WHEN BEAUTY NO LONGER EXISTS

2

a/n: and if i happen to talk about a lot of things involving what this story is about, just ignore it bc its half me crying and half me yelling

enjoy this. though its not the kind of story be enjoyed.

this might hurt your heart (if i write it correctly ha) 

***

Mercury wandered past me a few seconds after Theo left, and he just looked at me, and I wished to be someone who's problems where centered around having to jump from the counter and not getting their food the second they're supposed to.

Eventually, I had to pick myself up, thank the good lord that we didn't have carpets, and force myself to fix everything that looked wrong in this picture. Including myself, with my bleeding face and disheveled clothes and trembling body. It was hard to even put myself on my feet, though, considering my entire lower half felt like one big bruise, and agony shot up my back when I moved wrong. It all felt like the wrong thing to do, honestly, seeing as all of it hurt, but, I got up, and my legs trembled when I staggered into the wall, and felt the impact of it at the same time that the impact of everything else hit me. And, god, I wanted to throw up, but I was not going to clean my own puke off the floor. I wasn't.

When I stopped quivering enough to get something done, I went for the paper towels first, and two cups of water. Josh was allergic to bleach, and could smell it a mile away, and it would tip him off to something. So, I spilled the water on the floor and scrubbed and tried not to think of what just happened, and tried not to think of Theo or how unsafe I felt or how he even got in the apartment. Not one part of me needed that right now, so I let red stain the white and pain shake me like an earthquake, like the core of me was now unsteady, too.

"Motherfucker," I whispered, and that one word seemed to open up something inside of me, like a dam had been broken deep enough where I couldn't patch it back together. And it was not water pouring out, but emotions I've never felt, like insecurity (the physical, paranoid kind), and fear and shame, and a hysterical laugh tore from me in a forceful, angry way, and there was no way I was going to keep on with this. So, I either get it together and stop the tears on my face, or lock myself in a bathroom until I'm drained of at least one of the awful things I was feeling.

And I wasn't supposed to be thinking, as established by myself, but I couldn't help it. It was silent in here, and I wished for Josh more than anything ever, so that his voice could fill the spaces in my head right now. A part of me didn't want to see him, though, because I know he'll think I was stupid. Stupid for not running, or calling someone or screaming or doing anything, and I wouldn't try and explain anything to him, or anyone, because if they don't understand, they don't understand. But, I couldn't lose him, so he just wouldn't know. He wouldn't know. That's it. That's simple.

The blood on me was more difficult to remove, as opposed to the blood on the floor. It stained my pale skin, even after having washed at it, and the slight red that had been left behind was a probably a product of me being too rough on my skin. It didn't matter anymore, though, seeing as I would probably look shitty these next few days, anyway. Or forever. Forever, maybe, which is what I was thinking when all this happened, and when I needed an excuse to no longer care about the surface of myself.

After I cleaned and got dressed again, there was nothing else to be done, aside from wait for Josh to get home. You'd think that wouldn't require much of anything from a person, but it took a lot for me to sit still and not scream or start crying again, and there was so much I hated right then, and only a bit of it left when he walked through the door.

During his absence, I thought about a lot of thinks, but not about how to act when he got back. Of course, he was normal, and I'm sure it would be best if I appeared that way, too, but I didn't have the energy when I tried.

"Hey, my love," he smiled. "I forgot to lock the door when I left, but I was already there when I realized that, so, you know. I'm lazy."

My chest ached, like someone made a sport out of taking a baseball to it. I wanted to scream, is all, like that would relieve the puncturing feeling in my heart and my lungs, and the fire under my skin burned like fucking crazy, and maybe, if he looked close enough, he could catch the sight of me losing whatever game I had been playing the past hour and a half.

He set the laundry basket on the floor, and I wished for some more clothes to put on that weren't as tight and pain-inflicting as they were right now, but said nothing, and just focused on taking deep breaths, and looking him in the eyes.

"Do I still need to go to the store?" he asked me, not noticing my silence, until I spoke.

My voice was shaky and rough and heavy, and the words croaked out of me. "I'll do it," I spoke, and his head snapped over to where I was, sitting on the couch and trying not to move. "I'll do it. It's fine."

"Are you okay?" I could set the entire world on fire, and he would still be concerned about me, and I couldn't breathe. The smoke was getting to me. "What's wrong? What happened to your face?"

Before I could process what was happening, my chest was heaving, and my eyes were frantic and wide and scared, and he was next to me, moving my hair from my forehead, and trying to understand, and I didn't want to tell him, so I just cried. He was confused, and I felt awful for doing that to him. Awful. But, I couldn't help it, the feeling of being all over the place, and there was tears and snot on my face and his cheek on my head, and he trembled when he pulled back to look at me, because I have never cried like this before. Not when I was younger, not when I was in high school, not ever, and he knew that.

"Who the fuck hurt you?" He asked against my temple, and the words vibrated through my skull, and I didn't want him to let go of me if he didn't have to.

~~~

Josh called Dakota, and I didn't have much of a chance to protest before he was here, with Starbucks in his hand and worry in his eyes. Dakota's always been my best friend, and after Josh spent three hours trying to get me to speak and I wouldn't (not one word), he decided that I should probably speak to someone who's known me longer. At least, that's what he said over the phone, and because Dakota is Dakota, he showed up.

"Alright, honey," he spoke, walking straight into our bedroom, and coming to sit next to where I lay, with my face towards the wall and my heart working overtime to keep me alive, though I wasn't sure I really wanted to be. "What's up with you? You've got your man all worried." His voice was softer now, and I shook my head at him, telling him I didn't feel like talking. I didn't. I felt that if I opened my mouth, things would pour from me that I wanted to keep to myself until I no longer had a choice. "Okay, you've got me worried, and I am a not worrier."

I felt I was too tired to move, in too much pain. Obviously not, though, because I could see his hand from the corner of my eye, and something inside me snapped out of place. Terror filled me, and I moved out of his reach, my eyes scanning at the room and hoping not to land on something they didn't want to see. "Wha-I wasn't going to hurt you." he breathed, and his eyes found my face, and I could almost see the questions forming in my head. "Tyler, would you just speak to me? Please?"

Honestly, I'm not sure what he expected, but I probably didn't deliver. Whatever it was. But, I drank the coffee he bought me.

***

a/n: next chapter will be longer and will probs have a lot of feelings in it and im excited