Caged Birds Don't Like to Sing

I was really stressed out the whole night. And into the next day. I wanted to scream, I wanted to leave, I wanted to cry, and I wanted to apologize again. But neither of those went through. Except for the crying thing. I bawled like a baby as I sat in my room. Even by myself, I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed for being on this whirlwind of emotions. I felt guilty about lying to Jackson and keeping up with the lie. And I was probably having a delayed reaction to what had happened with Chase now that I had time to think about it.

I sneaked downstairs and fetched Jackson’s cigarettes. On my way back into my room, I peeked into the bathroom. Mascara was running down my cheeks. I looked like a panda. Probably from wiping my eyes so much. All because of stupid Jackson. A stupid boy made me cry. After Chase, I said I would never do that again. But had Jackson proved me wrong.

Before I went back into my room, I looked down the hall. Jackson’s room door was still shut. Thinking about him made me angry and depressed at the same time. I sighed and turned around.

When I was back in my room, I lit one of the cigarettes up. I knew Jackson didn’t really like smoking in the house that often. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurtt him. As long as I opened a window. I tossed the box and it skidded under my dresser. I didn’t want to make it some kind of habit. I’d only have one for tonight. Just to ease my stress and pain.

I sniffled pathetically as I took a drag. When I blew it out my voice hiccupped with the tears and ache in my burning throat. I always hated crying. It always hurt. Physically and mentally. It made me feel weak, like I was a child again. I rarely cried. But lately it had seemed like a routine.

Weren’t relationships suppose to be great by this point? I mean, I know Jackson and I’ve had it rough since, well, the first day I got here. This wasn’t really an average relationship. But we said ‘I love you.’ I thought it meant something. I thought at least for a few days it would be smooth sailing. Maybe that was why I said it, to trick myself that everything would be good. Did I love him? Maybe I had just forgotten the meaning of love now.

I had to have some feelings for him. At least the tiniest bit. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be crying in my room right now. I betrayed my own rule and turned into a gigantic hypocrite. This time I knew I had disappointed him. And that was what made it worse.

Also the fact that I didn’t tell him the whole story. That Chase was an abuser. That he was the one who came last night. Jackson knew Chase was my first kiss. But he didn’t know that I wasn’t a virgin and it was Chase. Well, scratch that. I found out the other night that it was all one big joke and my shame was the punchline. So I guess I didn’t lie to Jackson about that.

Jackson was just blowing this all out of proportion. I didn’t almost die. It was just a cut. Even though it seemed like it during the time. The cut wasn’t too deep, even though it bled a lot. The worse I could have died from was that mixed with the head wound. But I was positive I was fine. Jackson just overreacting to the lie and to the whole thing.

I groaned out loud. This was just getting to be an awful situation. To make matters worse, the wedding was a few days away. It seemed to creep up on me quicker and quicker. My parents wanted to make it as soon as possible. I guess they wanted to get out of their situation with Jackson’s parents.

I opened up the window to get some air circulation. After one cigarette, I craved another. I know this is bad, but I crawled back around and got the box. I went back on the window ledge and sat. The ledge was a thick board coming from the wall with the window in front of it.

Eventually I went back into the bathroom again. It was late that night. I was bored out of my mind. I knew the bathroom wasn’t very exciting, but I just wanted to get out of my room. I still hated the scent of cigarette smoke. I left the window wide open so the air could clean itself out.

Once I closed the door behind me, I pulled my shirt over my head. The cut was still red around the edges. I trickled my fingers over it. It stung, but I ignored it. I knew it would scar. It would match my other one almost perfectly.

My other scar was across my right ribcage. It wasn’t gross or stitched up or something. It just was a pale and flat scar, smaller than the new one. Chase caused that one, too. It was at the peak of his abusive behavior. A month before we split. He was being too pushy again and got to frivolous with a knife.

“C’mon, sweetie,” Chase purred insensitively. Each of his steps towards me were slow and with power.

I backed away from him. “No, Chase. You know how I feel about this.” I held my hands up defensively. It didn’t help.

He pushed me roughly against the wall of his bedroom with one hand. The other pet the side of my face. His extremely hot breath was blowing on my neck. I turned my face as his hands ran down my stomach. His fingers latched around the rim of my jeans. I wiggled his hands off, but I couldn’t get him to let go of me. He weighed a lot more than me.

“Please,” I mumbled. “You just need to calm down.”

“You need to calm down,” he stated back, unamused. He drew out a pocket knife that he always kept with him. I took deep breaths to try to focus my mind. The room spun and I was frightened for my life. I felt like I was about to pass out.

His hands started to rip at my shirt. I could feel his cold fingertips on my skin as he tried to pry the cloth off. struggled free and made a mad dash for the door. He caught up to me and pounced at me. He straddled my hips and smugly stared down at me.

“If you won’t let me take off your shirt,” he said wickedly. He held the knife firmly in his left hand. “I will just have to cut it off of you.”

“I’ll scream,” I threatened, knowing that at least someone in his family would hear and try to figure out what was going on. Not everyone in his family had to be cold-blooded villains.

His face lowered to mine. His lips right by my ear. “Scream. I dare you.” After he said that, I couldn’t even let out a yelp/

He was going to cut straight down the middle of my shirt. He had the material tugged up so he wouldn’t have to cut me. He wasn’t going to feel bad if he did cut me. Which he did. But not down the middle. The slicing of the shirt wasn’t as neat as he had intended. It was jagged with a lot of brute force. The knife dug into my ribcage.

I cried louder and flailed around even more. He chuckled evilly at pain. My knee ended up hitting him where it hurts. He moaned and rolled off. Without any hesitation, I ran off and home. I had my chance to escape and I took full use of it.

Cringing at the memory, another tear ran down my cheek and off my chin. I picked up my shirt and tugged it back over my head. I felt sick to my stomach at this point, so I walked off back into my room.

I plopped onto the bed and covered up quickly. The room smelt fresh again and I didn’t want to smoke for a while. Or ever again. The room’s air was crisp with the coolness of outside and the smell of Winter nearing. I loved it so much I didn’t want to close the window. Winter has always been my favorite season. Growing up, I always wanted to be married in Winter. At least that dream is getting fulfilled. I doubt they’ll be much snow on the ground, though.

I curled my arms up in the blankets and tucked them under my chin. I lightly wiped the old makeup off my eyes. It left a black print on the blanket, but I didn’t care. It just made my eyes burn anyway. So why keep it on any longer?

I wondered what Jackson was thinking at this moment. If he felt the pain I felt, or if he still didn’t care and was still furious at me. I didn’t want him to feel that way. I didn’t mean to hurt him like that. I just wanted to forget it happened. Forget everything happened. I thought when I moved out here I would be doing that. But my past keeps catching up with me. I just wanted to ignore it and pretend like it never happened. But Jackson wanted to know about it. It killed me to not be able to talk about it. At the same time, it’d kill me to talk about it. I wish I could just make out those words. But words can’t express the way I felt those agonizing nights. Talking about it made me ill. Even thinking about it did that. And I was scarred permanently with the memories. The one across my stomach just made another reminder of it.

How I longed for Jackson to just walk into my room and tell me everything was okay. That’s all I could ask for right now. Someone to reassure me. That’s all I needed.

I knew it wouldn’t happen. Jackson wouldn’t come in my room at any second. I came to the conclusion that he’s probably still fuming. It’d take a few days, at the least, before he would want to see me. Or I’d have to go in there first. I didn’t want to do that just yet. If he was still mad, I didn’t want to cause another fight. But I didn’t want to drag it out longer than it should be. I couldn’t wait, we didn’t have that time. The wedding’s under a week away.

Worrying like crazy, I ran my fingers through my hair. Just make this end already.