I'll Make You Feel Beautiful Once Again

For the whole drive home, I tried to keep my tears hidden, but fuck, I was so irritated with myself. I wasn’t even mad at Kellin... I was pissed off by the way I acted. When I pulled into Kellin’s driveway at around 9:30, he turned to look at me with his sad, diamond blue eyes. “Vic,” he whispered. I brought my head up from its hanging position to meet him, my bottom lip quivering and my eyes burning with the tears that threatened to spill. “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable... I thought you wanted me to do that.”

I shook my head slowly, biting my bottom lip furiously so I wouldn’t let out a sob of some sort. “It’s okay,” I finally said quietly.

“Here,” he mumbled, shoving his cassettes tapes in my hands. “I want you to keep those since I don’t really use them anymore.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, looking down at his gifts and trying to ignore his stare. Kellin sat there in the passenger seat for a few seconds, just staring at me sadly. It seemed as if he wanted to say something to me, since he was opening his mouth then closing it over and over again. Then I watched him climb out of my car and drag himself up the stairs. I sighed, shoving the cassettes in the glove box and pressing my forehead against the steering wheel. “God, I’m such a fuckup,” I cried, the tears finally spilling down my cheeks. I sobbed and choked in my car, trying to get the air into my lungs but failing. With blurry eyes, I pulled out of Kellin’s driveway and wove through the twists and turns of the streets. My knuckles turned white from the strong grip I had on the wheel, and I had to keep blinking the tears away so I could see. Yanking the key out of the ignition, I stumbled out of my car after I made it to my house.

I used the back door, which was always open, and hiccuped all the way to Mike and I’s bedroom. Of course, my parents were already in bed, probably tired of waiting up for me. As I slipped into our bedroom, Mike was passed out on his bed, his legs sprawled out and his Harry Potter book lying on his rising chest. I sniffled, watching my innocent brother before slipping into the bathroom. I fumbled around with the contents in the drawers before finding it. The box of Band-Aids. No one would ever think to look there... the two items went against each other.

I fished around the box, shoving aside the slips of paper with my breathing catching in my throat and tears falling down my cheeks and trailing along my neck. Grimacing, I found the little piece of metal, my sobs getting louder as I sunk to the floor weakly. I yanked my shirt over my head swiftly and threw it across the room. I scanned my arms and chest, taking in the marks and scattered lines that littered my skin. I silently cursed myself for pushing Kellin away. I didn’t exactly know what he would do when he saw them if he had taken off my shirt in the car. I didn’t even wait to see his reaction because I was too ashamed of myself. I made myself ugly. I put this on myself. It has been about 11 days since my last rendezvous with the blade; minor progress already being thrown away.

**Trigger warning. Skip through a couple paragraphs if you don’t want to read it, love

A breathy sigh escaped my lips as I dug the sharp blade through my skin, opening healing wounds and creating new ones. Blood drained from my veins, and euphoria settled in between the cracks of the tiled floor. Tears blurred my vision as I felt the old familiar stinging change to numbness as I sobbed and choked and scarred.

Why couldn’t I be beautiful for Kellin?

3...5...8

Why did I have to push the past away?

9...12...15

Why do I have to screw everything up?

16...19...23

Why do I push everyone away?

24...31...42...

Why? Why? Why?

42...54...59

What was I so afraid of?

60

I sat there with my butt on the cold tile for a good ten minutes, not even bothering to tend to the evacuating blood on my arms and stomach. I was pathetic...

My eyes fluttered open when I heard the door creak and moan, revealing Mike in the doorway with bloodshot eyes. “Vicky?” He whispered.

I stared right back, ashamed and embarrassed that my own brother had to find me fighting for breath on the bathroom floor. Ashamed and embarrassed that he had to find me contemplating on life of death. In fear and faith.

Leaning my head back on the cabinet behind me, I let out a spine-tingling sob, silently letting Mike know that I needed him to help me out. I needed him to fix me.

“C’mere, Vic,” he whispered into my ear after quickly approaching me. He cradled me in his arms and lifted me onto the countertop and cupped my cheeks in his big hands. “It’s okay hermano,” he said, brushing away the tears with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, okay? Don’t cry, I’ll fix you up.”

Mike leaned down and grabbed the bleach and paper towel from under the sink, then grabbed an old towel and told me to hold it to my wounds as he cleaned up the floor. After he did that, the smell of bleach lingered in the air and he was reaching behind me to grab something from the cabinet disguised as a mirror. “No, no, no... please Mike, no,” I cried, shaking my head and squirming away from him as he set the hydrogen peroxide on the granite.
“No, please! Fuck, that stuff hurts, Mikey,” I cried.

“Vic,” he sighed, leaning in close, smelling of cigarettes and some girl’s perfume. “It’s for your own good... it’ll make it feel better, I promise.”

“No! No it won’t,” I sobbed, scooting away from him. He set down the bottle and placed his hands on my shoulders, his strong grip holding me down.

“Vic, you did this to yourself,” he accused. “You’re gunna have to go through some pain to get to happiness.”

I stared into my brother’s brown eyes, which were bloodshot either from no sleep or worry. His lips were formed into a tight line and his bleached hair was spiked and matted against his head. I hung my head as Mike carefully held onto my wrist and let it hover over the sink. I placed my hands on his arms and dug my nails into his skin. I buried my head into the crook of his neck and let out a tiny scream as he poured the hydrogen peroxide onto the cuts. Mike cooed into my ear as the chemical did its job: putting me through fucking pain. The clear liquid turned white as it bubbled and burned under my skin. Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks and onto Mike’s shirt. “You’re doin’ good, Vic. It’s almost over,” he told me quietly, his voice cracking when I cried out in pain.

He moved onto the other arm then to my stomach, the whole time whispering soothing words to keep my calm. By the time we were finished and I had thick wrappings of gauze around my wounds, Mike had streaks of red welts up and down his arms, from me of course. He told me to brush my teeth, and I did as he sat on the countertop, staring at his bare feet. I spit and rinsed my mouth and the sink from any remaining toothpaste foam. My eyes met Mike’s and I just shook my head. Ashamed and embarrassed.

“What... what made you do it?” He wondered sadly.

Sniffling, a rubbed my cheeks and winced from the throbbing in my arms. “Well... I was with Kellin, you know from Connections, and we were on Make Out Hill.” I saw Mike’s eyes widen slightly in my peripheral vision; but ignoring it, I continued. “We were just listening to music, I mean, no harm there. But then... but then he kissed me and don’t get me wrong, I loved it. I wanted him to kiss me... it’s just that I didn’t expect him to try to take off my shirt, you know? I didn’t want him to see all of... this,” I whispered, gesturing to my scars. “I didn’t want him to see how ugly I was...”

“Vic, you’re not ugly.”

“Maybe, but underneath my clothes I still am.”
Seconds that seemed to last for hours passed until Mike beckoned me over to him.

“How long would it have been?” Mike asked me as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and squeezed me softly. I pressed my cheek to his chest and searched for his heartbeat.

“Eleven,” I whispered, my voice raspy from all the sobbing.

“Try to make it twelve this time, Vicky,” he said. I nodded solemnly as my bottom lip quivered and I fought back the tears. “I love you, bro... you know that right?”

“I love you, too, Mike.”

He then let go of me, grabbed the single blade from the floor, and flushed it down the toilet.