Notes From The Underground

CHAPTER TWENTY

I opened my eyes, looking around the room. It was dark and the blanket over me was scratchy, my arm hurt and I knew why. The marks on my inner elbow were dark purple and in a large quantity. I was so fucked up, I was just digging into my skin with the blade, the long red scratched and dried blood down my arm. What did I do now? I regret nothing. I sighed, sitting up and growing. I hurt all over, and this room was cold. There were a lot of sleeping people in the same room, and through the window was covered the shade was thin and I could tell it was very early morning. Patting down my pockets I searched for my phone, finding it in the back one and clicking it open. The light from it hurt my eyes, but shit 6 missed calls from Kendall.

I got up as quick as I could, sore all over but powering through it. On the floor by the cot I was laid on was my hoodie and I pulled it on quickly, hiding my arms and trying to fix my hair as I ran down the steps of the old building. It had been long abandoned before these people found it. I hadn't even known it existed until I met them.

My city was small and having lived here all my life I knew where to go, where to walk, all the streets. My house was a good 10 minute drive away, so even running at full speed I knew it would be awhile before I actually got there. I felt like shit, I meant to come home last night but it just didn't happen. How did I forget to go home, I don't even remember falling asleep. I was lost in my own confusion, but I had one goal only, I needed to get home. 

The last thing I remember was sitting upstairs in the building with Brian, the ring leader around there. 

I got on my street, my feet hitting the ground hard as I ran down to my house, opening the door and rushing to my room. I stripped down, changing as fast as I could, covering myself in cologne and perfumes in our bathroom, tugging on a long sleeve shirt and trying to look presentable. My eyes were red and puffy, the bags deeper than they used to be. My lips were cracked and dry and I was getting thinner by the day. I don't remember how it got like this.

"Where the fuck were you!" She yelled, but my head hurt so bad it just rang like a bell right into my skull.

"I was out I'm sorry. I meant to come home!" I tried to defend, but she was pushing me in the chest against the counter. She was so mad, she was always mad, I was always fucking up, and she was never helping.

"You're always out! You come home to fuck and sleep!" She shouted, her face red from her anger. She grabbed my arm, pushing up my sleeve before throwing my arm down, scoffing loudly. "Of fucking course! That's where you were!"

"Look come on I-I can explain!" I tried to reason, to keep her attention, calm her down maybe. But truthfully, I fucked up, and she was irate. And I had to suffer the consequences. Yet, I never learned.

"Explain, what exactly, Gabe?" She asked, her tone sarcastic, condescending. I had really pissed her off. "Explain how doing drugs in a crack den downtown is more important than your fiance, then your fucking son!?" She yelled.

"I-I-I." I was stuttering, the words I needed not coming to me. Either I hadn't completely sobered up, or I was too dumb to admit I fucked up again. It was both.

"You know what, Gabe? Whatever. You do whatever the fuck you want to your body, ignore me for all I care. But I want you home every night. If you're not, I'm leaving, and taking our son. Do you understand me?" She asked, looking at me sternly and I nodded. "Do you fucking understand me!" She screamed, shaking with anger at me. 

"Yes yes of course anything baby please don't take him." I pleaded, begging her almost. I was fucking up my life, my relationship. I couldn't lose him.

"Good. Glad we're at an understanding." She huffed, stomping off and leaving me in my own shame. I was hating myself more than usual. This wasn't me, this was something I had became. A mutation of who I was, only much, much worse.