Quiet As A Mouse (Outsiders Fanfic)

Chapter 18 - Save Me

Note to Readers: You should have a lot to say after you finish reading this chapter. Please comment and vote! However, I will give you fair warning that this chapter may contain a trigger for some people, specifically in regards to self harm.

After I was done with my shower, I got dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, because for some reason I was really warm. I might've been running a fever after getting jumped, and I wanted to go to bed although it was only about six at night. I turned the corner from the bathroom to head up the stairs only to be encountered by Kayla sitting on the bottom step.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked me.

I nodded.

"Two-Bit says you should eat something. Before mom comes home," she told me.

I exhaled a sigh, but then bobbed my head in acknowledgement and followed her into the kitchen.

My cousin who was the laziest guy you ever met had tried to make supper. It was sandwiches, and though he had tried, they still didn't turn out. One of them was severely smushed, as if he might have dropped it on the floor, and jelly and peanut butter were practically oozing out of the side. I was hungry, at least a little bit, but I'm not sure if I wanted to eat those...well, I guess I could be nice.

I finished only half my sandwich before scrawling on a notepad left on the kitchen table, 'I'm going to bed. Goodnight,' and retreating to my and Kayla's room.

I remembered to take some of the pills I was prescribed just yesterday, hoping they worked as well as they had last night, and climbed into bed. I was out in seconds, and I didn't even wake up when Aunt Kat came home or when Kayla came up for bed.

But that could have had something to do with the nightmares that plagued my subconscious the minute my eyelids drooped closed and sent me spiraling into a dark, hopeless, black terror.

I could see His face, picture perfect and clear in front of me, His expression one of pure happiness. At first it was happy memories, not a nightmare. Us laughing and playing with my grandpa, going swimming while my grandparents watched from the side, my parents kindly faces looking down on us, but then it turned treacherous. His smile turned to a look of agony, wet streaks from tears running down His cheeks, and I buried my face in His soft sweatshirt so I wouldn't have to see Him cry. When I looked up again, blood was running down His face. I backed away from His body in horror. His flesh was ripped in jagged shreds, bits of bone and other unidentifiable objects showing through. Limbs twisted at angles that couldn't even be achieved by a contortionist, white splinters of bone showing through the raw, bloody, red flesh that was supposed to be covering His body. One of His eyes was open, the other so disfigured it looked like a gaping maroon hole in His flesh. The one open eye was staring at me, the normally chocolatey brown pupil glazed over with a film of blood and lifelessness. I just started screaming, and I couldn't stop.

I jolted awake, upright in bed, sweat coating my body in a chilling sheen, tears leaking out of my eyes and rolling down my cheeks, dripping off my chin into my waist-long, almost-black, dark brown hair. And someone was still screaming. The voice was harsh and loud, and my throat was sore, and I had to get it to stop.

I had to get these nightmares to stop. The medicine was supposed to have worked. Why didn't it work? I leaped out of bed and grabbed for the bottle of pills on the night table, but tears blurred my vision and I knocked it off where it rattled when it hit the floor. I fell to my knees, groping around in the dark for it. My clammy fingers clasped around the hard, smooth object and I stumbled to my feet, needing to go downstairs.

The horrible screaming had been replaced by a high pitched whining in my ears that was coming from inside my head, but outside my head a different scared voice was mumbling something. I didn't know if it was mine or not, but I had to go downstairs.

I stumbled, losing my balance and nearly falling, but I kept going. One hand along the wall kept me anchored to even the slightest sense of reality, my other hand clutching the hard object that would get me out of this state of confusion. The floor dropped out from under me and then I was sprawled on it, but I scrambled to my feet, making sure I still had the only thing that would save me clutched in my hand. I pushed myself along, completely oblivious to the pain raging in my bones, my vision blurred around the edges as I went down a hallway that stretched on forever. Suddenly my hand wasn't on the hard wall anymore, and instead of hitting the soft length of fabric on the floor, my sweaty palm smacked cool smooth squares, gritty grooves separating one shape from the next. This is where I wanted to be.

I pulled myself up, using the...was it the door frame?...as leverage and then fumbling around for the light switch until I could see a blurry image of myself in front of me when the harsh glare hit my eyes.

Shaking with cold and for some other reason I couldn't identify, I looked at what was lying in my palm. It wasn't the bottle of pills, but this would save me, too, from all the thoughts raging in my mind that would never leave me alone, never go away. Never. Ever. Stop.

I took the black object and held it up in front of my face, gasping as it flashed open at a mere twitch of my finger. The shiny, thin, long, metal point split my image in half in the mirror. This could get rid of the nightmares.

Clutching it in my hand, I pressed the point into my skin. The soft, pale skin on the inside of my wrist, right over the faint blue line running through it.