Under My Skin

Fake Empire

I woke up with a pounding headache, blood on my sheets, and my throat raw from my hours of crying into my pillow.

The clock read only three p.m.

I thought I'd at least slept through the evening. Granted, it was only nine a.m. when this all started.

I groaned aloud upon noticing the small spots of dried blood on my white sheets, presumably from picking my skin.
I'll admit, it was all a bit blurry to me. My memory of this morning is nothing but flashes.
Frankly, I wish it could've stayed that way longer. I wish I would've done relished the time spent in ignorance of what happened this morning. When I started to remember, all I wished is that I could go back to sleep and not wake up.

With an exaggerated sigh, I started to remove my sheets for the wash, only met by an excruciating pain in my right hand upon contact.
I looked down and saw my fist, covered in a dark purple and blue bruise, covering more area than I thought possible. I'm not even sure how I got it.

"Shoot..."

Nevertheless, I pulled myself together and brought my sheets downstairs for the laundry, the flashing light of my answering machine catching my attention.

Setting my laundry basket down on the stool, I walked over to listen to the new message. The only messages I ever get are appointment reminders and prescription refills.

As I probably should have figured, but realized when I picked up, it was Connor.

'Kevin... it's me. Connor.. look, Kev, I just wanted to say-" I stopped the message before he could go any further. I didn't want to hear him speak. Honestly, it only angered me even further. And in that moment I made a decision. A decision I maybe shouldn't have made, but definitely wasn't thought through. I just wanted to make him as mad as I was.
I told him, we're not together. We were done. And while that's true, the choice I was about to make wasn't the right one. I downloaded an app I saw somebody use on television.

I'm still just getting used to having a phone that wasn't a landline. I'm still not even making calls on it.
Adelaide got it for me as a gift, she said it would make it easier for me to make friends, meet some people who know what I'm going through. I don't know, I like my landline, but Adelaide wouldn't let me refuse the gift. I just kept it away in a drawer, beside my hand wipes until now.

I've noticed this sort of stubborn streak in myself ever since ever since I started dating Connor. It's hard to admit when I'm wrong. I didn't used to have to admit I was wrong to anyone. Except Adelaide. I don't know, it's different with him. I want him to see me as an adult. And I don't feel like much of an adult when I'm groveling for forgiveness. But it's never led me to anything this stupid before.

Setting up a profile, itself, was a challenge and a half. I don't even know exactly what my plan is, here. I barely even let Adelaide touch me without cleaning off after, and from the messages I'm being sent, I get the feeling these men are looking for a lot more than a gloved touch on the shoulder. And I knew that.
I don't know what was going through my head during any of this. I think maybe I thought I'd just have someone over. And Connor would see him coming into the house and he'd get jealous. Or maybe I was going to somehow let him sleep with me. Somehow get over all my years of trauma and sleep with this stranger just to get back at him. Get past my anger.

I don't know what exactly what it was, I'm not sure it was ever any one thing. I didn't think it through that deeply, I just acted before I even knew what I was doing, and before I could even take a step back and think clearly, I was receiving dozens of messages from men. Lots of 'hey cutie' and 'size?'s. I'll be frank, I didn't know what exactly they were asking at first. I thought they meant my shoe size. I wasn't sure why they'd be asking me that, but I responded nonetheless with a 'twelve'. They seemed to be very pleased with that. I guess shoe size is a big thing with these guys.