The Religious & The Damaged (UNDER EDITING)

19

Elias

  I'm sitting in the living room with Kelsey and Joseph and we're watching tv.

  I notice Joseph checking the clock on the wall every few minutes, but I don't ask why until the tenth time.

  I lean in towards him and speak in a whisper. "You okay?" I ask.

  It seems to catch him off guard because he flinches, and he looks at me. "What?"

  "You keep checking the time." I say, and he looks away.

  "If I don't go back home soon, my father will just get angrier." He speaks with hesitation, like he knows how I'll react.

  And what he says seems to catch Kelsey's attention because she looks over, but she doesn't speak—she just looks at me.

  I look back at Joseph as he stares down, purposely avoiding eye contact with either of us.

  "You can't go home, Joseph..." I make sure to sound as gentle as I can because I don't want to upset him.

  "I have to."

  I look to Kelsey and I gesture with just my eyes if she can leave us alone, and she seems to understand and stands.

  "I'm gonna clean up." She says, and she collects our plates and leaves the room.

  I look at Joseph. "You shouldn't go.." I pause, sorrow filling my heart as I say, "I don't want you to..." I hear his breath hitch, but he doesn't speak. I continue. "Your dad is-"

  "You don't know my father."

  My brows furrow in utter confusion. "Well, yeah, but I know enough." I say in a sort of questioning tone.

  He scoffs. "And what is it that you know?"

  "That he'll kill you if you go back."

  He doesn't move—not an inch, but I just stare. His face is unreadable and I still hold my confused expression, but it's quick to change when he stands.

  He says, "You don't know anything." He sounds sort of hostile, in a way. "My father has never done anything that I didn't deserve."

  My face shifts into a state of worry as I subconsciously reach to take his hand when he turns to walk away.

  "Joseph..." I call out in a gentle, desperate way.

  He pauses, and for just a moment, a brief moment, he returns the gesture.

  "Please. I don't want us to be this way forever." I say. "You don't always have to shut down on me when conversations get too heavy for you to hear. You can talk to me.. I want you to talk to me."

  "I can't..." His voice is wobbly now.

  It makes me worry even more.

  "Why?" I ask, and now my voice is wobbly as it fills with just as much worry as the rest of me.

  He doesn't speak for a long moment, like he's dreading the sudden subject. "I.." He stammers. "I just can't."

  I open my mouth to speak, but he's gone. He's out of the door before I can respond.

  I feel empty when he's gone. I just want him to know I'm not out to get him; I just want to be there for him, but it's like no matter what I do—he shuts me out every time we cross that boundary.

  Kelsey returns. "Where's Joseph?" She asks.

  I don't look at her and shrug. "He went home."

  "He what?"

  "Yeah..." I sit there a second longer, just drowning in my failure before I stand and say, "I'm gonna go."

  "Lias..."

  "I'll see you later."

  I leave the apartment and turn and head down the hall to 301. Kelsey doesn't attempt to follow me because I know she understands I want to be alone.

  I walk in and let the door close behind me as I ascend the main room towards Nick's room, but I pause at the door. My gaze turns to the bathroom across the way—to my left, then back to the door in front of me.

  I know that I'll feel guilty about it when it's over, but I just need to feel that nothing for just a moment.

  I turn and slowly ascend the hallway in front of me until I'm in the bathroom and I close the door. I exhale shakily as I move towards the sink and I take the first aid kit from the top drawer. I'm quick to take the scissors from inside—the kind you use to cut bandages.

  And I turn and sink to the floor, my back presses against the sink as I let out another shaky breath.

  Tears fill at the corners of my eyes as I reluctantly lift my sleeve to reveal the plaster. I close my eyes at the sight.

  I feel sick, worse than I did a few seconds ago and that only makes the desire stronger.

  I pull back the plaster to reveal the scar across my wrist, and I bring the scissors to my skin below it.

  I press the cold metal against my skin and exhale shakily as I press down and drag it along my wrist until blood pours out and drips down my arm.

  The familiar nothingness is comforting, but ultimately it doesn't last—of course.

  The overwhelming urge to do it again lingers and itches my brain—just in the wrong way.

  But it overpowers any sort of self control I have, and I make another.

  The nothing disappears again, and I can't help but think: just one more.

  And I make just one more.

  I exhale deeply as a sense of relief washes through me. I stand and walk over to the sink after putting the plaster back in place, then my sleeve. I run the scissors under the water, and the water turns pink, and it slowly fades into its clear self. I put the kit back in the drawer and leave the bathroom to Nick's room, and when I walk in, we meet eyes.

  "Dude." He voices, and he looks annoyed. "Not a text? I stayed up until four waiting for you. And I called, like a dozen times."

  I sigh as I drop to the floor, my back against the bed frame. "Sorry, man. It was a crazy night." I sound just how I feel—exhausted.

  There's a long pause.

  "How's Joseph?"

  I ignore the hesitation in his voice and the fact that he guessed where I've been and say, "Pretty bad."

  "Shit, man." He replies, and my voice is so small compared to his.

  "Yeah..."

  "You okay?"

  The question feels heavy on my shoulders, but I answer nonetheless. "Crazy night."

  I just repeat because I feel as if it summarizes just how I feel.

  He doesn't speak after that, and I think he's done, so I move to lay down on my makeshift bed—but he speaks again.

  "I'm worried about you, man."

  For some reason, I don't react to it.

  I only pull my hood onto my head before I lay against the pillow and I close my eyes.

  Yeah. I'm worried about me too.