Sinking Through the Cracks

Growing Closer Together

I wake up and look at the clock. It's already noon. I stand up and stretch my back, leaning backwards, and I listen to my back crack a few times. I bend forward and it makes me feel so much better. I decide to attempt a backbend and when I go down I hear someone shout. I thrust my hips back up and whirl around. Anthony is sitting up in my bed looking frightened,

"Sorry, it's just... waking up to that is kind of scary." he says. I smile and he continues,
"Is that the last talent that you forgot to show me?" he asks.

"I am a little flexible," I say. I pull leg behind me in a ring, doing a pretty good scorpian. I swing my leg back to the front and grab my heel. I stretch it toward the ceiling and do a pretty good heel stretch. I let my leg drop and Anthony stares at me.

"Where did you learn to do that?!" he shouts.
"Just until a few years ago, I danced in a studio with teachers and other students," I say. He gets out of bed and we go downstairs to the kitchen.

"I know almost nothing basic about you," I continue, "so what's your favorite color?" I ask
"That light green tee-shirt, remember," and I nod, "that's the color. Your's?"
"Dark teal. Birthday?"
"March 6."
"May 21. Favorite movie?"
"Dark Skies. You?"
"It's a tie between Pitch Perfect and the Hunger Games." I say. We continue talking and I lie against his chest. We've stopped talking now and we sit in a comfortable silence, him twirling my hair through his fingers, and me, revising my story that will soon be entered in the writing contest. After a few times of me running through it, I read it aloud to Anthony and when I finish, I look up at his face and he's smiling.

"You're going to win."

I honestly want to believe him, but I've read a lot of the stories on the school's website written by students and they can be amazing. I think of all the stories I've become attached to and then I think of my last attachment, the one I never told anyone about. Freshman year, I got a boyfriend, Michael. No one knew how much of a freak I was, so there weren't any problems... in the beginning... When everyone else realized how awful I was, they started torturing me. He didn't agree with them, he always insisted that I was perfect and that it was all just a bump in the road, but then he realized just how awful I really was. He began to hurt me. He would come to my house and let himself in, find me, and hit me or kick me, or shout thing in my face that made me hate myself more than I already do. I didn't tell anyone until I went to school once with a black eye that I couldn't cover up. It really didn't match, but my hands were bright red and irritated because he had made me hold them in a bucket of bleach without washing them. A teacher held me back after class and tried to get me to tell her what was going on, but I wouldn't tell her a thing. She kept pestering me, but I wouldn't tell her. That's when she saw his knuckles in class. They were scraped up and scabbed from all the times he had missed my body and hit a wall. She kept us both after class one day and she made him tell because she knew I wouldn't. After hours of interrogation involving the principle, he told them and I confirmed the story. He was expelled and he never came back. I was left alone and my teacher recommended to my mother that I go through therapy, but she didn't see the point.

I take a deep breath and I suddenly can't breath, the memories of his hand around my neck returning. I wipe a stray tear from my eye and go upstairs to the bathroom. I grab the razor from the back of the drawer and press it to the freshly healed skin on my arms. It stings, but it makes the voices in my head stop talking. It makes the memories that are surfacing dip back beneath the surface, it calms the pounding pain building against my temple. Suddenly the door swings open and I realize that I forgot to lock it. Anthony stands in the doorway and a look of shock registers in his face when he sees what I holding. I cup the razor in my hand and pull down both of my sleeves as quickly as possible, pain shooting through the fresh cuts. I place the razor on the counter behind my back, hoping, even though I know he saw, that he somehow won't know it's there. He steps in to the large room and reaches behind me. He drags the razor across the counter and I don't dare look at his face. He folds it in his hand, examining the new blade, and his voices seems to ring out in the utter silence,

"Where?" At first I don't move, don't speak, for fear that he will become violent as Michael did. Then he asks it again, louder, and I put my arms toward him slightly. He carefully takes the cuff of my left sleeve and begins to pull it up. He makes no sound as he slowly pulls the damp, bloodstained cloth up my arm. He then proceeds with the other and I stand in the bathroom, feeling exposed. My arms hang at my sides, puddles of blood forming in my hands. Then he speaks again,

"Anywhere else?" and I slowly tug down the edges of my pants. I pull at the hem of my shirt, revealing the scars and few fresh cuts there. I feel... I can't describe the feeling....ashamed is wrong because I know what I did is what I deserve. Sad is wrong because there is no reason to be sad in this situation. The only word I can think to use is frightened. This might be the thing to send Anthony over the edge, to make him realize that I'm not worth having as a friend, and I can't bear the thought. I've gotten so used to having someone there, having someone to talk to, having someone to lean on. He stares at me and the look in his eyes can only be described as disappointment.

"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want you to know."
"Why not? I could have helped."
"I don't need help.
"You shouldn't be doing this to yourself.
"I deserve it and it helps me."
"Purposely hurting yourself is not okay. It's horrible and you need to stop."
"I'm fine. I don't need to stop anything."
"You can't do this to yourself!"
"I can do anything to myself. You don't control me!"
"I don't, but your parents do! Where are they anyway?!"
"They're on a business trip someplace and it wouldn't matter anyway, they don't care about me! They haven't been back from their trip for three weeks!!!" I shout. I feel tears building up behind my eyes and they sting as I try not to blink. He just continues to stare at me and I start shouting again,

"Are you just going to stand there or are you actually going to say something. Something like 'yah now, I've realized how much of a freak you are,' or, ' everyone was right, you are just a freak who should go kill herself,'" I wait for him to say something, but nothing happens, so I continue,

"Just say it! I know everyone hates me! I know that you don't really like me and by now you've realized that I'm useless and horrible and-" I go to continue, but his voice overpowers mine,
"STOP! STOP! Don't listen to them! I would never agree with those airheads at school! I would never consider you horrible or useless or any of the things that people call you everyday!" and before anything else is said, he steps forward, closing the gap between us. He presses his lips against mine and they're soft and warm and I fall in to his arms. He holds me tightly against him and we kiss for a few moments. We pull away and I simply stare at his expression.
"You just kissed me," I say, stupidly.
"And I'm gonna do it again," he says, and he pulls me back in to him. Our lips connect and we kiss for a longer time. His hands wrap around my huge waist and they soothingly rub halfway up my spine. My hands reach his neck and they pull lightly at the ends of his hair. This is the first time I have ever kissed someone. I feel almost removed from myself, like I can see whats happening around me. I feel as though I could be normal now, but I know it's not true. I don't have a body like Ruby's. I don't have a chirpy, clear voice like Penelope. I am not like anyone wh is worth being like. My thoughts are brought to a stand still when the kiss ends. We both pull away at the same time and I stare at his expression. He's smiling slightly and his hand goes to the side of my head, his palm against the edge of my chin.

"I would never say that you are a freak, I think you're amazing. I would never think of you as fat, you're as skinny as a pencil. I could never see you as ugly, you have the face of every beautiful actress combined. As for you being a crazy wierdo...I like that..." He says this all in to my ear as I hug his chest tightly. He leads me back downstairs and we lie on the sofa together. We sort of cuddle, my head on his chest, lying on top of him. I hold in my stomach the whole time and we start watching a movie, but I couldn't tell you what the name was considering that I had fallen asleep after a few minutes. Sleeping with him is so much different than sleeping by myself because I can actually sleep when I'm with him. I feel safe, warm, and protected. I really care for Anthony.