Status: in progress

Stomachaches

You've Made A Mess Again

I woke up in cradled in the arms of my love, watching as he stared down at me with tears tumbling down both of his cheeks. We stared at each other for a few seconds, determining whether or not this was a dream. We both finally decided that it was a reality, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he leans down to press kiss lips to mine for a brief second.

"What happened?" I mumble quietly, staring down at my reddened arms. I remember taking a bath, but I highly doubt that I would have gone insane in the bath, right? There was no way I did this to myself; no way I tried to melt my flesh. I tear my eyes away from Alex, finding that we were the only two in the room.

"You fell asleep in a scalding bath, Jack." Alex says, turning my head with the tips of his fingers. I was looking back at him now, noticing the guilt in his eyes. "You could have drowned."

I shake my head. "No," I tell him, pulling my way out of his arms. I stand up in front of him, crossing my arms over my chest. "There's no way that this was your fault... I'm a fucking lunatic, Alex! What was I thinking?" I sigh, walking over to his dresser. I pull open the top drawer, taking out a pair of boxers, since mine were pretty much soaked. I look up at Alex and ask him to turn around.

He raises his eyebrows in skepticism. "You've gotta be kidding me. Jack, are you serious?" I nod, yes I was fucking serious. He huffs. "No. Your body is mine to look at, and Princess, nothing about your appearance could change the way I feel about you."

"Unfortunately there's a lot more to my body since the last time you've seen it." I reply awkwardly, walking toward the bathroom, boxers in hand. I closed the door behind me as I glanced at the bathtub for a moment, examining the strands of my hair that lay in the bottom. I tear my gaze away, and pull down my boxers, revealing the hundreds of new white lines that I had etched into the sensitive skin of my thighs. Some of them still had a pink tinge to them, signaling that they weren't all the way healed. I remember when these first happened.

It was the day after I found a drunken Alex sleeping with another man in our shared bed. I had never felt so much pain in my entire life. Not even when the football team used to beat me to a pulp after school. This was much worse. The one person who had changed my view on the world, the one man who had made me feel undeniably happy everyday since the day he asked me out, was now the one fueling the fire of self destruction. Although, I'd never blame my self harm habits on him. Not only because he wasn't the one holding the razor blade, but because I'm not a normal person. I don't know how to settle my emotions, and for some odd reason, the slashes in my skin did. It had been that way ever since eighth grade. I took all of my bad emotions out on my own body. Whether it be with a blade, hammer, or my own two fists, as long as I felt pain, I felt better. And to this very day, to this exact moment in time and space, I still have the desire to tear into my flesh every single day.

The thing about self harm is, once you start, there's no way of escaping it. At least, that was true for me. No matter how happy, or excited I was, there's always that tiny voice in the back of my head telling me to just sneak into the bathroom. That nobody would notice if I came out with a couple scrapes. But that voice was wrong. Soon enough, you will always find that one special person who will soon come to notice the scratches on your arms, no matter how big or small they may be. They will notice the fact that you try to hide it with sleeves in the summer, or too many bracelets to count. They will delve into your business, exposing your dirty little secret. And they will try to fix you. At least, that's what happened with Alex and I. But our story was different.

I stared down at my legs for a moment before tugging my drenched boxers off, and tossing them into the hamper in the corner of the room. I then began to pull one of my legs through the hole of the boxers. Then, the door swings open, Alex walking in with a shocked look on his face.

I'm speechless as I pull my other leg through the hole, and pull my boxers up my legs. I stand up, noticing the fact that he hadn't taken his eyes off of me yet. They remained glued to my own eyes, staring into them in concentration. "Uh, what's up?" I ask awkwardly, resting my hand on the granite counter next to me, ignoring the fact that he'd just walked in on me changing.

His expression changes from confused, to his original goofy self before motioning for me to follow him back into the bedroom. I do so, running a hand through my hair as I reenter the bedroom, finding Alex sitting down on his bed. I cautiously walk over to him, sitting down beside him before laying down, and staring at the blink-182 poster nailed to the ceiling. He lays down beside me, the both of our legs hanging off the bed. But we didn't care.

"How are you doing?" He asks quietly, his fingers slowly intertwining with my own. I take a deep breath and think for a moment. How was I doing? I was alright, I guess? Well, now I was much better considering the fact that Alex was lying next to me.

"I'm decent." I shrug uncertainly. I turned my head to look at him, finding that his eyes were already burning into mine. I can't help but smile, and he does the same as he wraps his arms around me. Before I know it, I'm being pulled on top of him, my face resting in the crook of his neck as his chest rises and falls.

"What do you wanna do today?" He questions, his hands running up and down my spine. That was one thing I liked about being with Alex. He always, always, always had to be touching me in one way or another. It was like he had withdrawal issues, and I wasn't complaining. He always knew the right places to touch me, and all the right things to say. Maybe I was blinded by love, or maybe Alex truly is perfect.

"Maybe we can go upstairs and hang out with the guys? I feel bad for worrying them today." I utter out awkwardly, feeling my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"If that's what you want, then we'll do it." He states mater of factly. "But they know you're okay, and everything."

"Oh," I reply quietly, closing my eyes. "I think I might actually go look at apartments."

Alex's breath hitches in his chest as his body tenses, his grip on my hand becoming tighter. "You weren't serious about moving out," He asks nervously. "Were you?"

I sigh and sit up, allowing his hand to remain in my own. "I can't keep relying on you guys to keep fixing me. I'm twenty two, now. I should know how to handle myself by now." Alex sits up along with me, pulling his hand out of mine and crossing his arms over his chest.

"But that's the thing, Jack. You can't take care of yourself. Don't you realize that you're mentally ill?" He snaps all of a sudden, causing me to jump at his sudden outburst. We sit in silence for a few moments, allowing his words to sink in. Just as he's about to open his mouth, I stand up.

"Fuck you." I mutter before heading for the stairs, ignoring him calling my name. I continued up the stairs, increasing my pace once I had realized that he was following me. He was fucking following me. I wasn't even angry at him. I was just hurt, and stung, and needed time to myself. Apparently Alex didn't get that. I closed the basement door behind me, and had half of a mind to turn the lock and trap him down there, but then I decided that I would just have to beat him to my room, and lock myself inside.

With that thought being processed, I broke out into a sprint through the kitchen and down the hallway, ignoring the other's questions and speeding up the stairs. I pushed open the door to my room, as Alex's footsteps could be heard making their way quickly up the stairs. Just as he reached the top, I closed the door, turning the lock, and sulking down onto the floor. Alex's fist hits my door, in a failed attempt to get in.

"Jack, please. You know it didn't mean it!" He says through the door, his voice pleading with me. "I just don't want you to leave?" Yeah? Well he sure has a funny way of fucking showing it. "Please just come out, babe. I just want what's best for you."

After a few seconds of silence, there are more voices and footsteps outside of my room. Rian. I remain silent as I stand up, deciding that I couldn't listen to that. I couldn't listen to his desperate pleas, I couldn't listen to them begging for me to come out, because if I kept listening, I would do exactly as they wanted. And frankly, I didn't want to. I needed to be alone, with my thoughts, and my demons. I was going to confront them tonight.

I pull Alex's boxers down my legs and toss them onto the floor, deciding that I needed to get dressed in clothes that would actually fit me. I tugged on a pair of my own black boxers, followed by black skinny jeans and my favorite pair of Vans. I decided that a shirt would probably be nice, so I just slid on a random Ramones one. Glancing at the wind shaking the leaves on the tree outside my bedroom window, I figured it must be chilly, so I pulled on a black hoodie, too. And a maroon beanie, because why not. Tucking my cigarettes, phone and lighter into my back pocket, I opened my bedroom window as quietly as I could. I could hear the guys still talking to me through the door, but I had stopped listening long ago.

I stepped out onto the nearest tree branch before closing my window. I bit my lip, questioning myself whether or not I wanted to do this. Of course I did. It was only noon or so, and I had all day to myself. Who's to stop me? I carefully made my way down the tree, noticing that Zack wasn't home, because his car wasn't in the driveway. So that means that Rian and Austin are most likely still at my door. I chuckled to myself and made my way down the empty street, ignoring the vibrating of my phone in my pocket.