Cigarette Burns

I'm not sure how, but I managed to fall asleep and get a few hours of decent sleep before my body woke me up, hissing in pain, cursing me for staying and putting up with everything I do.

I sighed and sat up, my back facing the other side of the bed. I stared at the wall blankly. These walls were too bland- all white. Everything in this room was white- it made me feel crazy. Although, in all honesty I knew I was insane, but what could I do, right?

I stood up and stretched, letting a whimper escape my mouth as my muscles screamed in hatred at me. I blinked away the tears in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around my thinning, bruised torso and limped to the bathroom, softly dragging my feet on the white carpet, but all I saw was red.

When I reached the bathroom, I hesitated about locking the door. If he were home, he would get so angry at me for locking it. I debated, but decided to lock it and be as quick as I possibly could in the shower. I stripped of my clothing rather slowly and stepped into the stone-decorated shower. I closed the glass beside me and turned on the water right away. I didn't care that the steaming water was burning my skin, making me turn red, compared to my pale and ghost-like complexion. To me, the water was cold- the water was useless to my aching muscles. I depended on it too much- it no longer took on the effect that it used too for me.

I stood there, clutching my body as my frail limbs began to convulse and quiver. This was the only place I could cry. I buried my face into my hands tightly and screamed as loud and hard as I could, letting out my self hatred and letting it slide down me and disappear into the drain.

I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me instantly. I debated about taking another one to use to dry my hair- I threw that thought away. I was in too much pain to begin with- I couldn't handle anymore for a few days.

I unlocked the door and hustled into the red-tinted bedroom. I opened up my half of the closet, pulled out a pair of blue jeans that had a few tears here and there. I grabbed one of my Guns 'N' Roses black; loose fitting t-shirts and a black, light, Misfits hoodie. I walked to my dresser, grabbed undergarments and rushed back into the bathroom. I got dressed quickly, brushed through my hair, brushed my teeth and headed back into the bedroom.

I didn't bother with make-up today, my face wasn't multi-coloured anymore. My hair wasn't quite to my shoulders, although it was layers, it was semi-thin hair, which in my case, it would dry quickly and wouldn't look terrible. It was naturally flat, which I enjoyed- not that I ever did anything with it... not that I ever did anything at all.

I slipped on my low top black and white trashed converse. I used to love those shoes, back before my life went to hell. It kills me to look at them, but I had no choice but to wear them. I had no choice to do anything.

I didn't bother grabbing my backpack, although I made sure I had my cigarettes. I opened the front door, locked it and began walking down the street towards my high school.

I lived in Huntington Beach, California. I haven't seen the beach in three long, terrible years. I lived so close to it, yet I could never go there. I wasn't... allowed. I shook my head and blinked away more tears as I hugged myself closer. I turned a corner and saw my school in the mid-distance. My mouth twitched in a slight smile, as I thought to myself that for the next 7 hours, I would be free.

When I got to the front doors, I saw a familiar shape- but everything looks the same to me these days. I shook my head and kept on my way towards the doors. As I was about to reach for it, the door opened magically. I turned my head slightly to the side and stared at it.

"Ladies first," I heard the voice from last night say in a raspy tone. I really am insane. I'm imagining things now... oh this can't be good.

I felt a gentle hand on the small of my back, give me a little kick-start through the door. I slightly jumped at the electric shock sent through my body. I turned around slowly and stared up at what I thought was going to be thin air.

I studied the dimples first, then the kind, intriguing eyes, back down to the kind smile. When I was done making sure it was real, I looked at the face completely, when everything came together, it made a beautiful picture. Oh boy, would I regret thinking that later today...

I turned around quickly and dashed for my locker. I swerved in between person after person like I was a guided missile, a bomb waiting to explode at any given moment. Any minute that I was allowed to feel anything.

After I retrieved my books from my locker, I took off in the direction of my homeroom period. I sat down in the back of my classroom and took out my sketchbook. I flipped open to a fresh page and began to aimlessly draw. When I drew, everything around me was non-existent.

"You're really good," I heard that angelic, raspy voice speak again.

I slammed my book shut and whipped my head around to my right side. Sure enough, he was there again. He smiled at me again, his dimples showing. I tried to think of something to do, because I knew I couldn't speak. He didn't seem offended by my actions, he just kept smiling.

I finally knocked some sense into myself and slightly smiled back- the corners of my mouth twitching up into a smile. He didn't remove his gaze from my face, not even when the teacher called order to the classroom. The teacher began calling out names of the students in the classroom. Everything was a blur of sound to me.

"Matt Sanders?" the boy smiled slightly but didn't move an inch, "here." he called. Matt Sanders... mystery boy... the mystery boy that was going to get me into a lot of trouble.

"Riley Smith?" the teacher called, I twitched. "Here," I spoke, in barley a whisper, a broken whisper. The teacher continued with the names, which faded into a blur once again.

This is not good. This is really not good, I repeated to myself.