Dear Diary | ✓

22.08.1997

Dear Diary,

It's been a week since I last went to school. A week of bruises blooming like dark flowers on my skin, of hiding in corners, of nights spent outside with the taste of smoke and blood in my mouth. I don't even remember what day it was when I stopped showing up—everything has blurred together into one long, gray haze.

He was worse this week. I don't know if it was the smoking or just me, but every time he saw me, it was like something snapped in him. Maybe I reminded him of something he hates. I learned to stay out of his way, to keep my head down, to move quietly like a ghost. But even then, it wasn't enough. Nothing is ever enough.

The nights were the only time I could breathe, the only time I could get away. I'd sneak out after he passed out, his snores echoing through the house like some kind of twisted lullaby. I'd walk the empty streets, the cold biting through my thin jacket, smoking until I couldn't feel anything but the burn in my lungs. It was the only thing that made the pain go numb, that made me feel like I was floating above everything, just for a little while. I'd find some dark alley or an abandoned park bench and just sit there, watching the smoke curl up into the night sky, wondering what it would be like to disappear into it.

But today, I went back to school. I don't know why. Maybe because I couldn't stand being in that house any longer, or maybe because I wanted to see if anything had changed. But as soon as I walked through those doors, I knew nothing had. Everything was the same—same faces, same whispers, same looks that slid right past me like I wasn't even there.

Except for Ava.

She was waiting by the gym, like she knew I'd come back. Her eyes were the same dark, unreadable pools they always were, but when she saw me, she smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, more like a smirk, like she was proud of me for crawling out of whatever hole I'd been hiding in. I didn't say anything. I just walked up to her, and we fell into step together, like no time had passed.

We didn't go to class. Instead, she led me to our usual spot behind the gym, where the grass was tall and wild, and the trees made a canopy that blocked out the sun. We sat there in silence for a while, the familiar scent of earth and decay wrapping around us. She didn't ask where I'd been or why I hadn't been at school. She didn't need to. Ava wasn't the type to care about those things. She handed me a cigarette without a word, and I took it, lighting it with the same lighter she'd given me that first time.

The smoke hit my lungs like a punch, but it felt good—familiar. It filled the empty space inside me, made everything else fade away. We smoked in silence, the only sound the distant hum of the school, the rustling of leaves above us.

But today, something felt different. As I sat there, watching the smoke drift away, I started to really look at Ava. I don't know why I hadn't seen it before, but there was something in the way she moved, in the way she stared out at the world with that detached, cold expression, that made me uneasy. The way she seemed so... untouchable, like nothing could get to her. I realized that she liked it that way—liked being distant, liked not caring. And she wanted me to be the same.

I thought about the last week, about how I'd been smoking more and more, trying to chase that numbness, trying to forget everything, to feel nothing. Ava had shown me that, had pushed me into it, but I was the one who kept going back, even knowing what it would lead to. I was the one who chose to take that first drag, who kept coming back to her, even though I knew she was bad for me.

And I knew, right then, that she was a bad influence. That being around her was like standing too close to the edge of a cliff, one step away from falling into something I couldn't come back from. She made it easy to not care, to drown everything out with smoke and silence, to let the world blur away until there was nothing left but that cold, empty space.

But I didn't do anything about it. I didn't get up, didn't walk away. I just stayed there, smoking with her, letting the numbness take over. Because the truth is, even knowing all that, even knowing she was pulling me down, I didn't want to let go. She made it easier to bear, made it easier to not think about the bruises, the anger, the fear that waited for me at home. She made it easier to feel nothing at all.

So I stayed. We sat there until the bell rang, until the shadows grew long and the air turned cool. When she finally stood up, stretching like a cat, I followed her, my legs stiff from sitting too long. She didn't say goodbye, just nodded at me and walked away, disappearing around the corner like she always did.

I stood there for a while after she left, watching the place where she'd been, the smoke still curling from the cigarette in my hand. I thought about going back to class, but I knew it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

I'm back home now, the house dark and silent again. I can hear him in the other room, the TV blaring, and I know he's just waiting for me to make a sound, to give him a reason. But I'm too tired to care, too tired to do anything but write this down, trying to make sense of it all.

Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe it won't. All I know is that Ava's wrong, and I know it deep down. But right now, I just need to keep feeling nothing.

Goodnight, Diary

Me