“Echo, no!”
“Kappa!”
The scream rips through me once again, nearly dulling the lingering pain in my chest. Perfect. A night from hell followed by my loyal friend of the night. Way to twist the knife, life.
I sigh and lift my hands up to rub my face. But I see all the blood that's caked on them. My blood. From my moment of weakness. Something that I haven't done in so long. This place isn't making me better. This place is worse. I'm so much worse than I ever have been. I look at the mess on my stomach. Christ. I need to clean this up.
I push myself to my feet, wincing as the lacerations stretch with the movement. I sponge them gently, trying not to irritate them any further. But it doesn't work. Each sting brings a new wave of blood. They need to be covered. But how do you cover so many wounds?
The way I used to. Wrap my stomach in a tea-towel. Sorted.
I leave the safety of the bathroom and head straight into the kitchen. This seems to be my routine now, doesn't it? Bathroom, kitchen, argument, back to the bathroom feeling worse than I did when I left. This is my new life, I suppose. Eleven or so more months of this continuous loop. If I can last that long, that is...
Grabbing the nearest tea-towel, I turn to look for some tape. Men always have this kind of shit lying around. One of the only things I ever used to rely on them for. They forced my hand, but at least they gave me the means of protecting the gashes. Every little helps, I suppose...
“Alex?”
I don't have the energy. Not today. I can't force him to leave. I can't frighten him away. I can't do anything. I'm just going to have to deal with whatever I get.
“Glen called Dr Hallet last night,” Mark continues. “She's coming over. I was going to come and get you, but you're here now. So...yeah. Just thought you should know.”
Is that it? That's all he wanted to tell me? Nothing about yesterday? No apology or anything like that? I don't know why I'm surprised...nor why my heart just dropped. But I won't let him see that. I turn around and glare at him.
“Whatever,” I say as harshly as I can. I take a few steps forward, but then his eyes widen.
“What's on your shirt?” Oh shit. I didn't change my top before leaving the bathroom. “Is that...did you...Alex, you didn't, did you?”
“What's it to you?” I snarl, a new fire beginning to bubble in my stomach. “Why would you have any concern about what I do?”
“Because...” he starts, but doesn't know what to say. Good. Keep quiet. Best thing you could probably do right now.
“Have you at least cleaned them?” he eventually stutters out. “You need to keep them clean.”
“I know how to look after myself.”
“Let me see.”
What?
“Get stuffed!”
“Seriously, Alex, let me have a look. I know what I'm doing.”
“And why would you know the slightest thing about this kind of stuff?”
“Because I used to do it myself!”
That stuns me into silence. He...he used to...No. I refuse to believe it. This is just another trick to get me back into my vulnerable state. The one that makes me immune to his lies. The one that ended up with my heart ripped out.
“Don't mock me,” I hiss.
“Jesus Christ, look!”
As he lifts his shirt up, turning around as he goes, I see his back. Nearly every inch of his skin is matted with scars and burns. What the hell? Not even my past is as bad as this. What the hell did he do to himself?
