Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 16: needles

I avoided my friends phone calls and neglected their text messages as much as I could. I told them that I was grounded, but didn't bother to mention the exceptions my parents made about them coming over. Frankly, I didn't feel like having them come over and make a fuss over me after what happened. I had enough swirling through my mind as it was, and didn't think that bartering excuses and explanations in exchange for concerned glances would do me any good. If anything, it would be easier--and more beneficial--to ignore them.

Why should I have to explain myself to them? It'd be easier to not have to tell them.

So I told them that I was grounded for a month, and that they could see me at the end of June.

And that was that. No questions, no pestering, just occasional contact that I could work my way around.

Until the end of the month, that is. That was when things got a little more spicy.

And by spicy, I mean arriving home from the gym to see three of your friends sitting in your living room, and your mom telling you what you probably could have guessed yourself.

"They came by to see you, and I said they could wait for you to get back."

Gee, thanks for the notice, mom.

As one who knows my pesky brother might have guessed, he was there in the living room, entertaining the guests while I was away. He was probably telling them the same story he told us the night before: his friend accidentally walked into the wrong theater room and caught glimpse of a scene from a Fifty Shades of Grey movie. I can only imagine the horror on my friends' faces if that's what he told them about.

"Hey dude!" Garret said.

I tried to copy the look of genuine excitement he had onto my own expression. "Hey!" Was that a little too excited? I think it was. Tone it down, Nathan.

The girls came over and did the expected girl thing to do after not seeing someone for a little while--give hugs. I'm not usually opposed to people hugging, with the exception of those awkward huggers or the people who don't know when a hug should end. (Hint: unless you're really close and/or haven't seen each other in a really long time, it probably shouldn't take you more than 15 seconds to let go.) But lately, hugs seemed more to me like an invasion of my personal space and insecurities than a sign of affection. I tried not to tense when they wrapped their arms around my back.

They can feel it. They can feel how soft your muscles really are. They can feel how much smaller they feel than they look, and they look really small! They can feel just how bony you are. Should she be able to wrap her arms that far around me? Her arms aren't that long! My circumference is smaller than I thought. I should not be this small around my arms.

All of these thoughts passed through my mind in the few seconds it took for them both to give me hugs and sit back down.

"Your brother was just telling us a funny story about how his friend walked into the wrong movie!" Sandra laughed.

What did I tell you?

I shook my head and shot him a glare, and he knew right away that that was his cue to leave. And then I was alone with the three of them. Three people who last saw me at a horrible state. One which I was going to have to explain.

"How have you been?" Henry was the first to ask.

I gave a curt shrug and forced a smile. "Alright. I mean, besides being grounded and all."

They all nodded and murmured agreement. And then we fell into silence again.

The tongue is a sword, and Garret decided that it would be the perfect tool to not only cut the awkward tension, but also cut to the chase.

"Who gave you those pills?"

I had to think fast. I pulled out the first believable and safe answer I could think of. "A friend of Aaron."

He nodded, rolling his tongue against his cheek as he thought.

"So you were seriously trying to get high?" My confirmation only provoked more questions. Ones like "Why would you do something like that?" and "Are you an addict?" and "Have you ever gotten high before?" and "Why would you try them then of all times?"

And for each one I had to fabricate excuse after excuse, lie after lie, all piling until my own word meant nothing to me.

~

The human fear of needles is perfectly reasonable if you think about it. I mean, how would you expect to survive a long and happy life if you have a fixation with sticking sharp objects into your body. Granted, there are people with an absurd amount of piercings on their bodies and hardly an inch of skin that isn't covered in ink, but I'm pretty sure that those people don't enjoy the process of metal being jabbed into them.

That being said, it took me a long time to muster up the courage to even bring the needle near me. I kept preoccupying myself with the preparations to do the actual thing.

Maybe I should clean the site of injection again. I should probably make sure I don't leave any packaging behind. He said these needles are brand new, but how can I be sure? Yeah, they're packaged, but I don't want to take any chances of getting an infection...or worse. Yeah, I think I'll soak them in rubbing alcohol first. What if I accidentally get too much into the syringe? Would it hurt me? I don't think so. A couple more milligrams shouldn't do anything.

After stalling for the better part of 15 minutes, I held the needle in my hand once again and, looking up, laid my eyes on the closet door. I went to it, seemingly on autopilot, opened the door, and stared myself down in the mirror. Just the sight of someone, even yourself, looking at you with judgment in their eyes, can be just enough to push you to do something.

So I did it. I bit the bullet, put the needle to my skin, and stuck it in. It didn't really hurt, just a slight sting, but the feeling of having a foreign object inside your body brought with it the urge to pull it out immediately. But I couldn't do that.

I got this far. No point in stopping now.

I pulled the syringe back just barely to make sure I didn't hit a vein, and when no blood came up and the syringe couldn't pull back, I knew that it was safe. And then I injected the liquid.

Snapshot.

Thinking about my whole journey through this disorder, there have been several times which I could point to in which I could claimed to have truly hit rock bottom. Though this wasn't rock bottom, I know it must have been some highlight of all of this. It must have been some sort of bookmark in my entire story. And if it wasn't rock bottom, it was the point when my hand lost grip of the cliff side, and I was just free-falling now. There was no turning back. There was no more rock to hang onto. No feeble excuse of it's not like it's dangerous or it's not like it's illegal. This was dangerous, and this was undeniable underhanded behavior I was skydiving into.

But I thought, if anything, I was really just falling up. I was flying. I was an eagle, bold and strong, unstoppable, a rare sight to find. I had no idea the ground that was waiting for me to come.

Oh younger Nathan, if only you knew.

~

Hey guys! Sorry for it taking so long. But here's this chapter, so enjoy!

Thoughts?

Favorite part of the book thus far? (If you happen to have one.)

Random question again: what's your favorite vine? Mine in probably the one where somebody has a Kermit puppet, and makes him say Shawty I don't. MIND.