the girl who knows

002

two.

The summer air was hot and humid, sweaty clothes clinging to the mindless bodies of the people around. JJ Maybank didn't mind the heat, nor did he mind living in a world where he felt as though he was the only one alive. He didn't even feel alive half of the time, but the girl in the forest changed that. And apart from her, only one other thing could make him feel.

So, he sat in the dingy bathroom inside a random corner store he had found while walking monotonously around the streets of the cut. He had a corkscrew in one hand and a roll of bandages, courtesy of his cousin, in the other. The rough material of the bandage felt comforting in his hand, it fit into the grooves of his skin like it was made to be there. The corkscrew felt familiar, like seeing the sun on a new day. Familiar but not comforting. Not many things felt comforting to the boy.

His eyes travelled between the two objects as if contemplating whether or not he should do it. He breathed out a heavy sigh before putting down the bandages and flipping the corkscrew's spiral out of its coverage. The dimmed lights gleamed in the reflection of the twisting metal, taunting him with their shadows. JJ Maybank wasn't afraid of the shadows. You can't be afraid of things you can't see. The words chant inside his head like the pounding beat at a nightclub. The mantra was more reliable than the moon coming out at night. And like the star-crossed lovers they are, once the moon had finished its lavish show the sun would take her place as the star. By now the sun had made its way from the invisible void behind the horizon into the hazy sky above the outer banks.

JJ's mind was brought back to the corkscrew when the lights flickered, urging him to use them while they still provided scattered light. The lonely boy took the corkscrew in his hands and drew a harsh line down his inner thigh, the only place that would be covered in the summer. At first, the corkscrew only caused a chalky white line to appear on his soft skin, but then the floods came. Red blood trickled out, being released by the sharp metal that liked to draw patterns across his almost empty canvas. The relief came with the pain. Well, more like the relief was the pain. You deserve this, JJ told himself, just like he always did.

He imagined his past beatings and neglections leaving his memory through the red slashes he was painting across his skin. An array of thin white lines as a basis for his new addition to the artwork that presented itself on his upper thigh. As you can tell, it wasn't his first time cutting. It started in seventh grade, just after his dad had been particularly talkative during the usual physical abuse. Blaming it all on him, blaming everything on him.

13 year old JJ sat in the bathroom of his crappy house. Silently letting the hot tears flow down his beaten face. He watched as they fell in the dirty mirror that had been cracked by his father not too long ago. And there it was. An old corkscrew that his father used to use. JJ couldn't explain it, but it felt like he had to get all the feelings out. After all, he deserved it, didn't he?

He gently picked up the corkscrew and examined its cracks and flaws. He drew his thumb along the point at the end of the metal spiral. It was blunter than he would've liked. But at that moment he would've used anything. The young boy let his mind wander to the minutes before, the words he had grown so used to hearing flowing through his mind.

Worthless. One slash. All he did was cause trouble for his dad. All he ever did was make everyone's life harder. Whether it be John B, who had to be his best friend after so many years of friendship. Or Big John, who felt obligated to feed the boy and let him stay at his house when JJ was avoiding his dad, seeking refuge could easily be disguised as the childish want to sleep over. Whoever it was, he just caused trouble for. He was worthless. If it wasn't true, then why would his father, the man who helped create him, say it?