Sweaters || Malum

Chapter 27

Song for the Chapter: My Demons by Starset

Dedication to Michaelsclifaconda cause they vote on every chapter and has stayed with me through my shit chapters x3333 So thanks xxx

Thanks to everyone who has read this because I have almost 900 reads omfff I can't thanks so much xxxx 

Trigger warning :(

There's only brief Malum stuff tho :/

Countdown to Talent Show: 2 Days

--

It was Thursday and I sat in English, tempted to doze off. Mr. Folsom says loudly, "Okay, The Catcher in the Rye by J.D Salinger. You were supposed to finish it by today. We are going to be discussing Holden Caulfield in relation to anti-social behavior and his background."

I raise my hand along with a couple of other students in the class. "Calum." Mr. Folsom calls on me.

I shakily say, "W-Well, Holden is talking to the audience from a m-mental hospital. His actions and psychoanalysis isn't easily decoded, but he has trouble c-connecting to a lot of people. He wants to act out to an extent, thus h-his smoking and running away from his failing grades and issues at school. He calls a lot of people phony and this can i-indicate an isolationist kind of personality. T-Take Sunny for example, she was a prostitute. He calls her up from the m-man in the elevator and pays her for 'deeds'. B-But when she gets to his room, she strips of her clothing. He says he'll pay her but he just wants to have discussion. He has trouble c-connecting to p-people not only on a mental level but also on a physical and sexual l-level as well."

"Good example, Calum. How about we have a discussion about the term 'phony' because it is heavily used and repeated." Mr. Folsom begins.

For the first time in a while in a school environment, I smile. I wasn't judged.

--

"Calum stay back." Mr. Folsom says.

"I'll be outside." Luke tells me, exiting the room along with the other students who were rushing out. I nod and he leaves.

"Calum, your semester average right now is a forty-two. I don't think you can recover from this drop, even with the midterm grade. You have a few weeks, and this means that you need to make English a priority. I can tell you've been reading what you need to; but in terms of participation and at-home work you aren't successful. You have seven zeros in the grade book for this quarter right now. Is there anything you want to talk about with me? Has anything been going on?" Mr. Folsom interrogates me.

I stare at him blankly, wanting to scream everything. I had thoughts racing through my mind, hitting the insides of my skull. I am not sure how many people could relate to this, having thoughts that you want to say that they're almost violent inside of your mind.

I think about an appropriate response but I do let an involuntary thought slip; "It isn't going to matter soon." I mumble this, hoping he didn't make out what I said. But in the dim and almost empty room - he did.

"What do you mean by that Calum?" He asks me quietly.

"I'll see you Monday." I tell him, grabbing my bag and quickly making an exit.

Luke is leaning up against the discolored lockers, his eyes closed. "Hey." I greet him, shrugging up my bag higher on my shoulder.

"So Ashton and I are back together-" Luke begins and I am about to say something before he holds up a finger. "I know what he said about me Calum. I know what he did to you was wrong and I know that he can never make up for it. But he's broken. You may not know the feeling of being broken, but I know he does. So, before you judge it, accept it. He promised that he would leave you alone, but I really like him, Cal. I also convinced him to go to the talent show on Saturday. Ashton, Michael, and I are all going to be there rooting for you, Cal." Luke smiles.

You may not know the feeling of being broken, but I knew he does.

Before I respond, Luke walks down the hallway with a small wave. I look at him in shock from his comment. I tug at my sweatshirt sleeves, a familiar habit.

You may not know the feeling of being broken...

I take the opposite direction, forcefully pushing open the metal door. I wanted to scream, or cry, or both. I don't know where Luke gets off on saying that kind of shit to me. 

My phone buzzes and I grab my phone and unlock it, the screen hazy from my tearful eyes. It was from Michael.

Hey babe xx I just wanted to tell you that I love you lots and hope you have a good rest of the day. See you tomorrow Calbear xxxx <33

Michael was so fucking adorable that he almost didn't have to do anything and I would still smile. I tap my fingers against the touchscreen quickly, my smile quivering as I attempt to type the blurred letters.

Thanks Mikey. I am so in love with you, you have no idea xx See you tomorrow <3

I plug my earbuds in and put on Missing You by All Time Low. I quietly sing along as I walk home. I was looking down the entire time, watching the mist from my warm breath against the cold air form. I get to my house and sigh in relief as my father's car isn't in the driveway. If anything, he must be at work. I unlock the door and head inside, locking it behind me. I take off my shoes and drop my bag.

I take out my earbuds and go upstairs with my phone. I lock my bedroom door and pull out the small box with the C engraved on it, thinking back to the time when I never cut. When I was oblivious to how harmful it was. I would never blame Jack for the push that got me cutting, but I probably would have never done it, or held off on it.

I grab a razor and go into the bathroom, locking that door as well. I unbutton my jeans and pull them down. Michael wouldn't see my legs and the cuts, he would see my arms. Also, the recent deep gashes had scarred extremely painfully. 

I sit down on the toilet and put my foot on the bathtub. I put a lot of pressure on the corner of the blade and into my skin. I sigh in relief, allowing for a few more tears to fall from my eyes.

You may not know the feeling of being broken, but he does.

You may not know the feeling of being broken...

Go fucking kill yourself! I hate you Calum Hood!

They began to hate you as much as I did!

You may not know the feeling of being broken...

Slut.

Fag.

Go fucking kill yourself!

Everyone's words repeat in my head and I felt dizzy. My hand seemed to be moving on its own, as if it was more than habit. I was confused as to why I never seemed to be good enough for anybody. I wince as the razor slices my skin again. Whenever I sliced my leg was so bloody that it got on my fingers, and now my razor was covered in my blood. 

I let go of the razor shakily and see the small puddle on the ground, and more drips falling from my leg. I sigh in relief as everyone's words begin to stop circling around in my head. I put my foot down, accidentally stepping in the bloody pile. I pull open the shower curtain and turn on lukewarm water. I place my hand under it and see the blood turn into orange and wash away off of my hand.

I then move my leg into the tub and put it under the water. "Fuck!" I exasperated in complete agony. With both hands I grip onto the side of the tub tightly until my knuckles were white. When the water no longer bothered the semi-deep gashes I was able to calm down and loosen my grip. I lift up both hands and see blood coming out of my right knuckle, where I had punched the mirror.

I scrubbed off some of the excess blood and then turned off the water. I turn around, keeping my foot off the floor, and grab a black bath towel. I dab off the water, my leg was still bleeding. I get up, making sure it was away from the small puddle, and grab some ACE bandage. I wrap my leg in it painfully and sigh when it was done. I spend the next fifteen minutes cleaning the metallic, crimson, coagulated liquid.