Lonely, Drunk and Beautiful

I go home angry, and trash my room.
After I yank the mattress from the bed and shatter the mirror, I realise that I’m completely drained of all energy.
I open both windows and strip to my boxers, collapsing down and kicking the covers away. The frosty bite of the December air rapidly infiltrates the room, and begins to eat away at me, disguised by the looming darkness, and gives me a rush of pure, blissful oblivion.
I feel claws numb my fingertips and toes as my magnetic warmth finally attracts the raging cold and invades my body.
The cold is like a shock of water, tributaries trickling through my tibias and shooting sadistically through my spine, ricocheting rancorously round my ribs. My core temperature plummets; the ice deadens my extremities within the hour and sneaks upwards, snapping it's snout and snarling. Freezing teeth sink into the fleshy parts of my thighs, but the backlash eats the muscle in my forearms, like the sting of a scorpion's tail.
By half six in the morning, I've lost the majority of feeling in my entire body.
I spent the night staring at the ceiling with wide brown eyes, praying to God that the cold would creep up my neck and freeze the furiously fluttering thoughts there.
It never does, however, and I just lie there, counting seconds on my restless fingers and taking account of each new numbness.
At 1:34, I can no longer feel anything below my elbows and knees.
During 2-2:30, the shivers begin to nauseate me.
By 3:45, nothing below the shoulders or hips.
After 4:07, I sit up and shine my phone's torch on my toes with some difficulty, finding them to be blue.
At 4:39, my heart rate begins to slow.
And reaching 5:54, I honestly believe I'll never be able to move again if I stay here for even three minutes longer.
A scary smile curves my lips up as I drag myself up with shaking legs and flick on the light, before looking down.
My feet are completely blue. My knees are tinged purple. My fingers are blue, and wrists and elbows purple. Everywhere else is pure white.
I lumber to the shower and crank the knob so that, by my estimation, the temperature will be around 42°C.

The water is pure liquid lava. Every molten drop makes my extremities scream out in agony. Every nerve is begging me to get out, or at least add some cold into the mix, but I just lie there, curled up under the faucet with my face under my arm so I inhale minimal spray.
My body is trembling insanely, and hot tears are being added to the mix as they escape from my eyes. I’m finding it difficult to breathe properly, thanks to the unsatisfactory position I'm currently in and the scalding heat being thundered mainly on my ribcage and spraying pain everywhere else. I can't see, but I know if I could, everywhere would be a frenzy of bright red. My heart, in contrast to a few hours before, is going at least three beats per second.
I want to move, I really do, but the sharp pains I'm feeling are masked by a rush of bright exhilaration.
I feel alive.

_____________________________

I finally climb out of the shower after twenty minutes of slowly subsiding agony, when everything is scarlet and I can feel and move again. I run a towel over my flushed skin with a blank face, and walk into my room completely naked, looking for clothes.
I realise I can't be bothered a few minutes later, and pull on sweats and a purple hoodie, towel-drying my hair. I stare in a mirror for a minute and dip my fingers in some gel, running my fingers through my hair until it's partially presentable and sighing.
I smirk a little then, going over to my drawer and digging through underwear until my hands reach a crinkling bag.
I seize it and unwrap the cellophane, opening the tiny seals and tipping some green out into my hand, one-handedly putting the little bag back where I found it.
With that, I go to my windowsill and pull out papers, rolling two joints with ease, regardless of my still-trembling fingers.
I go downstairs, gently unlock and prise open the door, sneak into the front yard, and light up.

_____________________________

A bottle of spray and a paranoid bus ride later, I’m back in this hellhole.
I can’t help the grin forming on my face as I wander through the cafeteria, watching the silent student body stare at me warily.
I reach an empty table and hunch down in it, playing with a loose thread on my sleeve and laughing under my breath at the whispers hurling around the room.
"Is that a smile I see, kitten?"
I whip round at the mocking sentence. Seeing no one, I turn back with confusion, and start.
Alex has somehow managed to slide into the seat next to me, unnoticed, and he’s leant forward, smirking.
I flip the honey-haired boy off, and Alex grabs my hand.
My eyes widen, and I swallow. Alex is examining my hand with a slight frown on his perfect features, rolling up my sleeve.
Shocks course through me at every touch pressed into my throbbing skin, adrenaline racing through my veins.
I want to kiss Alex right now, and the buzz messing up my brain certainly isn't helping.
Luckily, I'm a master of self-restraint and manage to stop myself from actually doing anything.
My entire body is frozen into place as I watch Alex, leant over his chair and turning my arm over, examining every detail.
He finally looks up when he realises how much I’m shaking.
"Your eyes are red, kitten. Have you been smoking pot or crying?" he murmurs, leaning closer.
I swallow again, drowning in honey-glaze eyes which have darkened from masked concern.
"I'm fine.” I murmur, and Alex shoots me a sad smile.
"Don't lie to me, kitten, because your skin is pretty goddamn burned." Alex replies, his voice smooth but laced with worry.
"So I took a hot shower.” I mutter.
"It must've been pretty hot to hurt you like this. Either that, or you were pretty cold. It was a cold night last night."
With every word, Alex leans in, until I can identify every single hue of golden in his flecked irises.
I need to lie, but no words are coming to mind.
Alex is so close, I can feel every warm exhale from his perfect lips.
"Come on kitten. Tell me what's going on." Alex murmurs.
"Looks like you think you've already figured it out, so why should I?" I reply softly.
"Are you admitting that I'm right?" Alex frowned.
"Now why on earth would I do that?” I ask, plastering on a smirk.
"Quit with the cockiness. I know it's an act."
Alex's voice is almost a growl, and my eyebrows shoot up, locking in his gaze again.
"The bell's going to go soon. But you will tell me, Jack Barakat. Don't you worry."
Alex is playing with the zip on my hoodie, pulling it down just enough so he can see the exposed skin underneath.
"Looks like you forgot to put a shirt on today, kitten. Here, have mine."
My mouth falls open as Alex pulls off his Blink shirt and I get an eyeful of slightly protruding hips, a toned stomach and a scattering of hair, before the undershirt he's wearing drops down and the shirt is thrown into my face.
"See you around, kitten." Alex murmurs in my ear, and leaves the room just as the bell goes.
“Kitten?”
I’m staring disbelievingly at the door Alex has just left through, his shirt on my lap.
People are pouring out of the exits, trudging to homeroom, but I stay in place. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure my legs will hold me.
“Dude, how haven’t you punched him yet?”
Ariel slides into the seat next to me, smirking.
“I don’t know.” I say deliriously, and he hits my shoulder.
“Oh my god, you fancy him!” she squeals.
“Fuck off, no I don’t.” I say hotly, and she dissolves into laughter.
“Ariel, shut the fuck up.” I growl, and she shuts her mouth, aside from the mocking grin still twitching her mouth.
“You’re cute when you’re mad.” she giggles, and I throw the chair aside, punching the wall behind her. My hand goes clean through the plaster and cuts my knuckles.
“Do not call me cute.” I say slowly, annunciating every word. I can feel the fury burning in my eyes.
She bites her lip, and I stalk away.