A Walk Down Ivy Laine

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Written around one o'clock in the morning in the aftermath.

If only rain could stifle my pain. Catchy, no? There are no more spiders in my attic, only Willy. He won't play.

I feel dirty. But what I've discovered is that no matter how many showers you take, or how rough you scrub, your skin can't peel off. The scars and wounds will still show and your insides will remain rotten. The only thing that seems to be constant is pain. Sleeping-pain. Crying-pain. Breathing-pain. Just putting on a a sock-pain. Right now it's hungry-pain.

Five buttermilk Eggo waffles and another very long hot shower later, i'm somewhat fully awake, less anorexic and somewhat rejuvenated. If that's even appropriate. It takes forever to pull on a night shirt and shorts. The sun is gone by the time I make it outside. Fresh air probably isn't going to help UN-cloud my muddled mind, but it's a welcome distraction. Besides the bedroom reeks still. There isn't any wind tonight, so I'm stuck sleeping in feces particles again. No scented candles either. Serves me right. Willy doesn't want to come down with me funny enough, but then again it's late. He deserves to steal my pillow after what I've put him through.

The vines rustle slightly as I pull them aside, stepping down the first step on to the landing-

I freeze.

My heart jolts happily. Unhappily. Painfully. It doesn't know what to feel, except horrible, thrumming in my ears like a battering ram.

Tucker's surprised eyes meet mine, only about ten steps down. 

This is bad. Very, very bad.

I back up as he advances a step, into the dark of the vines. There's no air left in my lungs, but I manage a ragged, "Don't!"

He stills. I can't read his face, a silhouette against the moon. We're at an awkward standstill and i'm glad it's dark because my sleep shorts are not going to hide anything, if you catch my meaning.

"Are you okay?" He finally tries.

A sharp little stab of pain resonates as a snake clenches my heart, but I press it aside, trying to still it, "I'm f-fine."

"You're lying." He's angry. I can hear it in his voice. This is a new side of him I've never seen.

It doesn't feel like my lips say it, but, "you should leave me alone." I turn around to go back into the yard.

I hear him move behind me. The stairs creaking angrily.

Faster than I think possible in my condition, I make it across the lawn, up the back steps and into the house, slamming the screen door shut and simultaneously locking it just in time. My insides and outsides ache from the exertion.

"Ivy," he pleads through the screen window. It bubbles to the shape of his face, "talk to me."

My insides clench miserably, wanting to give in, but this isn't his problem. I shouldn't be a problem for his perfect life. I'm not worth it. Sobs begin to take hold and rack through me as my knees begin to give out. Slowly I sink to the floor, cradling the door. Tucker is so kind, so perfect. How could he allow me to treat him like this and still want to stick around? What did I do to deserve so good of friend in a world of bad?

Tucker is earnest now, testing the handle, "Unlock it, please. Let me in."

I don't want him to see me like this. This pathetic weak thing. I never want him to see me again, now that he's seen me like this. "P-please just go..." He can't know what my uncle did to me.

The door rattles, "You're killing me. Please."

I stay put, wiping at my eyes. I can hear Willy upstairs, scratching against the latch.

"Ivy," Tucker tries again, "Please let me in. Whatever it is, I'm here. You don't have to go through it alone."

The emotions running through me are overwhelming, but I can't take any more pain coming or going. Hurting Tucker will kill me, never mind him. I can't do this, not right now. Everything hurts and mentally I'm dying. Doesn't he see that?! "Just go!" I snap, lurching to my feet.

Too fast, my brain screams at me. 

A blinding pain laces up by abdomen. The stitches rip open like a zipper. Down I go, a heaping mess of screams and limbs onto the stairs. Almost onto the exact spot that caused my ultimate demise days prior.

The door crashes open behind me, smashing against the wall. Tucker hands are on me, trying to pull me into his arms.

"NO!" I scream. The touch is unbearable. It's warm and feels just like Bill's. Bill is touching me. HE'S TOUCHING ME AGAIN! "NO!" I claw at him, "GET OFF ME!"

Tucker releases me.

My skin is crawling with the closeness. I can feel hundreds of spiders on my skin, biting, writhing. "Please," I beg him, slouching back into a mess on the floor, "please don't touch me!" I push myself away from him into the corner of the landing, and turn my face away until it touches the cool, solid wall, "please, go away."

"Ivy," Bill's voice drifts into my ears.

I don't want to hear my name. Never again. Not from him. Never from him.

"Ivy!" Tucker says again.

I press my fingers to my ears and drown it out. I can't stop the sobs, or the pain they cause my bruised body with their onslaught. It just comes and comes, like wave after wave. Everything hurts, inside and out, mentally, emotionally, physically. Once this is all over, once my mind allows me to retreat to its empty void, there won't be anything left over. Just a spent shell.

There's a click above my head, lights, and the sound of Tucker inhaling sharply.

I can't look at him. Shame, embarrassment, grief, it's all the same. This isn't happening in front of Tucker. Everything I hid is coming to the surface now, all the lies, all the truths. He knows now, without words, that I'm a broken human being. A lost, battered soul.

The hem of my sleep shirt starts to rise and I try to smash it back down, but he knocks my weak fingers away. There's so many emotions running across his face, all of them leave me in tears. A mix of horror, disbelief, anger, rage. All encompassing. My shirt drops. He gently grabs my forearm. It's then that everything falls in place. The thin, ragged lines that now etch my wrists are the last straw.

Tucker's voice is not his own. It's dark, deep, something else, "Stay right here. I'm calling the police."

I look up quickly, wiping at my eyes, "Don't, please. I'm already running away."