The Stoner & The Blind Girl

Part 38

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"I am blinded. I open my eyes wide and only see. But the secret - that I neither see nor feel. Could I be making here a true orgy of what's behind though?"

-Clarice Lispector

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Withdrawal.

That was the reason I felt like the only way to sooth the itching burn of my skin was to rip it off.

That was the reason my mouth felt as dry as a desert, yet my stomach felt sick at the idea of even trying to hold water.

That was the reason that although I couldn't help but shiver from the cold of my room my body was covered in sweat.

It was the withdrawal.

How many days had it been? Three? Four? It felt like a hundred.

Still, I tried to keep my promises to Emma. I didn't want to be a liar.

My arms were covered in hives and cuts from all the stretching.

Although I never went as far as to stick a needle in my arm it felt as if my blood was against me.

It was like my entire body was against me. Like my entire body was crying out to me to fill the void, to end the need.

I needed a shower. A shower would cool the fire that burned inside me. Or at least that what I tried to convince myself as I stripped my clothes off and wandered into the bathroom.

I couldn't wait for the water to warm as I quickly jumped into the shower. The freezing water felt amazing against my scalp as my hair fell limply on my head.

As the water slowly warmed I let my head hang low under the faucet.

Why was I doing this to myself? I knew what I wanted; what I needed.

Because you made a promise to Emma, I thought to answer my own question.

The once cold water now burned against my back, yet still, I didn't move.

Was one stupid promise worth all this pain? I wasn't sure anymore.

Emma meant the world to me. She is everything. But was she worth turning into someone else if it meant I had to suffer?

I opened my eyes. The water that was once hot now felt an ice cold. How long was I in the shower?

I stepped out of the shower. The mirror was fogged with cover; I wiped it clear.

I stared at myself. My eyes watery, skin sickly pale, and nose running. My hair in wet matted curls against my forehead.

I didn't recognize this person.

What have I become?

Emma wasn't trying to make me become someone else. She was trying to help me remember who I was.

As if in a couple of weeks this could all blow over and I would be the same guy she met all those months ago.

But that was the problem with its self. I'm not that guy anymore and as much as we both wish I could go back I can't. I'm not who I was.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

I turned slowly before unlocking the door and opening it wide.

It was my mother. She looked to the floor before looking up to my face. Her eyes traveled down to my raw scratched arms then back to the ground as she frowned.