𝕭𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝕲𝖎𝖗𝖑 - 𝕿𝖔𝖒 𝕶𝖆𝖚𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖟

The Real Reason

I wake up to the same sound I always hear in the mornings, the banging on the metal door to this hell. I gradually open my eyes, Riley is still fast asleep acrossed the white room. I bring myself up, feeling my weight as gravity tries its best to pull me to the core I wish I was really in, burning away and never to be remembered in.

Today was the day, today is the check up. With the same doctors I always somewhat liked, he was cool. Just cool. I stand, the cold tile floor burns my feet but at the same time it feels good, reminding me I'm still there. But why? I look out the tiny window through the thick layers of glass, admiring the crummy city outside of it.

It's been a year since I've even breathed the air outside this crumbly shitshow. My puffy sweats and hoodie from this place isn't anything special. The hoodie strings have been removed, the holes closed shut with sewn strings that barely hold out because mine have been so used. My sweatpants don't have strings either, it's an elastic band hundreds of layers underneath the cloth.

I run my finger along the crack in the bricks until I reach his door. I tap twice, my usual alert of my appearance. The door opens with a harsh tug, I take three steps back with this.
"Charlie! You're still alive, girl!"
Ghost's gold caps over certain teeth shine at me as he smiles.

He offers me his dark hand to which I'm hesitant to take and eventually don't. I sit down on the same white bed, the crinkly parchment paper beneath me. I gaze around at the same old containers of long Q-Tips and cottonballs in glass jars with small rectangle labels over them. The little first aid kit mounted on the wall next to the clear latex gloves, the silver dull sink and the small machines that to this day I refuse to know.

The tall yet slim white cabinet full of bandages and ointment if needed, yet not one blade in the room. Soaps and hand sanitizer.
"Do you need another someone in here with ya?"
He asks this to all of us, us corrupt women. I shake my head, he gives me a proud smile.

"No you don't, you're a tough girl aren't you?"
He nudges my shoulder, but I show no reaction. He is immune to my nuetral behavior. He begins to take off the bandages, I force myself to look only at Ghost's face, not my thighs, not my arms, not me. I physcially cannot look at my own body, it sickens me on wash days.

He puts the ointment over my wounds, to which look as thought they've just been made. But it's been longer than a few months, a year and they still look fresh. Bunny says They'll take a long time to heal, just be aware Charlie. I am aware. I am fully aware. I do not care anymore, but I do, but I don't. Ghost pats my arm, allowing me to leave but for a moment I don't.

I stay planted on the parchment paper bed. Then I get up, and leave. This place has been the same forever, so I know what's next. I walk into the open room with school-like benches, all grey and white. Just like everything else here. The girls all start to flood in tiredly, Cat's hair rustled, Kate has her clothes bunched up in an unattractive manner.

Blue looks like she could slam her head in the wall, which frankly I could too but I don't. I just draw, with my small pencil I'm provided, and a thin peice of paper. Honestly, caregiver here that I really give two fucks about is ghost. He cares, and maybe my only friend is Blue. Or Riley? Or Blue? Or nobody? I sigh, looking down at my papers. I am known for never talking. I'm called Silent Sam. My name is not Sam.

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Tonight I lay awake, thinking. It isn't something I usually do, but at the same time, it's all I do. Sometimes I mix my thoughts with reality. I ponder about if I'll ever be loved. Blue once told me Nobody's ever gonna love us, freaks. We're just another pebble in the dirt. And I believe her, I think she's right. Nobody will ever love my scars, how would?