SAME DAY, SAME TIME: LATE OCT, 2014
• M A L I K •
A deep sigh escaped my mouth as I lay in bed.
The lights were all off. I just buried myself under my covers, staring at my phone aimlessly scrolling, and looking at bullshit. Nothing that really mattered. I was just tryna distract myself even though it wasn't working.
The past few days I've just been at my place with the girls.
I put up a front for them. Act like I'm okay to the best of my abilities. To my family too, but I can tell my Ladybug knows something's up. My sister too.
Madison asked me where Tre was yesterday, and I almost started crying.
I try to be honest with her at all times because I feel like she's owed that, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her that. I don't want her to see me as that. Not her. That would be my final straw. I'd have no reason left to keep going.
I try not to cry, but I can't help it.
I've been trying to avoid it, but it's impossible.
Just trying to put my mind elsewhere, I've done a million things, but it never works. I'd go over and help my sister or my mom with stuff. I went to Mike and Sarah's house offering to do work.
But, I always end up back in my bed, the light off buried underneath the covers. My eyes burned from crying.
Or in the bathroom, late at night, in the shower trying to scrub the nonexistent blood off of me.
I got it all off that day, but I keep scrubbing.
I keep seeing myself covered in it.
I see his face. Begging for his life. I remember not feeling a thing for him—I still don't. I don't know if that's bad or good.
I just wish I didn't have to do it. I wish I didn't have to bathe myself in blood to save him. I wish I didn't have to lose a piece of my soul.
I wish he wasn't there the most. I wish he didn't see me like that.
I wish he hadn't had to see my true self.
I've tried real hard this past year, and a little while I was in prison to bury that part of me, but I failed.
And he saw.
I just keep imagining his face. The look he gave me. A look filled with fear and horror.
Or how he jumped when I tried to touch him.
I didn't want to do that shit.
I don't like doing that shit.
But—I had to.
Even though I feel like my heart is being crushed, brought back, and crushed again,
I'd rather feel this than feel again what I felt before.
I can't lose him.
I had to save him. I had to.
It just sucks.
I feel as if I lost him, even though I know he's alive and well.
That's the only thing that keeps me from going insane.
That fact that he's still here.
I just have to bear the weight. I'll do it. I always have.
I'd carry the sun on my back if it meant saving him.
