Fix Him Up

①⑤|Sick

"Jason, you'll have to come out sometime soon," my mother hollered at my door. Seeing as I wouldn't come out, she let out a sigh of defeat and returned to wherever she was before. That was the same phrase I had been hearing for the past week. Ever since Smiley kissed me I wouldn't come out of my room after getting home from school. I wasn't depressed or anything; I was thinking hard about how I truly felt about everything.

In the moment it felt so right to do and comforting. But now not so much anymore. It confused me on how I could've thought that it was amazing to kiss a murderer. Even though it wasn't entirely my fault for it happening, I still felt responsible for letting it go on longer than needed.

I let out a frustrated groan as I grabbed at my hair. When I did that, the memory of Smiley slightly tugging at my hair flashed through my mind. This seemed to happen a lot the past couple days. I wouldn't be doing anything and I'd remember every detail. Some nights it would keep my from sleeping which then I'd spend the night pacing my room, trying to forget.

I couldn't even tell anyone about it. Well.. I felt like I couldn't. My parents would obviously flip like they did the night I came home when it happened. Only it was because of my hands being bandaged up. Of course I had to lie. And since then they've kept their eyes on me a lot more.

I couldn't tell my friends, they wouldn't believe me. Definitely couldn't say anything to Alec. Even though we had grown so close there were still somethings I had to keep from him.

For the rest of the day I stayed in my room like usual, looking at the ceiling or posters plastered on my wall. Another knock came from my door which was followed by my mom's voice once again.

"Do you want any dinner?" I stared at the door in silence until a clank noise came from the other side. After I was sure she was gone I went to my door and opened it to see a plate with my dinner on it. I looked down the hall and heard small whispers from the living room. Being the curious child I was, I decided to go to the end of the hall and listen in. Soft sobbing could be heard with my father's booming voice following after it.

"I'm really worried Harold. What if he's in trouble and we're missing all the signs?" My mother pushed her face into my father's chest and continued to cry.

"I'm sure he's just fine. All part of growing up, love." My father's words had sounded so caring and loving. Something I hadn't heard come out of his mouth for a long time.

"It's just some days he'll come home with random cuts and bruises. What if he's being bullied? I don't want my baby to be hurting."

"He's a strong boy. I'm sure he can take good care of himself." I zoned out of the conversation and quietly went back to my room. I grabbed the plate of food along the way and set it down on my desk. The feeling of guilt and self diappointment flooded all through me. How could I have possibly done this to my parents? They cared and worried for me. All I did was shut them out and disappoint them to possibly no end.

I sat down at my desk and only stared at the plate of food before me. My appetite was definitely nonexistent but I knew it would make my parents happy if I ate it. And so I did. But very disgusted with myself as I did so. With every bite I became even more sick to my stomach. But eventually I did finish it all and placed the plate back at my door where it once was.

My stomach began to twist and I could feel everything coming back up. I ran to my bathroom, locked the door shut, and bent over the toilet. Just letting everything from my stomach out. Uncontrollable tears came as I sat on my bathroom floor thinking,

"Why am I like this?"

As I continued to silently cry to myself, I rest my head on the wall and closed my eyes. Ever since I had met him everything became confusing and just painful all together. I didn't like it. I didn't like him. A quiet knock emitted from my bathroom door with a soothing voice following after.

"Jason, are you okay in there?" Out of shock I didn't reply and just sat there with my eyes still closed. Another knock, louder this time, came. "Jason answer me." The voice tried opening the door but couldn't.

"Go away," I replied. "You're cancerous to me and my state of mind."

Smiley. That's who was on the other end of the door. The last person I wanted here.

He growled and then said, "You don't let me in, I'm kicking the door down."

"Go for it," I challenged. I could hear a frustrated groan and the a loud bang on the door. It was followed by another and another. I began to panic and tried to get up as quick as I could. A bunch of "What if" questions went through my head. I finally got to the door and unlocked it with a quiet click. The banging stopped and Smiley's face appeared in the doorway. That stupid, cocky face.

"How the hell did you get here?"

"Well hello to you too, sweetheart," Smiley said with a snicker. My heart skipped a beat at the little nickname. I ignored his statement and asked my question again. Instead of having a smart ass answer, he sighed.

"Your parents called. They let me in." Of course they did. They still thought he was the "good doctor".

"Well you can leave. I'm fine."

"From the smell of vomit and the tear stains on your cheeks, I can tell you aren't fine." His blood red eyes didn't leave mine at all as he came up to me. I scooted away across the floor to keep a good distance from him. He noticed this a stood still with a pained look on his face.

"Look, I'm sorry. If you want me to leave. I will." I could only nod my head. Smiley let a small sigh escape and gave me a small smile.

"Alright." With that, he walked out of the bathroom. A few moments later muffled talking could be heard followed by the front door closing.

And so I was left to myself and my thoughts.