Lead Me Out of the Dark

Suffering en Silencio

SKYE'S POV

I felt guilty, because when John had left, I’d felt relieved. He had hugged me while the cop had fired question after question at me. John had offered me empty condolences. When Deck hugged me, he always knew exactly how to make me feel better, because he knew what feeling low felt like. John understood it to a degree, but he couldn’t really understand. I’d skipped school that day, partially because the cop had informed me that they had taken my truck yesterday. It would be in evidence lockup for a week. My cliff was also taped off, and Linda was out of the house. Deck was also gone. He had probably gone to school, forgetting that I was stranded at home. So I’d cried myself to sleep.

Several days had passed, and I’d fallen into a routine. I would stay home, because I didn’t have the nerve to ask Deck for a ride to school. Linda was busy working during school hours, so she had no idea that I was staying home. I stayed holed up in my room. Deck went somewhere every morning and came back every day around six. I wasn’t sure if he was going to school and then hanging out with friends afterwards, or if he was skipping school entirely. What if he was hooking up with girls? Would Deck do that kind of thing? The thought made me sick to my stomach.  

I hadn’t spoken to Deck in a long time, mostly because I slept all day and stayed up all night. I couldn’t bring myself to go back to school. School was a desolate place, where I’d be all alone. Whenever I thought about returning I got this huge knot of anxiety in my chest. I’d decided that I just wouldn’t think about it. Out of sight, out of mind.

                Everything changed drastically on Tuesday afternoon. I was scheduled to get my truck back on Wednesday, so I’d decided I would change it up for the day. I would stay up in the day, like normal people, and sleep at night. I was home alone when I heard a banging noise coming from upstairs. I’d crept up the stairs quietly, being careful not to make any noise. If it was a burglar, I didn’t want to surprise them until just the right moment. I identified the noise as coming from the bathroom. I frowned. What would a burglar be doing in the bathroom? I lingered just before the door and yanked it open.

Deck was inside, searching inside of the medicine cabinet. He’d made a mess of the room. There were things thrown all over. When he saw me, he winced guiltily.

“Deck, what the Hell are you doing?” I asked. Deck grimaced when I spoke. He hastily pulled his sleeves down. His eyes were rimmed with red. His hair was a disaster, and the bathroom stank of vomit. It was then that I realized he had a hangover. I knew exactly what that felt like: your vision was pulsing blackly, so you couldn’t see what you were looking for. You ended up throwing everything everywhere. I sighed, sitting him down on the toilet.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. My eyes flitted to his face. Had he been crying or screaming? I knew that those were the only two ways to get your voice that hoarse. I prayed that he hadn’t been having sex. That would be one way to explain his hoarse voice. I shoved those thoughts out of my mind. I began cleaning up the bathroom. I turned off the lights and opened up the window a crack. It was a trick John had taught me. The lights were much too bright, enough so that it made headaches ten times worse. The window let in enough gentle light so that you could see. Deck relaxed slightly in the darkness.

Once I’d cleaned up, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Deck kept pulling his sleeves down. What would he want to hide on his wrists? A stamp he’d gotten from going to a club? Did he have a hickey or love bites? The answer hit me like a baseball bat to the head. He’d been cutting himself. I felt sick immediately. I took the first aid kit out of the cabinet and tried to pull up his sleeves.

“Get the fuck away from me!” He hissed. He winced at the loudness of his own voice, and he was barely speaking in a whispered tone. This time, I recognized exactly what he was doing. He was pushing me away. He didn’t want me to see him in this state, where he was so low that it hurt. Where he felt like he was all alone. I just shook my head, not wanting to aggravate his migraine any further. I took a small pill cup and filled it with water, handing him an Advil and the cup.