Lacerations

Have you ever gazed upon something so ridiculously beautiful that your entire body shook with desire and envy, but not particularly in a selfish manner? Like you've just witnessed a meteor shower or had your breath stolen away by the sight of an inky sunset? If you have, then you'll believe me when I say that the first time I ever laid eyes on Vic was one of those rare moments. I specifically remember the feeling of rabid butterflies that in inhabited my stomach when he first smiled his brilliant smile at me. Diamonds couldn't compare to the delicate elegance of his grin, and all the while I couldn't help but smile back, he seemed to be happiness incarnated into a human. His entirety simply glowed with what seemed to be an unexplainable fire, one rapid and full of charismatic light. It was admirable and oh so perfectly crafted. It even seemed as though he was craved by the hands of a Greek God himself. Everything about him screamed 'perfect', from his short, skinny body to the long layers of his hair. My favourite of his features, though, was undoubtedly his eyes. Warm, mahogany orbs seemed to almost pierce right through my own, dull and blue. They lightened to a warm chestnut colour in the sunlight, sparkling in a way that no amount of glitter ever could. In the winter, however, or in the most private of moments, they darkened to an almost black, riddled with passion and longing. They were beautiful, to put it simply. But, with that beauty also came something very strange. Something you didn't see on most of the population. Alongside his eyes, there were tiny little slits painted in silvery-white.

Either side of his eyes were the most remarkable scars.

When we had first met at aged 14, I was obviously curious. But of course, being the gentleman that I am, I avoided the subject all together. I faintly recall that my mother said it was rude to ask about such personal things as asking could provoke something awful. I always heeded my mothers wise words but throughout he years the thought of asking never left my mind.
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It was only natural that Vic and I became an item over time. As you all know, I've always thought he was absolutely gorgeous, body and soul. Junior prom was when it happened, the night our fairytale officially began. A random declaration of my growing love, fueled by alcohol seemed to glue us together and it was perfect.. but, when we recklessly stumbled back to his house that evening, I remember the little spark of worry that erupted into my stomach. As we laid on the pillows, exhausted and fragile from the activities we'd just finished, I remember catching something. Much like the first time I met him, my eyes caught sight a sleek, silver light protruding from underneath his pillow just before I passed out.The image always stuck with me and now I kinda had an idea of what was wrong, why the scars were there. I'd googled it enough times.. and if it was that? Well, then it would had made him the strongest person I had ever known.

Despite the fact I'm the biggest wimp you'd ever come across, crying at mere sight of blood; I admired Vic. Never once did I have the displeasure of seeing him cry. Not that I would want to, of course, even though I'm sure those pretty eyes bloodshot would still be able to stun me.
But what made things worse through the thick of things, over the years the scars began to increase. I'm awhare now that I should have said something but I always deemed it too personal to ask. He'd tell me himself.. in time.
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The years, however, began to creep past and we'd just moved into our first house. Two fresh faced 21 year old kids with no knowledge of the real world, barely ready to take it on together, living in the prepaid house Vic's rich aunt brought us. She was always fond of me, as I was with her. She was a kind hearted woman, always fussing over Vic and myself. She sadly died shortly after the purchase of the house, which was an awful time for all of us. In theory though, I figured Vic didn't like her much. He didn't even shed a tear at her funeral.

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One day, though, something happened.

It was one of those mornings and we were having one of those 'lazy day's'. Despite his reluctance, I managed to convince him to watch Home Alone with me again and I took the time to snuggle up with him, pressing my head to his shoulder; breathing in his sent and smiling.

Then I did something I'd never done before.

I gently raised my hand up to him cheek and began to stroke with my thumb, the nail dangerously close to one of his lowest scars. He tensed as I slowly traced my fingertips over the risen skin.

"Kellin, wha-" he started but I silenced, my hands still stroking over his scars.

"Baby.. what are these?" I cut in quickly, afraid id lose my nerve. All the while I simply maintained eye contact, a small smile playing on my lips as I held him. I tried to push all the negative thoughts away as I saw his eyes flash with fear as his whole body froze and became rigid.

"What?"

"These," I said again, tracing the outline of one of his deepest cuts. I felt his body begin to shake so I just held him tighter to show him I was here, "You know full well what I mean." he shook his head and adverted his eyes downwards. He almost looked as if he was going to cry, but no tears reached the surface as he looked back up at me moments after

"They're nothing."

"But they're something," I interjected, causing his head to fall forward once more, "Vic, you know you can tell me anything. I love you, I'm not gonna judge you."

"I know Kellin, I do but.. I can't. I can't tell you." he looked over at me with sad eyes. In that moment, I felt a sudden anger pooling in the pit of my stomach and I lashed out, scoffing and throwing the duvet off of myself and Vic. I'd never acted like that around him, so it must have come as a shock.

I glared at him. "You know what? Fuck you! I've done everything for you, Vic! Everything and you still can't trust me? I thought I meant more to you than that!"

"I do! Kellin, just calm down-"

"No! I wont calm down! Do you know how hard this has been on me, Vic? Do you think I like seeing the man I love self harming?" His eyes went wide at my words, harsh and blunt but I was angry. He looked upon me with furrowed eyebrows and scoffed.

"Is that what you think?"

"Yes, Vic! What other conclusion would I come to?"

"Well, you're wrong. You have no idea."

"Then tell me!"

"I can't!"

"Fine!" tears pooled at the corners of my eyes, we never argued like this. This was something I always wanted to avoid with this man but right now it seemed as if there was no other way. To make matters worse, Vic just stood there, face looking blank and emotionless. "What is wrong with you? You're not even crying! Can you even cry? Are you capable of emotion? It's like I don't even know you anymore.." I trailed off as he stuck his hand out to calm me. I shrugged him off.

"Kellin, please."

"No, Vic. No. You know what? Fuck this, fuck all of this! I'm done." I yelled, climbing up the stairs to our room. I grabbed one of the bags we used for camping and began to pack away a few of my things. Not that there was much there, really so it didn't take long.

"Kellin, what are you doing?"

"I need to get away. Far away. Im gonna go stay with Mike for a while."

"Baby, please don't do this."

"Then tell me whats wrong." the room was silent as we starred at each other, barely a breath could be heard. After awhile his eyes adverted downwards as he shook his head, still no sign of tears unlike myself. "Fine. Well then, I guess whatever this is, is over."

I went back into the living room to grab my phone, Home Alone still playing on the television. As I turned to walk out the door, I heard a small murmur.

"Kellin, wait!" I paused, and looked at Vic, face neutral as always. "I'm sorry. You're right." I raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"What?"

"Its deliberate.." his voice was horse.

"You don't mean..?" I asked yet again, my voice falling into barely a whisper as I processed what he seemed to be admitting.

He dismissed it though and shook his head slightly, a weak smile playing on his lips. "It's nothing.. I-I love you Kells. Please don't leave, I-I can't cope without you."

I took a deep breath, forcing the tears in my eyes to stop."It's too late. Jesse will probably be over in a few weeks to get the rest of my things. This has broken me Vic, you've broken me." and I left without a word.
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Now, what I'm about to tell you may be a bit confusing, but try and keep up. The next morning I got a call from my friend Jaime's house, telling me to come to the hospital. Instantly I knew something bad had happened and my head naturally screamed 'Vic'. Jesse had to force me to get changed and let him drive me there because apparently I was in no state to drive. I didn't even know what had happened, but by Jaime's tone it couldn't have been good. Hell, when is a trip to the hospital all piss and giggles? Nevertheless, we reached the hospital in record time, arriving 15 minutes later.

I can't say the sight before me put me at ease.

Mr & Mrs. Fuentes sat in the waiting room, Mrs Fuentes was clutching at her husband and sobbing into his shoulder. The look on his face wasn't anything cheery either, but you could tell he was trying to keep it together for his wife. In front of them sat a police officer, a pen and note book in his hand as he looked at the Hispanic couple in sympathy. The whole scene was horribly distressing but the one thing that troubled me the most was what she was saying- whimpering out loud.

'Not again, this can't happen, not again, not again...'

That was when I ran up to a police officer, catching Mr. Fuentes off guard and demanding they tell me what happened. Where was Vic, where was MY Victor, the boy I'd loved since I was 14, my soul mate. Something had happened and despite our argument, I needed him. I needed to know he was okay.

The officer asked for ID but Mr Fuentes quickly assured them that we were together and they proceeded to tell me what happened and the news made my heart sink and break into a million pieces. I couldn't breath and to make matters worse Mrs Fuentes must had just noticed I was there. She lunged for me, kicking and screaming while be resigned by her husband 'YOU. This is YOUR fault. YOU took MY Victor, and now they're both gone..'
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Approximately 5 minutes after I left the house, Vic calmly walked to the kitchen and grabbed one of our stake knifes. The doctors then believe that he walked to our bathroom, grabbing some soap and lathering it onto his face. He then took the knife, made small lacerations from his temples, around the bottom of his eyes until he reached his nose. He then proceeded to cut long strips down his cheeks, completely deforming his face and ripping out chunks of skin.

Blood droplets acting like tears, the soap providing the stinging pain that the doctors said was probably settling to him. He then took out the cellphone I brought him last Christmas and smiled, clicking on the camera option and smiling as he took a photo of his demolished face in the mirror. He simply named the photo 'I can cry after all' and the experts say that shortly after that he took the blade a slit his throat.

He died on our bathroom floor that night. Alone.

It was all my fault.

The police report says that at the age of 10, Vic's younger brother Mike had committed suicide and since then Vic had been in a deep state of depression. His emotional pain developed far past the point of tears, where he no longer could cry. Mrs. Fuentes also stated that she caught him cutting the sides of his face whenever he felt like crying, it made him feel normal. She told him to stop, but he didn't and she never noticed.. no one ever noticed apparently. Except for me. I was the only one that cared enough apparently. I could have saved my angel from returning to heaven so soon, but I didn't.

I really wish I never lashed out that morning because karma back lashed me hard. All those things I said, I should have been more understanding but and I wasn't and now? Now, I haven't seen a single tear droplet in years.