A Match Made in Hell

51

My shoulder bumps against somebody else's in the hall, I turn my head to look.

It's Cassidy, leaving the place I was just about to go.

"Nicholas." She smiles kindly. "I just came back— uh—" she stutters, not knowing what to say. "Good luck for the both of you, hopefully you won't need it."

"Thanks." I say simply, walking out the door.

What would I say, anyway? There's not much to say.

I think I lost my ability to laugh, three weeks ago.

My ability to smile or laugh, to show any expression other than sadness or anger. I lost my ability to manage a conversation with somebody like a normal human being.

I'm overreacting, I kept trying to convince myself. There's nothing wrong with me, I'm just acting like this because I'm upset.

Wrong. I never changed. It wasn't a habit, it wasn't a small joke, there was something wrong with me. Something inside me just broke into millions of pieces that day.

I didn't sleep for over 100 hours, I didn't eat for more than a week. I didn't get out of my room for 10 days, I didn't talk to anybody for 5 days.

I was sitting in a corner the entire time. Sitting, crying, and thinking about what the fuck I had done that was so wrong, what I had done to drive so many people away from me.

And cutting myself. Sitting in a corner of the bathroom, not leaving my arm to rest for atleast 3 hours.

My hand healed soon, my right hand which I used to punch that mirror.

the room is still messed up, looking completely fucked. Small pieces of glass shattered all over the floor, there is blood on walls, the broken mirror still hasn't been fixed.

and I don't think I had showered in a week, before I got up today and showered just because I was going to see Karl.

I want to jump around and scream in joy, but I know this won't be such a great and exciting experience.

I don't think Karl would want to get back with me. He hates me now, though I'll never learn how to actually accept that, I have to respect his decision.

Honestly, I'm scared he will hit me again.

I'm scared it will turn into the same shithole, whatever the fuck it was that happened earlier this month.

I'm scared, he won't react well to what I have to say. I don't want him to hate me, he's so fucking precious to me and he knows that. Everybody knows that.

I sit in my car, doing absolutely nothing and just worrying about what will happen next.

I sit and think to myself, think about what will happen when we see each other again. I wonder if I will cry.

What kind of question is that, of course I'll cry.

Not that I want to, it's just how I am. I hate crying. I don't want to cry. Especially not now, not today. Not when we're discussing our entire future, not when my whole life is on the line.

I don't want to cry, not infront of him, especially. He doesn't deserve that, not after what I put him through. It's annoying to see somebody cry infront of you in general.

I pull a cigarette out of my pocket with my lighter, struggling to light it up in first place.

I start the car, letting out a deep sigh. Only if I could describe how much I hated doing this, and that I just wanted things to go back to normal.