Between the Lines

Twenty-four - Oliver

I wake up coughing but quickly curl up and bury my face into my pillow to suppress the sound. It's not long before the immense pain of hunger starts to spiral up in my stomach, starting as a small spark in the lowest pit of my stomach before it burns bigger and bigger to corrupt my while body with dizzying pain.

After coughing blood, I decided to stop taking stop taking any form of medication, just as an insurance. Although that meant I couldn't stay awake, even if I tried. Fighting to stay awake became even more exhausting than just giving in. I sculled water to try and put at least something in my stomach so I would stop vomiting stomach acid, now i just pray that the blood is from irritation. For a week and two days I've been stuck in my room, without sufficient food, without help, without anything but me and my disgusting suicidal thoughts. All I can do is drop in and out of feverish sleep and no one is going to know.

The last time I woke up was just before 11 AM, and Mum was already drowning herself in alcohol. I can imagine most of the money for the fortnightly bills has already been wasted in her attempt to drown all the problems I cause. It helps me, unlike you, she would usually say. Maybe she's right, ive never wanted to help her a day in my life. Im not sure many people would want to help someone who only hurts those around them. I know i cause problems, thats been made obvious since the day i was born. Nothing i am to her is enough, the only thing she liked about having a baby was the attention. Even today, I'm still causing issues. I've probably caused enough stress for Calvin. He probably hates me at this point, as soon as we get comfortable, i run away, never to be seen again. The only way ge will see me again is if they put my picture on the TV when the news covers my murder. And Dad... he will have to go through all of that. I run my hands through my hair letting out a long sigh, suppressing the tears that threaten to spill down my face. And to think I've been sitting here whining and not trying to help any of this. Maybe if I hadn't given in for so long, I might have been able to get out.

The fact I'm talking about this like its unavoidable is the scariest bit. My body is corrupted by pain and my mind is corrupted by darkness. A hellish and sickening combination and just what I need.

I hear mum drop a glass, shortly followed by very loud cursing. That's not the first glass I've heard her break, there's going to be a real mess for... well... crime scene cleaners? There's more swearing and what sounds like her pushing something. She's a lot madder today. She probably got fired from her job considering she's taken multiple shifts off and come home hours earlier than she's meant to for the past week. Not to mention the boss is sick of her and would jump at the chance to ditch her. Even though Mum couldn't care enough about working to hold a stable job she always takes getting fired very personally, which is pretty pathetic.

She then proceeds to slam the door to her room, and the quiet comes retreating back.

The slight breeze flowing through my window chills me to the bone, even though my head feels like it's burning. Now that my Mum's gone, I might be able to run a bath. I'm scared to even turn the taps on or flush the toilet just because of her. I know that if i had to face her, i wouldnt come out on top, not anymore. The only thing I trust my mum will stay committed to is the threats she's thrown at me, so there's no doubt that as soon as I make a noise, she'll be there. But right now, she's on the opposite side of the house, so I'll take a risk.

I carefully make my way to the bathroom and over to the bath. I put the plug in the drain then turn the tap on fully, only on cold so i can try to shake the fever. The water slowly builds in the bath.

I hang over the basin while I wait for the bath to fill. I can't even recognise my reflection anymore. It's too skinny, too sick, too tired. I can't bare it. I don't want to go through this, no one would. I look along my arms, noting how much slimmer they are, following all of the cuts and bruises all the way up to my shoulders. I pull my shirt off. My ribs stick out even further than they used to. My skin is pale and discoloured and flaking in several places. My hair is so disgusting and messy, everything is.