Another Piece of Me {DISCONTINUED}

sometimes quiet is violent

*Dean's POV*

The cold air reaches my face as I step out of my car. I can't put my finger on it, but that weird happiness Melany gave me is gone.

I wonder if I'll ever see it again.

I walk into the house and get immediately greeted by the smell of cookies and brownies.

Mum's home.

I drop my bag on the floor of the entryway, just like any stereotypical teenager, and my thoughts do a 180. Melany. Melany. Melany. I'm quickly interrupted by my Mum. "Oh hello darling!" She says. "Hi mum." I say, thoughts running away from the girl I pulled a move on too fast. "How was your day dear?" Mum checks her batch of whatever thing she desired to make today. "Just as usual. Hey, don't tell Da, (yes Da. It's from The Hobbit. Sooooryyyy.) but there were about three girls trying to flirt with me again and it just gave me a lot of anxiety and they were pretty flirty. Like, I'm surprised they haven't been drinking...I hope..."

"Oh honey, don't be that way. You know that this bothers you, I know. Your Da and I are trying really hard to help you, but we just can't."

"I know. It's like I'm in a haze, you know?"

"Hon, did you ever think that maybe one day this may just...go away? I know it's a weird thought, but honey, hang in there." She brings me into a big bear hug, as if she never wanted to let go of her old son. What she doesn't know is that I didn't want to either.

I walk upstairs and look at myself in the hallway mirror. I look to see a guy with average height, with wide shoulders, and a mop of curly brown hair. I keep walking, not wanting to meet my green eyes. My eyes were different. My eyes hated me.

My eyes want me dead.

I hear the door open as my father steps in and kisses my mum. I hear them talking from the hall. "...no, he hasn't. Girls again." "Mhm mhm....I know. We need to hang in there with him, Camille. I love both of you so much."

More kissing. I walk to my room and look out the window only to see a girl standing on the street, glancing up at my window. My eyes welcome her, but everything else doesn't. "I hate this I hate this I hate this." 

I mutter. I look back down on the street. More of them, flooding in like a disease.

"Hi Da, school was great. Bring in the reinforcements, please."

"Hi son. We'll get going. Give me a second Dean." I can imagine them shaking their heads as an informative "yes." My parents walk out the front door. I look out onto the street enough so I can see them.

They make out. Long and hard. They feel each other creepily. I'm a little scared, but this is how we scare away all those girls who think I'm this amazing celebrity. I'm interrupted again by my mum screaming: "OHHHHH BABY!"

I close the curtains. I never looked at what they did to scare the girls off.

I never want to see it again.

My parents walk back into the house and turn on the television. I sit against the wall and look up at the ceiling. I question our existence. My existence. Why life works so well on Earth. What would happen if life didn't work well here. I think about how people fall in love, how they find each other. How hopeless life is, questioning why girls think I'm this celebrity that I'm not. How I might never get over my depression. How I know what this is, but don't. So many things to think.

So many thoughts to destroy me.

How will I keep myself from doing this?

I walk to the kitchen and grab a butter knife.

I roll up my sleeve.

I cut, slowly sawing into my skin on my arm's muscle. Blood slowly rises, like my anxiety, as my mother comes into the the kitchen. She grabs the knife from me and looks at me in the eyes ad pulls me into another hug. "You're better than that dear. We love you. Please." The smell of cookies and brownies turns to poison.

I collapse into her shoulder. I don't move. I don't want to leave, but my eyes want me to.

----

I wake up and look over to see that the sun has risen quite far up. I'm most likely going to be late for first period today. I mumble something even I didn't know I was saying, and threw on a pullover and some skinny jeans. Nothing special. I need to remember to start wearing pullovers and long sleeved shirts again because of my long and deep cut, which I now realize had bled overnight. I jog down the stairs where my father is reading the times and my mother was making herself some tea. I absently grab a mug and fill it up sleepily and reach over for whatever cereal I grab first. I sit down and start to eat. My parents break their absent minds and turn to me, collectively saying a happy: "Good morning."

"Morning." I say. I look at the two of them staring at me with concerned looks. "We're here for you Dean." My father says. Mum shakes her head yes. "No free periods today dear?" My mother asks. "No mum. Full day for me today."

"Oh. Well then. If you need me, I'm here. Brooke is doing a double shift today and she offered to cover for me. I assume she really wanted that cruise she won to work out."

"Okay Mum."

With that, I finish eating and get ready.

----

My car starts with a purr. No girls out this morning, probably at Starbucks. I smile to myself. Smiling makes me think of Melany. Melany makes me think of my old self that no one has noticed to have shot himself a very long time ago. I turn on the radio. Surprisingly, they're not playing anything normal today. They're playing some artist that sounds like they were new to being famous. I listen carefully to the lyrics as time passes and I drive into the school parking lot where a group of eight or so girls stand giggling at me. I turn the radio up as it explains to me something so familiar, yet so foreign coming out of someone else's mouth.

"...Sometimes quiet is violent. I find it hard to hide it, my pride is no longer inside. It's on my sleeve, my skin will scream, reminding me of who I killed inside my dream, I hate this car that I'm driving, there's no hiding for me, I'm forced to deal with what I feel, there is no distraction to amass what is real.

I could pull the steering wheel..."

How tempting.