Sinking Through the Cracks

Talking It Over

Anthony brings me back to his house, it being closer, and it's cozy.  The walls are a simple crème color, beautiful artwork hung here and there.  When I look at a few of the pictures, I can tell that some of them are Anthony's.  I would examine his pieces more closely, but the tears in my eyes blur my vision.  I'm still crying slightly when he sits me down on the bed in his room, upstairs.  He sits next to me, and I wipe the tears from my eyes, looking around.  One wall is completely white, a series of colorful paintings done on it.  Another wall is completely black with different pictures hung on it.  His sheets are dark gray, his other two walls a dark teal which I find very appealing.  I take in the wooden bookshelf where I see dozens of binders which must be full of other drawings.  When I look back at him, drying my face with my sleeve drawn over my hand, I see that Anthony is already focused on me.

"You know that this isn't your fault," he says.  I lie,

"I... I know."  He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, sighing.  I cuddle against his chest as he leans against the headboard. 

"Things will get better," he mumbles in to my ear.

"Maybe," I mutter in to his chest.

"Nothing will get better at school or at home,"

"But we will recover from this," he whispers.  I stay quiet, not wanting him to see that I do blame myself for what happened.  I lie on my side and he presses his palm in circles against the skin on my back.  It's soothing and I feel drained from the horrible day.  I hope that tomorrow will be better, happier, lighter, but I know that it won't.  I try to stay awake, practically holding my breath to make my stomach appear flat. 

"Ally," Anthony asks quietly.

"mmhmm"

"You should sleep.  It's late,"

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Almost eleven,"

"Are you tired?"

"Not really,"

"Then I'll stay up with you," I practically yawn.

"How about I give you some clothes to sleep in?" he asks.  I shrug, not really wanting to get up.  He slides out from under me, and I flop on to the warm area he left behind.  He opens a drawer and pulls out two pairs of dark gray sweats and a tee shirt.  He tosses on of the pairs over to me plus the shirt.  I watch him pull off his shirt and then pants, replacing them with the sweats, remaining shirtless.  He flops next to me on the bed and motions for me to change.  I drag myself off the bed and make it look as though I'm about to remove my shirt while facing him, but I duck out of the room at the last second, clutching the clothes in my arms.  I duck into a room that I thought was the bathroom, but find myself in an art room like my own.  The large walls are completly white, a canvas for all the beautiful paintings that Anthony has done on them.  One of the walls is a mural of the night sky, completly realistic and captivating.  When I pull my eyes away from it, turning in a complete circle, I see that the wall behind me is covered by a large cloth, a ladder used for painting perched against the wall to the right.  I'm about to look behind the veil when Anthony grasps my wrist and I jump.

"Please don't look behind there." he begs.  I stare into his eyes, trying to imagine what he could have painted, but nothing comes to mind.  Then I guess.  It's me.  Did he paint me?  He wouldn't have painted me.  I'm nothing special.  I don't deserve to be painted, I'm practically a killer.  I spent a few months hanging out with a girl and now she's gone a killed herself to get away from me.  I follow Anthony out of the room and back to his bedroom.  He sits on his bed, facing the wall, and promises that he won't look while I change.  I face the opposite wall so that Anthony and I are back to back.  I pull off my pants quickly and pull on the sweats.  I have to pull the string around the waist very tightly because the pants constantly threaten to fall down my waist.  I then pull off my top, hating every second of cold air that touches my skin.  My skin tingles as I feel Anthony's fingers touch a deep bruise on my back from when I feel down the stairs.  My breath comes in shakily after his touch and I hold my stomach in as best as I can, but he doesn't look over my shoulder, he's only interested in the bruising on my back.

"Who did this to you?  What happened?  Where was I?" he asks in almost a whisper.  He sounds hurt.

"I-I... I fell down some stairs," I say, but he doesn't believe it.  His finger traces down my spine and my skin tingles even more, goosebumps running down my arms. 

"You may be a klutz, but you don't do that.  What happened?" he begs again. 

"Nothing," I try to insist, but he sees through my lies.  Instead of speaking, he just waits for thr truth and when I can't stand the silence, I break it,

"Logan tripped me and I fell down a flight of stairs before lunch.  You were already inside." I say, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible.  He freezes, the heat he was so recently radiating seemingly gone.  I cross my arms over my bare chest, waiting for his response, but it doesn't come.

"Anthony?"

"Why do you let everyone do this horrible stuff to you?"

"Anthony, you know why,"

"No, I don't understand.  Please, explain why you let everyone in the world step all over you and ruin your life!" he shouts. 

"Because I deserve it!" I shout back, stepping forward and pulling his tee shirt over my head.  I face him,

"I le them say those things and torture me the way I do because I deserve it because I'm such a horrible person that poor Penelope couldn't stand to be around me for more than a few months!!! I'm so horrible that she would rather kill herself than be my friend!!" I shout, more tears welling up in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks.

"My parents never come home because they can't stand to be around me.  I haven't had friends until this point in my life! Then I thought that everything would be fine and dandy but I was wrong! I WAS COMPLETLY WRONG!!! A GIRL COMMITED SUICIDE TO GET AWAY FROM ME!!!" I say, about to continue, but my voice breaks and the tears stream down my cheeks.  I sink to the floor in a ball and cry, pressing myself into the corner.  I cry, thinking of following Penelope's footsteps, just escaping from this world entirerly.  I don't see how Anthony's words are going to fix things.  I never believe them anyway.  Anthony starts muttering my name, preparing his speak about how amazing I am, but  don't want to hear it.  I don't want to hear his lies.  When I open my eyes, I'm stuck in a flashback that is so bitter that I slam my eyes back shut, only able to see Michael, him clutching his head in his hands the way that Anthony just was, ashamed by the way I had acted.  He says my name again, but I can only hear Michael's voice and then his speak,

"I can't believe that you would try to defy me.  I am your world and you will not look at any other men but me.  You will tell no one about what's going on here.  My word is your law! Do you understand?!  GOD!!! Go starve yourself you whore."

My screams penetrate the air as the flashback fades and my eyes open to Anthony who looks frightened.  What have I just dared to reveal?