All the light we cannot see

Depression

Friday came and clearly the weight of my short text exchange with Lauryn was weighing heavy on my mind, I was alone in my room, curtains drawn as usual but today I had stuck a few pages from a newspaper to my wall and was punching them repeatedly, a common way to strengthen your knuckles to make punching easier and less likely to break a bone if you connect with bone too strongly. The pages were spattered with red and my knuckles throbbed, desperately begging me to stop but I told myself I deserve this. I had music blaring in my room, not aggressive music to put more impact behind my punches but songs to be sad to. Songs that say I know you're in a shit place right now and I know I can't get you out of it but I can show you that I'm here with you. My kind of music. Rise up - Andra Day blesses my ears.

'When the silence isn't quiet and it feels like it's getting hard to breathe'
Tears betrayed me with their presence but I didn't fight them now that they've started, I just let them consume me. This was good, maybe not healthy but good

'And I know you feel like dying'
I closed my ears, expelling tears that soaked my cheeks and even the wall gave in, caving slightly under my punch snapping me back to reality. I opened my eyes to find blood trickling to the floor and the newspaper had a hole in the centre where the wall behind it gave into the punishment and cracked and collapsed. I must have not realised through the music but the crack was loud and the door flung open revealing my dad for the first time since my attempt. He glared from me to the wall and back to me, he approached me fast and held a hand above his head to bring down upon me with full force, I could dodge it but I was too weak, my body yearned for the sweet embrace of the unconscious so I stood with my hands by my side. His presence was suddenly over me and I braced for the impact of his fist, a conditioned reaction at this point.
"Weak." He muttered before turning and leaving, somehow the impact of him choosing to spare me for once was worse than that of being hit. My heart thudded and my vision darkened, all I remember from there is my knees buckling and falling.
When I awoke it was clearly dark outside, I glanced around my room, at least I assumed I was still here, it was so dark and my eyes had yet to adjust that I could see nothing apart from the light digital clock that read 2:28 am. I took off my baggy hoodie, now stained red and my jeans and replaced them both with grey, tight jogging bottoms and a slim fitting black tee and slipped out of the house. The cold air was a refreshing sensation causing me to shiver before I adjusted but my breathe still formed small white clouds as it left my mouth. I had slept enough for today so I headed to a bar for a drink or two to warm myself. It was only a short walk but I got asked for ID at the door, flashing my card with a scowl I entered and took a stall at the bar. The bartender - clearly hating his life right now - matched my surly expression asking what I wanted.
"Double vodka, clean" I spoke without hesitation and was again matched with a similarly quick service. At least he knows what he's doing I thought to myself before feeling a pair of eyes burning into me, I turned to see a group of girls, each paired with a boy apart from one, she was attractive but I couldn't help but picture Lauryn and I knew I'd be going home alone tonight. I ran a hand through my long hair that was held up above my head before lazily sloping towards my back and turned away from her back to my drink.
It wasn't long before I heard a voice from behind say "I thought it was the guy that approached the girl?"
"That's only if the guy is interested in said girl" I replied without turning from my drink, there was a brief pause as she likely re-evaluated whether I was worth talking to. Unfortunately for me, she chose that I was and pulled up the seat next to me.
"I'm Felicity, but the people I'm closest to call me flick, you can too" she said with a wink that I caught out of the corner of my eye.
"And I'm taken but you can call me never" I stated bluntly, this depressive episode was clearly a bad one if I was being this much of a dick to everyone and yet I really wanted to hammer the final nail in. I should be able to go out for a drink and not be approached by a drunk girl looking for a good time. I turned to her, she was clearly crestfallen, it was written all over her face but right now I was numb. I felt nothing for myself and even less for anyone else.
"Buut" I lingered on the word and watched her face lift a little "you can give my number to your friend in the red dress" I said nonchalantly and wrote a set of random digits on a napkin, sliding it to her and downing the rest of my drink and dropping a £10 note on the bar and walking out. I didn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me turn back to her as I left.