Speak

Chapter 9

"Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets and takes its own punishment in silence."

~ Dorothy Dix

I wake up Saturday morning with my head caught in a dense fog. I finally fell asleep around five and Greg will be here to pick me up at ten. I look around the room and notice that Kim never came back home last night. Good. I don't need the continued humiliation of her judgemental eyes glaring at me, realizing just what type of freak I am.

I drag myself out of bed and trudge into the bathroom. By now, it has all become routine. I stare at my reflection, wondering who is the person in the mirror looking back at me. I don't know, anymore.

They keep saying that time heals, but sometimes things are broken beyond repair. How can you mend a vase together if fragments have been lost, thrown away, or are turned to dust? Instead, you construct a box, and place the broken shards inside, sealing it tightly to prevent anything else from happening. You put labels and pictures on the box, telling everyone that inside is a beautiful unblemished vase. But what happens when they try to open it? They will see what is inside and realize that the vase is unrepairable and just do what should have been done when it was shattered.

Throw it away.

I reach for the antibiotic ointment and begin applying it to my arms. Risk of infection to the cuts upon my skin is the last thing I need. It's all apart of the routine. I try to brush the ratted knots from my hair and finally give up; instead, just pulling it back out of my face. I am in the middle of brushing my teeth when there is a knock on the room door.

It's probably Greg. He can wait.

I continue to brush my teeth as the knocks get louder. If not for the knowledge of a roommate that could possibly be indecent, I know Greg would have barged in by now.

"Lizzy!"

I hurry and finish, as his knocks become more desperate. I can't exactly answer him that I will be out in a minute. When I open the door, Greg rolls his eyes.

"It's 9:45!"

Yeah? He said he would pick me up at 10:00. He's fifteen minutes early. I don't know why he's acting like I'm making us late.

"We need to go," Greg states, frustrated that I am still in my pajamas.

Growing up with our father in the army, we had a rule. If you're on time, you're late. You have to be fifteen minutes early in order to be on time. Gumby told me 10:00, so he can wait another fifteen minutes for me to get ready.

"I know, I'll be fast."

I dig around in my closet, trying to find something to wear. I'm going to see Doc. I have to appear put together, but not overdone or he'll never buy it. I opt for a lightweight shirt and jeans. The breathable fabric will be more bearable in the hot August air, but the long sleeves will make it easier to conceal my arms. I head back to the bathroom and change. With one last look in the mirror, I try to force a smile.

Yeah, I'm not fooling anyone.

"Are you ready to go, now?" Greg asks as I reemerge from the bathroom.

"About as ready as I'll ever be!"

Greg rolls his eyes as he opens the door. He stands there waiting for me to go ahead of him, and I take a deep breath. This is going to be a long car ride. I haven't seen Gumby in a week. Even though he has harassed me all week with a constant barrage of text messages, I cannot escape the face to face communication. I can reassure him all I want through text messages, but the truth is harder to conceal in person.