Psyche

Chapter Seven

Prying, that was what I was doing. What the hell's wrong with me? He had just as many secrets as I did, but with a longer story. Well, if being a nosy bitch got me this far, might as well keep going.

"What happened to your family?" I asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. But my own words filled me with guilt.

He stayed silent for a long, long time. As the amount of seconds was building, I pondered. Maybe I could go back in time. Maybe I could have never said it. Maybe I could have gone so far back, I could have risked arguing with my coach to get myself out of that track meet. Dammit!

"I don't want to talk about it,"  he said. He got up from his position leaning against a kitchen counter, preparing to leave and return the car he stole. His energy and warmth sent daggers into my heart. 

"Why? I just asked a simply question and you're . . ."

"It's not that simple." He replied coldly. I took a step back, fearing his anger and the strength behind his voice. By now, I fucking wanted him to leave. I let him leave. He abandoned me, with tears slowly flowing down my face, like a silent river of cold, salty ocean water.

The screen door closed on its own. I hobbled over to the heavy front door. I gently pushed it shut. I glanced back at the clock on the stove, which read around 4:00 in the afternoon. All of the sudden rushes of emotions left me tired. I took a shower to wash the sticky sweat off of my skin. I rubbed some face wash into my pale cheeks. I scraped the war paint and crayola markings others may refer to as make-up away. Oh how I hoped getting myself cleaned would make me feel better. But I realized that sleep was the only solution.

But I couldn't sleep! It's those damned nightmares. I could not let them take over my sleep, like how he was taking over my life. I needed a break from it all. Maybe I needed forever. I dropped onto my knees. I was thinking for myself. How could I do that. It was always someone else's thoughts in my head, or at least that's what it felt like. Imagine that kind of life. Maybe I could have done without it... life!

What was this poison seeping into my brain? Haunting blood coursed through my swelling veins. Wounds throbbed, scars stung, invisible injuries I did not know were ever there. The oxygen in my lungs was sucked from its sanctuary. My red blood dried, leaving my veins cracked with thirst. My head, a time-bomb reaching the final seconds, was under so much pressure, I felt blood and tears squeezing out from my scalp, turning my hair into an even deeper red, if possible. Was I screaming? I couldn't tell. Were the seconds going by fast or slow? Were they even seconds, or were they minutes, or hours, or days, or weeks and months laying here, abandoned by this cruel world that I craved to have back. Suddenly, I felt a blanket or a sheet being draped over me, like I was a dead body. Am I dead? Could I really be dead? The seconds were fast! I screamed to myself. No, everything was fast. My own thoughts raced through my tortured brain faster than any human could speak. No human could even comprehend them. Was I thinking in another language or something? Everything was fast and loud. I would have pleaded to whatever higher power was up there but my chapped lips could not move; no shrieks for help could be shaped. I felt death wrapping its soft and comforting arms around me, only to take me by the throat and drag me off of the Earth, where I was forced to leave the air with my very body. And then... silence. I finally opened my eyes, held shut by his ghostly presence. I found myself on the floor, in my room. Tears stained the carpet. Blood everywhere from when my heart was ripped from my chest, from when my mind killed itself and the thoughts bled out like blood itself leaking from a murdered corpse.

When reason and order returned to the world, I croaked, "God, I hate my period." And I moved on with my life. I spent the rest of the day locked in my room, hoping to stay in there until my parents forgot about my being kidnapped. Whether they would be relieved or completely pissed, it was something I wanted to avoid. I read, I watched TV, I played some solitaire, I went on my laptop, I listened to music. Sure, I was bored. But when has facing your parents after an event like today's better than boredom. And then, I was hit with hunger. Not for food, though some empty calories (I was thinking Ho-Hos) to satisfy my carnivore needs would have been nice. But no, my hunger was for him, that hunky LARPer, for him and his sweet forgiveness. 

No, I couldn't fall into the spells he hadn't even spun, the ones he had were too much for me anyway. I could not let myself be tricked by his the riddles he hadn't even told. He, himself, told way too many anyway. Such a liar . . .

I glanced at my clock on my desk. 10:00 at night, it read. Sleep? Could I? I needed it but... again, my brain was paralyzed with fear.