Broken Pieces

CHAPTER {21}

AKARI

Clink. Clink.

All you could hear was the sound of forks hitting plates, occasional sips of juice. But still, there was a lingering silence. An uncomfortable silence. I haven't touched my plate once, I couldn't. I wouldn't. She saw me. She saw me on the floor, vulnerable. Bloodied.

Clink. Clink.

Why didn't I close the door? What's wrong with me? I scratched my fresh cuts. Why did I do that? Why did she come into my room? Blood seeped into my nails from the cuts I scratched, dripping onto the floor but that didn't stop me from scratching. I should've closed the door.

Clink. Cli-.

"I'm sorry," my eyes burned with tears as I spoke. A lump building up in my throat. I didn't want to cry, it would make me more weak than I already am. I blinked the tears away and took a deep breath. I can't cry, not in front of them. I looked up to see everyone looking at me with...pity.

"I'm sorry." I repeated still watching as everyone continued to stare at me. They were afraid. They were afraid I would break, but I won't because I'm not weak. I swallowed the lump in my throat and spoke again, "I'm sorry." Still no one said anything. "Please talk to me, I'm sorry." Just say something, the silence was so loud, I couldn't take it anymore.

I was suffocating, I couldn't breathe. "Come on, Akari, grow up." Domenico? "Stop crying. Wake up. Wake up. Akari! Wake up! Wake up!"

He was screaming, I was crying. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP!" He was shaking me.

WAKE UP.
WAKE UP.
WAKE UP.

I breathed in the cold air. Domenico's hands on my shoulders. It was dark, all the lights were off except from the light that came through the open closet door. Domenico's hands were warm on my body, but his touch did not give me comfort in that moment. I moved away from his hands and they dropped limply onto the blankets over my legs.

"Akari? Are you okay?" He asks and I just shook my head. He opened his arms, for a second I wanted to jump right into them but I was way too uncomfortable to touch anyone right now so I shook my head. He sighed and stood up. He walked to the mini fridge by my desk and pulled out a water. "Here." He handed the bottle to me. I nodded in thanks and took the bottle from him. I gulped the water as if I had never touched it in more than a year.

I finished it. "Do you want to talk about it?" Domenico asks, I shook my head. He sighed again, nods and stands up. "Get some sleep okay?" He shut the door, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I inhaled and exhaled.

I remove the blankets from my body and let my legs swing to the side of the bed. I grabbed my crutches and headed to the bathroom. I needed to shower. It's been three weeks since the attack, six weeks since I've been here and two weeks until I get my cast off. After the attack, my ankle swelled faster because I walked on it too much, so they had to put my cast back on.

Three days since Neiva walked in on me cutting myself. I was vulnerable and she saw me. I thought the bathroom was my only safe space but I was wrong. It was even in the middle of the night, what did she want in my room? Ever since then, I haven't slept. Today was different and it hurts to know that it wasn't a nightmare but a reality.

Domenico talked to me about getting a therapist. I refused. I don't like talking about my feelings, I'm always afraid they'll be ignored and it would have just been a waste of time. I don't think anyone will ever care about what's going on with me.

I feel like talking about my problems is selfish. Other people have their stuff to deal and then here I come with my problems and dump them onto them. That's not fair, I have to carry my own weight. Along with not sleeping, I haven't eaten in those three days. I was cutting because I ate too much and I was afraid I'd get fat and Domenico won't want me anymore and I'd no longer have a place to stay.

I walked into the shower undressed and turned on the water and flinched a bit when the water hit my skin. I let it gradually heat up on my body until I began to wash myself. I sighed as I scrubbed the dirt off my body. I wish emotions were the same as dirt, all you need to do to get rid of the bad, dirty ones was to just sweep them away. Then be happy.

But it was never that easy, we have to deal with our emotions on our own. It is possible to sweep them away but to some it may be hard. Some don't even try to sweep them away. They just put up a facade to seem like they have it under control but on the inside, screams of sadness echo through the walls they built up around their hearts.

On the outside, they're bare of any emotion and it's scary how it's so easy to hide that you're going through the lowest point in your life and you're the only one that knows. Alone, you're seated on the same toilet you've sat since your light died. Watching as blood drips to the floor. You tell yourself it's for the best.

You think, maybe if I damage myself, the damage from other people won't hurt much. What a lie. The damage from other people make you go back to that seat and damage yourself, maybe this time, you'll allow the tears to flow, the screams to be heard but still, only by you. Only when you're alone.

That's me. I never had a light, the strength to try and be better. A facade always seemed like the easiest option and I took it. I never wanted to be this way, at some point I did try to fix my light but I either get burned when it's on causing me to drop it and only watch as it shatters on the ground. Over and over again. I grew tired of trying so I stopped.

I turned off the water and wrapped a robe around my body and walked out the bathroom. I moisturized myself, dressed and crawled back into the warmth of my blankets and sighed in delight. I opted to watch the sunrise but decided against it and stayed in my blankets for a little longer.