You're Not Alone

Sometimes Quiet is Violent

(Jen's POV)

"Happy birthday, beautiful." Mason's voice said through my phone.

I scoffed. "How can you say that? I haven't showered in days and I'm wearing a batman onesie. My eyes are puffy and bloodshot. I don't even wanna think about my hair. How am I beautiful?"

Mason sighed. "You're beautiful because you're still alive. I doubt most girls in your position would've lived to see 15 years old. It doesn't matter what you look like. You are beautiful. You are smart. You are funny. You are kind. You are unique. You are worthy of love and affection. You are never too much and you are always enough. You are precious. You are a diamond, a rose, a pearl. The most stunning thing I've ever laid my eyes on. You are worth more than you could ever imagine. Worth more than the numbers on the scale, or the hair product you use, or the shoes you wear. More than the price tags on your clothes, or the percentage at the top of your math test, or even the number of followers you have on Twitter. Your worth surpasses everything because, Jen, you are loved. And you are worth dying for."

Talking to Mason gave me such an overwhelming, indescribable peace. The past few days seemed like a blur and they left me in a state of anxiety and unease. But Mason was there through it all.

I heard the opening of a door on the other end of the line. "I have to go. My little sister has a dance recital and she'll kill me if I miss it." Mason said with a sense of urgency in his voice.

I was confused. Mason never mentioned having a little sister. But I shook it off. You're just being paranoid, Jen. It's nothing.

"Alright. I love you." I said cheekily.

"See ya." He said. I thought it was odd that he hadn't said it back. You're just paranoid.

I heard the phone being tossed on the bed. Mason must've assume he'd hung up and didn't. I was about to hang up the phone myself, when I heard a voice.

A girl's voice.

"Who was that?" She said.

"No one. Just a friend from school." Mason responded.

What?

"Well, I hope you're not cheating on me." The girl said, trying to be seductive. It didn't work.

"Sahalia, babe, I would never cheat on you. You're the one I love."

At this moment, any normal girl would've burst into tears and starting cursing at the boy and the girl he was cheating on her with.

But that wasn't me.

I got angry.

I listened as Mason have Sahalia the same speech he gave me about 2 minutes ago. Then, they started making out. I could hear it. I hung up the phone once I heard the sound of Sahalia unzipping Mason's jeans.

The feeling was thick in my chest and in my stomach. I could feel the heat in the front of my face. I clenched my knuckles.

The first punch went towards the wall. It crumbled under my knuckles. My fist stung, but the pain was satisfying. There was a crater in the wall and I kept punching the same spot. My knuckles were starting to split but I kept at it. White hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

I turned and looked in my long mirror behind my closed door. My hair was in knotted clumps that hung awkwardly in front of my face. The scars on my cheek and neck were visible, mere white lines and faint changes in pigment.

I swung my fist at that mirror as hard as I could and watched my reflection shatter. My knuckles were stinging and I watched as blood poured down my fist and arm and dripped off of my elbow.

The door burst open and Phil barreled through the door frame.

"What happened?" He asked, gazing at the shards of the broken mirror on the floor, the craters in the wall, and my bleeding hand.

I breathed in and out heavily, fighting a sob. "Boys suck."

Sorry, not sorry. Things got too boring and I had to shake it up a bit.

In honor of their new album, the chapter song is Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots.

Love you!

-Gracie