Myocardium

Part 8

Tonight's been extremely harsh on me. First this monster of a man hurts me in such unspeakable ways I'd rather forget and then this stupid guy has to shows up only to act like he cares? 

Fuck everything.

Even though I'd like to believe that my nights are pretty repetitive, deep inside I know that that is far from true, and a night like this past one just goes to show how right my gut is about that. 

It's Monday morning again. Damnit. The clock shows 5.30 a.m. when I stand in front of our apartment door with shaky legs and a shit-ton of money in my bag. 

New week, new beginnings, huh? 

The heroin-high still lingers, in such intensity that I regret even having driven home in such a state. Usually, I don't condone reckless driving, but this behaviour of mine is exactly that, which I absolutely hate. I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling, with quiet tears running down my temples as the memories replay on and on in my mind. 

Mindlessly, my eyes stay focused on the white wall for a couple of minutes, before an exhausted yawn emerges from me. In order not to let the tiredness sink in, I get right back up. Sleeping is pointless anyway. Under the soothingly warm stream of the shower, I stretch my arms and neck in order to relieve the tension in my muscles. It's a fear-reaction I have noticed in me, whenever my fingertips begin trembling, I know I'll have to deal with sore muscles later on. Stretching does help, the shower does too.  

But, man...this exhaustion. It's something I don't know how to get rid of. 

I really want to just sort of shoot some coffee right into my bloodstream to give me a kick of energy. Instead, all I can do is drink it pitched black as always to wake me up. With my legs crossed and my eyes closed, I sit on the sofa with my coffee-mug in hand and my breaths slow and shallow, until I have to go wake up my sister. Before that, I make sure to hide the marks on my arms, chest, belly and neck by putting on a long-sleeved turtle-neck shirt. 

"Good morning, princess. It's time to get up," I speak to her gently as I open the curtains. Like a cat, she stretches her limbs and gets out of bed quickly and overly awoken. Man, I hope she keeps up that spirit for a long time. 

While she shuffles over to the bathroom, I chuckle pathetically as I look at my phone and notice the unsurprising lack of new notifications. It's sad that I must admit that the drug in my veins is still active and currently in the process of wearing off, making me extremely drowsy. Man, I just want to sleep.

Damn it, I've sworn to myself that I wouldn't be high around the kids, and yet here I am. This is definitely a one-time-thing only, I'm definitely not doing this again.

I swear. 

After my siblings and I have eaten breakfast and they've left for school, I do my best to manage preparing dinner for us. As I'm on my way back to my room to get my bag so I can head to classes, I suddenly feel a terrible feeling sending waves through my body, until my whole corpse is engulfed by this crushing feeling of dizziness, accompanied with a ton of guilt. 

It hits me right in the face, the realization of how messed up I am. As my vision blurs and I begin to feel my heart beat slowly, but with significant strength in my chest, I let myself sink down the wall next to the door in my room, whispering to myself. 

"Fuck."

Why am I so lonely? Why can't someone care about me? Why isn't there anyone who hugs me tightly and tells me that everything will be okay? Why does nobody fucking see? Sure, I want to talk to someone and make friends – I just don't know how to do that. No one's ever taught me and the times I have tried have only ended up in me messing it all up again.