We Fell Apart

It's more than episodic

Song of the chapter:
Beyoncé- Haunted.
***

Times in which I would lie on my bed and gaze at the wall for hours came often rather than not. Anything could trigger it and the moments came more often than not in those few months.

Closing my eyes I let the first tear roll down my cheek and onto a pink cushion. Suddenly the pain in my chest is no longer emotional and it weighs down on me in the most indescribable feeling.  Looking at my white wall which is busy with writing, makes me nauseous. The words on the wall had been carefully selected, names in different sizes and things Angela, Jamie and I had chosen to put on it. A few random quotes, stupid phrases when we'd gotten it ordered. I turn to face my one blank wall.
I feel myself begin to choke as the silence of my house becomes unbearable and my thoughts become overwhelming. My mom and Dray had gone for a conference in Barbados and Katlyn was out catching up with old friends. The prospect of tomorrow was daunting. The day moved painstakingly slowly, silently, mockingly. I feel myself reach out for a lighter that I'd carelessly left on my dresser. I mentally scold myself as anyone could have found it.
Flicking the lighter, I watch the lights praying for distraction. I watch, almost as a third party as the lighter touches my skin lightly, leaving a small black burn. I register the pain somewhere at the back of my mind but continue to hold the lighter underneath my wrist. As it burns my flesh for seconds or minutes,  the pain finally registers and I drop the lighter, swearing in agony.

I jump off my bed and rush to the bathroom and run the wound underneath the cold tap.

Shit!

I wrap the burn wound in a bandage and walk back to my room. My footsteps, barely audible in the plush white carpet.

I take the offending lighter off my bed and  stash it in the back of my shoe closet in a pair of leopard print uggs. I lie back on my bed, the throbbing pain of my left wrist, disappearing somewhere in the background of the swarm of thoughts in my aching head.

My thoughts drift to how Damien hadn't called and how Kevin and I hadn't spoken since that faithful day I'd made a fool of myself. My thoughts drift even further back to the day Kevin ended our relationship.

"What is this, Skye?" He asks, barely holding onto his calm, the offending object in his hand.
"Kevin, it's now what it looks like, it's-"

"You're selfish Skylar." He snapped and I threw my head back with a laugh, suddenly angry at him for not giving me time to explain.

"What are you talking about Kev?" I slurred drunkenly. Shit. I didn't mean for him to realize I was drunk.

"You're always either drunk or high and that doesn't seem like a problem to you? You dissappear out of my life for days and then come back to sleep with me when it suits you?" He yells. "What is this, Skylar?" He repeats.

I look at him darkly and then in a cold voice say "My best friend is upstairs sleeping, if you don't mind. Our relationship never seemed to bother you before and if you're implying that I use you," I spit angrily "then you're just as much to blame unless you're struggling to recall all those times we slept together." He throws his hands up and looks heavenward, groaning in frustration.

"You still don't get it." He says. "I don't use people, Skylar. You're too self absorbed to realise the shit you do to people, hurts." I flinch as he vaguely repeats the words I had shouted at Angela only days earlier.

"Leave." I say coldly, pointing in the general direction of the living room door.

"With pleasure." He retorts.

I sob loudly as the memory floods through my brain.

Fuck Kevin. Who needs him?

Fuck Damien and fuck everyone.

My phone beeps somewhere in the depths of my bag and I make no move to get it. The only thing I know right now is that I can't do it. Maybe I'll survive tomorrow and the day after that but the next week. I can't do next week. I can't do tomorrow. I'm scared of what the future holds.

Kevin had been extremely right. I hadn't been sober for more than a day in a very long time and if I was sober then I would be high and if not then I'd be popping pills that gave me a drowsy feeling. Once they lost their effect, I would discard them just like I did to people that were no longer of use to me. I couldn't even see what I'd become. I used people recklessly and had little respect for myself, sleeping with amy guy at any time that I could stand to be touched. The other times, I would be half climbing up the walls, clawing my eyes out at the prospect of being touched in the same way that he had touched me. The fact was, I was a victim of sexual abuse, my sister had left because she'd been to disgusted with me. Everyone around me was slowly disappearing out of my life. My mom was never home and if she was, she would be with her adoring fiance. I was a drunken mess that couldn't face the next day. I craved the affection of males too much and sex had become a sick game, less than enjoyable. Real intimacy was something I couldn't stand and that's why I'd played around with Kevin. I really loved him and I couldn't stand that.

I open my eyes and realised it had grown dark outside. My hand is now extremely painful and I search the house, futility for burn cream before an aromatic smell wafts up from the kitchen.

Katlyn's home.

I walk down the stairs, my grumbling stomach leading the way.

"You're home?" I say softly.

She flinches as if she's been slapped.

"obviously. " she sighs but not in a bitchy way.

"I'm sorry Katlyn." I say and we're engulfed in a silence as she turns around and walks to the fridge, grabbing a brick of cheese. When she turns around, tears have formed in the corner of her eyes.

"What happened to your arm?" She asks softly, gesturing towards my bandaged wrist. I stiffen, too tired to lie.

"I hit my arm... door." I finish mumbling vaguely.

She looks at me in confusion, her eyes still wet with tears. She drops the cheese on the counter and walks over to where I'm standing. Slowly, she unwraps the bandage. When she's done the tears that were forming start to spill. She presses a hand over her mouth and begins sobbing. "Skye." she whispers my name hoarsely and tears start spilling down my face. She stands in front of me and without hesitation puts her arms around me. I sob as she squeezes me tightly and my arms automatically wrap themselves around her neck. She buries her face in my shoulder whispering that she's sorry, repeatedly and we stand in the kitchen, sobbing before the timer on the oven goes off. She warily removes herself from the embrace and motions for me to go upstairs. Wiping her tears she says "Go upstairs and wash your face. There's some b-burn cream in the st-study." She stutters as she looks at my arm and her bottom lip quivers. I turn away from her. If I didn't see it, it wasn't real. My sister that I'd just forgiven, wasn't crying because of me. She wasn't crying because I'd burnt myself in a trance. If I repeated it to myself enough times, I could almost believe it. Having composed herself she finishes "And then come help me with dinner." She smiles tightly.

I do as she says and once I've wrapped the bandage around my arm and I've received some relief from the burn cream, I help her finish our meal of seafood curry with cheesy vegetables. I smile to myself as I think that she remembered I hate love cheese, Indian cuisine and didn't eat meat.

We're gonna be okay. I think to myself with a small smile.