and crossed my legs underneath me – sitting like you do in Kindergarten.

I looked down at my hands in my lap, playing with my fingers as I usually do when I’m nervous or upset. I didn’t want to look at Frank’s face; I was scared at what I might see. He was this completely broken boy and I hated the fact that he was. I didn’t know what it was, his face and his body completely grossed me out, but there was something about him that just made me want to reach out towards him, to envelope the beaten boy in a big hug.

I mentally smacked myself, I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I don’t need friends, and I don’t need to get close to anyone.

(What if he left you once he got out of this place, what happens if you get out before him? You’ll then both be left on your own and either you, him or both of you will feel pain. Is that really what you want, do you want even more pain? I don’t think you do – weren’t you always trying to numb yourself to the world, not have any friends, not get close to any one because you wanted to be numb – you didn’t want to be hurt?)

I agreed with my conscience, that was what I wanted and that was what I needed. I needed no one in this world and it was going to stay that way – no grimy and horribly broken boy would be able to change that.

(Good, because you really don’t want that. Just look at him, look at how sunken in his eyes are. Look at the deep purple-black circles that surround his eyes. See the way his rib cage stick out from his t-shirt, how his collar bones are visible through the top of his shirt. Look at his cheekbones, look at them protruding from the skin on his face – do you really want to be friends with that… that monster?)

No, I didn’t want to be – he was completely disgusting and I wasn’t going to let him be my friend, I wasn’t going to allow my self to even want to be his friend. It wasn’t going to happen. It would defeat every point I had ever made to myself and it would ruin everything I was striving for. Frank was not going to get in the way of everything I had worked towards – I wouldn’t let him.

I returned my gaze from Frank’s face back down to my hands and I had to fight the strong urge not to go over to him and hug him. He looked so upset; I think that my face was forming disgusted faces at him when I was studying him. I didn’t mean to do it, it was a subconscious thing and I really did feel awful about the way I was mentally putting him down. He didn’t deserve that, he had done nothing wrong – he hadn’t done anything for me to not like him.

(He hasn’t done anything? Just look at the boy! He’s disgusting, he’s so gross. You don’t want to be friends with that, who does want to be friends with that? I don’t know anyone who does and neither do you – well, of course you don’t if I don’t. You don’t know anyone, meaning I don’t know anyone. But that’s beyond the point – you really don’t want to be seen with this boy. It’s bad enough that you’ve been given a room with him – do not become friends with him as well.)

I nodded slowly to myself, as bad as I felt about it – I knew my conscience was right. I didn’t want to be friends with Frank, it would ruin everything and people would start to think even worse of me. I really didn’t want that, part of the plan to becoming numb was to not feel anything. If I had a friend I would feel something for him, if people thought things of me, I would feel the pain of what they thought. I really did not want that.