Guilty Conscience

It's the Lady of Sorrows Who Taunts us

A lot has happened over the month and ten days that have passed.

I got beat up for the millionth time within that first month.

I relapsed too.

On a happier note, I've been to Gerard's multiple times, and even got to play with his hair.

My point being, my life has been the same it always has, except for the Gerard thing. And my mother getting sober, for God knows how long.

Doesn't mean I still don't think about the day Gerard stops talking to me. Or the day I'll come home to a drunk mom. Or a dead mom, whichever comes first. I know something bad will happen, either to me or someone I care about. Or maybe ill be the one doing the damage. I guess we will see.

I wasn't looking forward to this week, though. Yeah, there was the sleepover at the end of the week with Gerard, but I had to get through the school part itself.

I got dressed and made sure everything that I needed was in my backpack. I had on a long-sleeved Korn shirt with some ratty jeans and black, high top converse. Of course I had to add some spice, so I put on some black eyeliner and slight dark makeup. The purpose of this was to make people afraid. I want them to fear me so that I don't have to talk to them. Obviously, Gerard missed the hint. There's also that fun little fact that I killed someone, but that's normal.

Mom had left for work, which was a good sign, seeing as I didn't see any booze anywhere. I really hope that she would stay sober forever.

The thing is, we've gone through this process numerous times. She'll quit drinking because she sees the effect it has on me, be sober for a couple weeks or months, then she will start up again because she remembers what happened that night. It's a cycle that I really wish would break.

She has never hit me or anything, but I don't fully believe that it won't happen.

I get to school after a little bit, and walk through the doors. Immediately, I'm shoved into a locker.

"Hey, punk. What's up?" Ray had me up against the red and black metal, and something was stabbing my back.

"Hey, afro dude." I spat out.

"The fuck you call me?"

"Well, you have an afro and I'm assuming you're a dude seeing as you are homophobic so you must be transphobic. Honestly, I'm surprised other people don't call you-" I was cut off by being shoved further into the locker. It wasn't comfy to say the least.

"You can stop with that name, you ass."

"I would rather call you afro dude than Ray, Ray."

"You know my name?"

"It's not hard you prick. You're plastered all over the school with all these sports and such you do."

"Walk away before I kill you."

"Please do."

"Maybe I will."

"Go ahead."

I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Nothing came. He dropped me from the locker and walked away, scoffing. I wonder why he didn't do it, I even would've helped him by giving him my knife that I keep in my front pocket.

"Fuck you too, afro dude." I rubbed the spot on my back that had been stabbed, then turned around to see what had punctured the skin. It was a damn nail. And as he had continued to lift me against the locker, it had ripped more skin. It felt like a good 3 inch long cut, and it felt deep. I headed to the bathroom, I guess I'll be missing a couple classes.