Under My Skin

Waking up the next morning, I fight with myself to get out of bed. Finally, I decide to sit up, looking around my destroyed room. I sigh, swinging my feet over the edge onto the cold wood floors. My shoulders slump as a thick fog settles in my mind, making getting up seem even more undesirable than before.

Forcing myself to stand, I drag my feet over to the closet. Every movement is a difficult task. I feel as though my extremities weigh a hundred pounds each. Reaching the closet, I stare blankly at the clothes that are so neatly hung up, organized by shirts, pants, jackets, etc. I scoff at the orderliness that is such a contrast to my life at this point. Suddenly, I have an urge to mess it up, to destroy the order, to rip everything apart. Shaking my head, I just grab a part of black sweatpants, a t-shirt, and hoodie.

Standing under shower, letting the hot water run over my face, I think about the previous night. Luckily, when I came in the house, my parents were both asleep on the couch in the living room. Becoming conflicted, I can’t decide if I am irritated that they weren't worried enough to stay up or if I am relieved I avoided another confrontation. I shrug, settling on the latter. Then, I think of the other troublesome aspect of last night. I know I will have to face everything at school today. I know I will see her somewhere, and this time I will really notice her unlike before.

Suddenly, if feels like my stomach does a flip and I think for just a moment I will throw up the breakfast I ate minutes before. Feeling light-headed, I put a hand on the shower wall for support. I don’t know where to go from here.

Should I talk to her? I ask myself. Turning the water off, I laugh out loud.

What the hell makes you think she wants to talk to you? She hates you! And, if I may remind you, for good reason. It doesn't matter if you thank her for saving your life. Would you really mean it anyway? Plus, you couldn't do it without stammering and tripping all over your words while your friends point and stare at you.

Friends… You still want to call them that huh?

Of course, they’re the only people I’ve known as friends.

Yeah, but you know that’s not what they are. Come on, you’ve got to know that by now! Or maybe you have even less common sense than I originally thought.

Yeah, but then again maybe I never had common sense.

Or a brain. Clearly. I shouldn’t have overestimated your intelligence. It just leads to disappointment.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m having a full-fledged conversation with myself.

My father pushes the door shut as I’m about to walk out, snapping me out of my trance. I look up at him and can’t decide if its concern, anger, or hurt that I see in his eyes. Maybe it’s all of the above. Regardless of what I see, I stare at him with no emotion on my face. I feel empty, like there is a void in my emotions where my consideration and respect for him used to be.

“And just where the hell were you las-“ I interrupt him with a shooing gesture and pushing his hand off the door.

Walking out the door, I say in a sarcastically cheery voice, “Oh, you know, just trying to end my miserable existence with you people. That’s all.”

I don’t even look back, but I imagine the shocked expression on my father’s face and I feel mildly satisfied. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I get behind the wheel of my truck and pull out of the driveway.

At school, one of my ‘friends’, Garret, has a thousand questions for me. Apparently my parents had tried to reach him after I didn't come back home in a couple hours.

Like they actually care or something, I think, rolling my eyes as I brush off another one of Garret’s questions, real touching.

“Come on bro! At least tell me where you were. You know you can trust me with that much.”
I scoff at him, shrugging off the hand he places on my shoulder, “Don’t worry about it Garret. Like I’ve already said a hundred times, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You were with Tina weren't you?”

Tina: my ex-girlfriend whom I broke up with three weeks ago because I found out she cheated one me… With Garret as well as the entirety of the basketball team. I shudder as Garret punches my shoulder in an unwanted congratulatory gesture.

I snap, turning to face him, “And why would you think it appropriate to be congratulating me if you really think I went over to that fucking slut’s house? Is it really cool in that fucked up brain of yours – if you have one that is – to have fucked the girlfriend of someone who is supposed to be your friend? ‘Cause if you ask me that doesn't show that you’re cool or that I should be proud we fucked the same girl. What it does show me, Garret, is that I’m fucking lousy at picking the people I choose to call my friends and that I suck at finding a girl who can keep her damn legs closed!”

I don’t realize that, the longer I talk, the louder I get and the closer to Garret’s face I inch. By the time I’m finished chewing him out, the entire hall of students is staring at the two of us. A couple even have their cellphones out. My entire body is shaking and my mind is hazy with rage as I turn and walk away, leaving Garret with a gaping mouth and hurt pride. In a fit of anger, I punch one of the lockers, leaving a decent sized dent. I don’t realize that the metal cut through my skin or that blood drips down my fingers onto the floor. I don’t know where I’m going, but at the end of the hall I push through the doors, feeling the brisk autumn air whip around me.

I sit down on the stairs and hang my head between my knees, intertwining my fingers in my hair and pulling. The confusing begins to seep through the wall of anger that is so prominent in my mind. I don’t know who I am anymore, much less who I want to be. I do not lift it when I hear someone take a seat next to me. I want to scream at them, to tell them to fuck off and mind their own business, but my jaw is clenched, holding back more than just words. It isn't until I hear her speak that a single muscle in my body begins to relax.

“You hate it don’t you?” Curiosity rings in the soft, musical tone of her voice. Coming along like a gentle breeze blowing over a house of cards, her voice is the last push my crumbling wall could take. I hunch over further, letting my arms fall limp between my knees. Sobs rack my entire body, making me feel weak and exposed.