Outcast

2 -Numb

Hi, author here of course. This chapter is kinda graphic, so if you're triggered by things like self harm or suicide, I would scroll to the 3 lines in the middle of the chapter. After that point there's no actual mention of anything. But anyways, be safe!

I break into a sprint while walking home. My black converse stepping on the sidewalk filled with leaves that have been turning orange and yellow from this chilly October.

"Hey honey, how was school?" My mom asks when I walk into the house.

"It was fine," I say back.

'Fine' doesn't even have a meaning anymore.

"Good," I hear her say, not really paying attention.

I walk up the stairs, and past my brother, Jacob's room.

So happy I have my own bathroom.

When I walk into my room, it's the exact same as I left it this morning. Graded papers on the floor, a trash bin that's halfway full with crumbled pieces of paper. The same way it's been for years now. As I lay on my grey bedsheets, staring at the white ceiling, I reach up to touch my face.
I finally realize I'm crying. I raise my hand up in front of my face and see the new tears shining on my fingers.

It's happening again.

I'm becoming numb. It's not the first time though, it's happened many times. But I know how to deal with it.

I stand up from my bed and walk over to the bathroom. I feel the shiny door handle in my hand as I grab and lock the door. I open the mirror cabinet and grab the purple razor I use every time for this specific purpose.

I drag the razor blades across my arm, a bit above my lower wrist from the last time I cut. I grit my teeth together as I feel the pain in my arm. I feel my chest quickly rising and falling. I suck in the air through my gritted teeth as I watch the new perfect lines cut on my wrist, about half an inch above the scars formed a couple days ago. I press my thumb and index finger on the sides of my wrist and press them together a bit. I watch as the cuts speck with blood and begin to flow down my wrist, on to the sink countertop.

I go to grab a rag to clean this up, so that nobody finds out. But then I notice an orange bottle of pills in my opened cabinet. I lay the rag over my cuts, and pick up the pills.

If I took these all now, could I just go to sleep and never wake up?

I set them down to clean up my cut. I only put a single bandaid on it do that nobody suspects a thing. That's when I grab the pills again.

They're right.
I'm nothing special.
I don't even have one friend.
We can't all be winners I guess.
Somebody has to be the loser.

I open the pills and grab a handful.

It's for the best.

———

"Jamie! Come downstairs!" My mother yells.

I quickly pour the handful of pills back into the container and stuff them and the razor back in the cabinet. I make sure to pull down the sleeve of my hoodie as far down as it goes.

"Coming!" I yell back.

What does she want now?

I walk swiftly down the stairs to my mother in the kitchen.

"Could you please go get the mail? Jacob's doing homework for his junior project."

Homework. I forgot about homework.

"Sure mom," I say opening the front door.

As I walk down the driveway, I breath in the cold evening air.

It's gotten much more windy today I guess.

I open the mailbox to see a few magazines and some envelopes. I don't pay any mind to them, and quickly walk back towards the door. A bit gust of wind hits me and I almost lose the mail. I hold them close to my chest and open the door to walk inside.

"Thanks sweetie," my mom thanks me.

"No problem."

I walk back up to my room and lay back on my bed.

Homework. Right.

I lift up my backpack and shuffle through it. I finish most of my homework in class, so I never have that much to do.

Huh. I guess I got nothing.

I softly place my backpack down on the floor and take out my sketch book.

The one part of the day I actually enjoy.

I take out my grey pencil and open to a new page. My pencil scrapes across the page, forming a circle. Then two lines, then two more lines, and eventually I have a body of a person. I draw a black shirt and jeans into the figure. I pick up my pencil to make some iconic eyes. Then a nose, then a mouth. And finally the hair.

I don't remember wanting to draw this.

I look up at the page with a female figure on it. She has brown hair, with shading on the tips to emphasize dyed hair. She's looking to the right of the page, wearing a normal black t-shirt that's tucked into a normal pair of jeans.
I get out my colors and add some details. I get out an orange and color the tips of her hair. I shade in the jeans a bit, and put away the somewhat expensive markers. I close my sketchbook and set it on the table beside my bed.

I probably shouldn't bring it to school tomorrow. That was a close call today with it falling out. Someone could've taken it.

My mother calls me again, signaling that dinner is ready. As I walk down the stairs, I smell a familiar smell of garlic bread. I sit down at a wooden table with my mom and Jacob. I grab my fork and look down at my spaghetti.

This is too much.

"Mom, I'm really not that hungry," I lie.

"Well you have to eat Jamie."

I pick up some of the pasta and take a bit. Then another. Then another.

I'm left with a little left on my plate.

"May I be excused now? I have some studying to do," I ask.

"Sure. But take your plate to the kitchen first," my mother requests.

I set my plate in the sink, and walk up the stairs to my room.

A couple hours go by of me just sitting on my bed. I glance over to the window to see that it's gotten dark out. I change into my long-sleeve pajamas and turn of the light. But I can't stop the tears from coming. I don't know how long, or how much I sob with the tears flowing on to my pillow, but eventually, I fall asleep.