Your Friend, Jordan

Two

***

"I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU! YOU FUCKING WASTE OF SPACE! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed and shouted above me, pressing all his weight down as I couldn't breathe. I tried gasping for air through the panic and pain, but I was completely frozen as tears ran down my face. I was paralyzed by fear. By pain. By absolute shock. I couldn't understand or believe what he was doing, how he could do it to me. Why me? That's all that ran through my head as his rage echoed and filled the entire room, and I ached all over.

***

Slowly opening my eyes, I felt the cold and wetness around my face and eyes as I woke up in my bed the next morning, while the bright sun shone through my window. I had realized the wetness came from tears soaking my sheets by my eyes, as they had dripped down and covered my bed in my sleep. At this point they had somewhat dried on my face, but I could still feel the air make its way towards me while it brushed across my skin. I could feel my heart pumping away in my chest, at a pretty fast pace, more than usual. But I didn't scare myself awake this time by the dream,—or nightmare—I simply just woke up, as if my mind was telling me 'ok, you have thought and dreamt about this for too long now. It's time to wake up. Besides, you are probably going to think about this sometime throughout the day again, like everyone other day. And you will just try to deal with it, and push it away again, like every other time it comes up.' That's exactly what I thought, while I peeled the covers off myself, and began to get up.

  My head began to pound the moment I stepped upon my feet, the blood rushing all over my body as I felt achy and woozy. The memory of the night before running back to me, I remembered the party I had gone to, the drinks I had shot back, and the hollering I got from my parents when I returned home. Although, once I got inside and headed to my room, they didn't follow me along, which I found odd. But maybe they thought I was so wasted out of my mind that I'd probably forget the whole argument anyways, and there was no point in fighting and trying to get through to me if I would just forget about it. Perhaps the yelling was about to start this morning, or maybe not. I would have to find out, unfortunately.

  Before anything else, I headed towards the main bathroom across the hall from mine, stepping into the brighter hallway as my parents room sat empty next to mine, their bed made and their curtains open. Indicating they had either gone out already, or were downstairs having breakfast together. Although from the silence that radiated in the house, I only figured the correct answer was the first option. And I was thrilled.

  Turning the light on, I squinted immediately while the blinding light entered my eyes, burning as I shot my head to the floor instantly, trying to block the light. Did these lights get brighter? Or is it just me? My head only pounded more aggressively with the light entering, but after blinking rapidly a few times, I tried to focus on what I was doing. I didn't feel as sick as the night before, although you could bet that dizziness was still hanging around, as well as the headache. Reaching for the cabinet attached to the mirror in the main bathroom—technically my bathroom—I grabbed for the Tylenol bottle, twisting the cap off and popping a few pills into my mouth. If I was going to survive in school today, I was gonna need those pills. Maybe even more.

  Closing the cabinet, I was about to head off back to my room to get ready for the day, although as I caught a sudden glimpse of myself, I stopped in my tracks. But it wasn't how I looked this morning that caught me off guard, it was this whole scenario, I had seen it before. I had been through this day before it seemed, an odd feeling resonating inside of me.

  I had been through a day very much similar to this already, only a few weeks earlier; I had woken up achy with a pounding headache, walked towards my bathroom and grabbed some Tylenol before I got ready for school. On that day as well, I had peered at myself in the mirror, and I was horrid at the sight of myself. I looked much worse on that day, with my bruises and dark marks covering my face and body, I tried to hide them away as I had worn all long clothes such as jeans and sweaters, covering every inch of my skin even though it was rather warm outside. A sick feeling had grew in the pit of my stomach once I saw myself that morning, and the haunting and jerking memory of the day before had bursted into my head, all at once. Watching the scenes and remembering what had occurred, only caused me to feel more down and upset as I felt tears corner my eyes, but I instantly blinked them away. After a few moments, I couldn't look at myself anymore, the sadness so present and strong I couldn't escape it, I couldn't get it to leave me alone. As well as the burning memory, as it played over and over in my head, as if it was happening all over again. Shaking my head, I had finally forced myself away from the mirror I stood in front of, rushing back to my room as I began to get ready for school, something I was dreading very badly, so intensely, something I had never felt to this extent before.