BURN (Wattys2015?)

hannah

I was standing outside Kroger, smoking a cigarette. What was it, my third? I had just filled out an application.
I knew they wouldn't hire me.
Same as everywhere else I applied to.
They all gave me that look. The one with pity and a little bit of disgust.
I saw you from across the parking lot. Did you get a new car, Hannah? I didn't recognize it. You looked good. Did you do something new with your hair?
You didn't recognize me at first. You glanced over me, the same way everyone else does. The type of glance that goes right through you, like you're not even there.
I squash my cigarette on the cracked pavement, wondering what I was doing in this part of town.
Then you do a double take.
You say my name. It's so tender, so tender. Makes me pause.
Next thing I know, I'm in the passenger seat of your car, and we're driving to God knows where.
You ask me if I got your call. Yes, I did. I got it at the best and worst time. I heard your voicemail and it stopped me from doing something that would hurt everyone.
"I haven't seen you since Thanksgiving..." You say, your voice breaking a little. Your knuckles are white and tightly wrung around the steering wheel. "Missed you at Christmas. And my birthday. And you didn't...you didn't call on Mother's day."
You start to cry a little. I turn my head away, my body shrinking in my seat.
Then you tighten your mask. Ah, there's the cold socialite I know so well. You taught me how to fake it to make it.
"You just look so different. Still a strong, handsome young man. But you just look..."
I stare at you, apathy leaking from every pore. You don't continue the thought. I know what you were going to say, though. I look harder. Sadder. Gaunt. Broken.
It's what they all say.
You ask me how I'm doing. I shrug.
You ask me if I found a girlfriend. I shrug.
You ask me if I have a place to say. I look away.
"Where have you been staying?" You ask, a little shocked.
"With friends."
"I'd invite you to stay with me...but Steve...I don't know if he'd..."
I freeze. Crap, I forgot about him.
"Is he there?" 
You shake your head, saying something about a business trip. You seem a little nervous talking about him, and you tug on your ear. I know that tick, Hannah. I know what that means. Is he hurting you?
I think back to that time after a big fight, you were shaking and sobbing in the kitchen. I hated the way he treated you. I saw him hurt you. I got so mad, so mad. I flew at him, and broke his nose. You were so mad at me for that. I don't know why. I just wanted to protect you. I begged you to let me take you somewhere safe, Steve begged you to stay, and you begged me to go. So go I went. And we all know what happened after that.
I feel so relieved, I relax a little into the plush leather seat.
We ride in silence, all the way to your house.
We're in the kitchen now. I'm sitting at the corner, my arms wrapped around myself.
The house feels the same, but looks a little different. It's more Steveish than Hannahish.
"Have you been...taking your medication?" You venture to ask. That's too far, Hannah, too far. You realize the mistake as I bristle, and you try to cover your tracks. "Dylan told me you started medication again. He also said he hasn't seen you in a while. Make a point to visit him okay? Or just...I don't know. Call him."
I nod. I can't call him, Hannah. He knows me too well. He'll notice.
I scratch at my side. My wound itches. I should out some of that infection cream on it.
My long sleeves slide up slightly,  and you're eyes go where your eyes don't need to go.
You grab my arm and force the rest of my sleeve up, all the way up past the crook of my elbow. I could pull away, but for some reason I don't.
You run your hand along the marks on my forearm and wrist all the way to the pinpoints on the inside of my elbow.
You mask clatters to the ground, and tour heart sinks with it.
I'm sorry, Hannah. I truly am.
You sigh my name, ask me what I'm on. I tell you, and you flinch because it's the 'bad stuff'. You assure me that you're there for me, and that you can get me the help I need.
You start to cry, and I hate watching you fall apart in front of me.
I just shake my head no over and over, telling you not to worry, I'm alright.
I start to cry, too. and I hate myself for it because I'm a grown man but I hate watching you cry even more.
"I'm okay," I repeat. "I'm okay."
You tell me its okay to not be okay, because you know I'm not okay.
You wrap your arms around me, and I hug you back, tight. You don't realize just how much I've misses you and needed you.
We melt into each other, repeating that we're sorry. I tell you what's really going on, what I don't tell anyone else.
"Oh, my baby boy," you whisper. "I'm so sorry. I love you, my son. I love you."
You don't know how much I wanted to hear that.
"Mom...Momma..Momma, I've missed you."