The Corruption Of Our Souls

XVII

Nate looks down to his phone to see another message from Jonah Silverstein. 'I'll get it' I say grabbing his phone from his lap.

What the hell are you doing over in Phoenix?

I quickly reply.

What 'mate'?

From: Jonah

I grew up in Phoenix so he was my mate growing up.

'He grew up in Phoenix, his mate when he was growing up was the one who noticed you'

Nates eyes were locked on the sunburnt roads which lay ahead. 'How old is Jonah?'

'Last year of college, the one above us... So 18 because he was one of the eldest in his year'

'Can you write him a text?'

'Sure, what?'

'Ash him if his supposed mate was the same age'

Without question I type.

Oh, was he the same age?

From: Jonah

Na, year above

'He was in the year above Jonah' I say plainly, simply to inform Nate. Why is this even relevant information, what was Nate planning to do, beat him up for seeing him?

Nate took a few minutes before responding. 'Sounds about right'

'What?' I snap.

'Nothing' His tone goes blunt, like a conversation ender.

How can he just make me tell him all this to then not tell me what's going on?

The rest of the journey is completely silent with the odd cough or sneeze every so often until the silence drifts back hollowing out any happiness which was previously in this car.

After 6 hours of driving, we finally arrive in an area I recognise. Santa Monica.

He pulls up outside my house and I step out without saying a word.

'Sav, wait'

'Wait for what, just tell me'

'No'

I feel my insides boil. 'Fuck. You.'  His mood instantly changes turning into concern.

I turn and slam the door before sliding onto the floor on the other side. 'Hello?' I call out, echoing around the house. Everyone must be out. I remember being home alone the urges I used to get. I was convinced that the world was against me.

I used to unscrew the blade from the pencil sharpener, smuggle liquor from my father's cabinet, and starve myself until I could barely stand up. I was determined to take everything away from myself, and strip down all of my walls until one day, there was nothing left of me.

And that was all I ever wanted. To be nothing to anyone or anything, until eventually I slipped away.

The dreams I used to have leaving me breathless when I woke up. It was always me who stepped in front of the train, or jumped off the building. I only feared that day when I will not be able to stop myself form doing what I do in my dreams when I'm awake.

I no longer looked to sleep as an escape from the world, it only entered me into a more dangerous petrifying world, like a hell that confined me for what seemed like an eternity. There was no sanctity from what was happening to me.

Sometimes I would take 1 or 2 more pills than prescribed, to blur everything, knock all my knowledge away, but the downfall afterwards left me feeling worse than I started.