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The Boy On the Blue Moon Dreams of Sun
Scaring The Thought Of Kissing Razors
I run into the library and pull out my phone.
"Matty, I don't know what to do!" I quickly walk into the bathrooml and take out my razor. I run it over my fingers, the smooth metal tempting me. "I can't do this anymore," I say in exasperation.
"Kellin you can get through this. You always do," he says calmly. How does he manage to stay so calm in situations like this?
"I have the razor in my hand," I say feeling ashamed. He must think I'm so pathetic.
"Don't do it! You haven't cut in months, don't go back now," he says rapidly. Before I can even respond, he hangs up. I drop the blade and fall to my knees. Everything has been so difficult lately and my attraction to a fucking teacher isn't helping. I quickly walk out the bathroom and bump into someone, causing us to fall. I get up and offer my hand to the stranger.
"Here, let me help you." The boy ignores me and gets up by himself.
"I don't need your help, faggot!" My eyes finally catch sight of their face and I jump back. "Alex I-I didn't know it was you." He rolls his eyes and rips my bag away from me. "Let's see what you have in here," he says rummaging through my things.
"No!" I yell. I try to take the bag from him but his grip is too tight. He pulls out my notebook and starts flipping through the pages.
"Lyrics? These are pretty good," he says smiling.
"I might just use these songs for my band." I shake my head and kick him in the balls. He falls to the floor and I grab my notebook.
"You're dead Quinn!" I run out the library and down the street before he can catch up.
By the time I make it home, I'm out of breath. I've never ran so fast in my life. Why did I have to kick him? He's going to kill me tomorrow! Maybe I'll just skip school. No, then my dad would kill me. Either way, I'm screwed. I lay on the bed and think about my mom. I wish she was still here. If only I could hear her voice one more time. I'd do anything to see her loving face once again. I look at my wrist and sigh, running my fingers over the fading scars.
"I won't go back," I mutter over and over. Something tells me I won't be saying that for long.
*The next morning*
I'm awaken by the sounds of my father downstairs. I hear him cry out in pain and I race down the steps.
"Dad are you okay!" I scream out. My eyes widen and I gasp when I see him. He's laying on the floor clutching his chest. "I can't breathe!" He yells roughly. I quickly pull out my phone and dial 911.
I kneel down beside him and grab his hand.
"Don't worry dad, I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere until I know you're okay." He grips my hand and his breathe hitches.
"I'm sorry son," he says before his eyes close. I check his pulse and thankfully, he's still breathing. His breathing is very short and I start to fear for his life. What if he doesn't make it? The ambulance finally arrives and they put him on a stretcher. I ride to the hospital with them and sit in the waiting room. It's only been a few days since school started and so much has happened already. It seems like eternity until the doctors finally return, ready with news of my father's condition.
"How is he?" I ask fearful of the answer.
"Your father has severe alcohol poising. He's going to be fine but untreated alcohol poising can lead to irreversible brain damage, seizures, hypothermia, or in extreme cases, death. You'll need to help him get his drinking under control."
"I'll do whatever I can to help." I tell him quickly.
I walk into my father's hospital room and sit down beside him. He may have hurt me in the past but he's all I have left. I can't loose both of my parents. I won't let that happen. I'll do anything I can to help him beat this addiction. I look at the clock and read 11:26. I might as well stay here. There's no point in going to school now.
On the bright side, maybe Alex has forgotten about yesterday. Oh who am I kidding, he hasn't forgotten. I remember back in eleventh grade, I accidental tripped him and a week later, he beat me up for it. That kid remembers everything.
Sighing, I stare at my dad, with an I.V. hooked up to his arm and whip away my tears. I know it may sound stupid but I wish I was in English class right now. Seeing Mr. Fuentes makes me happy, happier than it should. I try to ignore the feeling I get when I see him but it's always there, eating away at me. I close my eyes and let the silence clear my mind. After a few minutes, I pull out my phone and text Matty. He's probably wondering where I am. I tell him I'm sick and sigh sadly, wishing I could tell him the truth. I can't tell anyone about my dad.
Some days I feel so lonely, with only two friends whom I constantly lie to. I just wish I had someone to be honest with. I shake away my thoughts and frown, suddenly feeling very selfish. My dad's in the fucking hospital right now and I'm over here feeling sorry for myself. I can't think about my loneliness, Alex, Mr. Fuentes, cutting, school, or anything else right now. I just need to focus on him.
"Matty, I don't know what to do!" I quickly walk into the bathrooml and take out my razor. I run it over my fingers, the smooth metal tempting me. "I can't do this anymore," I say in exasperation.
"Kellin you can get through this. You always do," he says calmly. How does he manage to stay so calm in situations like this?
"I have the razor in my hand," I say feeling ashamed. He must think I'm so pathetic.
"Don't do it! You haven't cut in months, don't go back now," he says rapidly. Before I can even respond, he hangs up. I drop the blade and fall to my knees. Everything has been so difficult lately and my attraction to a fucking teacher isn't helping. I quickly walk out the bathroom and bump into someone, causing us to fall. I get up and offer my hand to the stranger.
"Here, let me help you." The boy ignores me and gets up by himself.
"I don't need your help, faggot!" My eyes finally catch sight of their face and I jump back. "Alex I-I didn't know it was you." He rolls his eyes and rips my bag away from me. "Let's see what you have in here," he says rummaging through my things.
"No!" I yell. I try to take the bag from him but his grip is too tight. He pulls out my notebook and starts flipping through the pages.
"Lyrics? These are pretty good," he says smiling.
"I might just use these songs for my band." I shake my head and kick him in the balls. He falls to the floor and I grab my notebook.
"You're dead Quinn!" I run out the library and down the street before he can catch up.
By the time I make it home, I'm out of breath. I've never ran so fast in my life. Why did I have to kick him? He's going to kill me tomorrow! Maybe I'll just skip school. No, then my dad would kill me. Either way, I'm screwed. I lay on the bed and think about my mom. I wish she was still here. If only I could hear her voice one more time. I'd do anything to see her loving face once again. I look at my wrist and sigh, running my fingers over the fading scars.
"I won't go back," I mutter over and over. Something tells me I won't be saying that for long.
*The next morning*
I'm awaken by the sounds of my father downstairs. I hear him cry out in pain and I race down the steps.
"Dad are you okay!" I scream out. My eyes widen and I gasp when I see him. He's laying on the floor clutching his chest. "I can't breathe!" He yells roughly. I quickly pull out my phone and dial 911.
I kneel down beside him and grab his hand.
"Don't worry dad, I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere until I know you're okay." He grips my hand and his breathe hitches.
"I'm sorry son," he says before his eyes close. I check his pulse and thankfully, he's still breathing. His breathing is very short and I start to fear for his life. What if he doesn't make it? The ambulance finally arrives and they put him on a stretcher. I ride to the hospital with them and sit in the waiting room. It's only been a few days since school started and so much has happened already. It seems like eternity until the doctors finally return, ready with news of my father's condition.
"How is he?" I ask fearful of the answer.
"Your father has severe alcohol poising. He's going to be fine but untreated alcohol poising can lead to irreversible brain damage, seizures, hypothermia, or in extreme cases, death. You'll need to help him get his drinking under control."
"I'll do whatever I can to help." I tell him quickly.
I walk into my father's hospital room and sit down beside him. He may have hurt me in the past but he's all I have left. I can't loose both of my parents. I won't let that happen. I'll do anything I can to help him beat this addiction. I look at the clock and read 11:26. I might as well stay here. There's no point in going to school now.
On the bright side, maybe Alex has forgotten about yesterday. Oh who am I kidding, he hasn't forgotten. I remember back in eleventh grade, I accidental tripped him and a week later, he beat me up for it. That kid remembers everything.
Sighing, I stare at my dad, with an I.V. hooked up to his arm and whip away my tears. I know it may sound stupid but I wish I was in English class right now. Seeing Mr. Fuentes makes me happy, happier than it should. I try to ignore the feeling I get when I see him but it's always there, eating away at me. I close my eyes and let the silence clear my mind. After a few minutes, I pull out my phone and text Matty. He's probably wondering where I am. I tell him I'm sick and sigh sadly, wishing I could tell him the truth. I can't tell anyone about my dad.
Some days I feel so lonely, with only two friends whom I constantly lie to. I just wish I had someone to be honest with. I shake away my thoughts and frown, suddenly feeling very selfish. My dad's in the fucking hospital right now and I'm over here feeling sorry for myself. I can't think about my loneliness, Alex, Mr. Fuentes, cutting, school, or anything else right now. I just need to focus on him.