Chasing the Night || a moey au

Chapter Sixteen

- Chapter Sixteen -

Every so often, I'll hear that dull knock on my door. When I'll look outside my window from my paralyzed position on my bed, when the sun will be at its almost highest peak, there will be that knock. It will shake my door and make my eyes grow wide. Not with fear, not with anger, but with sadness. Pure, utter, depressing, disconsolateness. The knock will most often be only a short, two to three soft knocks, only patting the surface of my door. But it shook me, it shook my entire room. It made my scarred hands shake with that never ending anguish. To me, everything was louder and so much more emphasized. And I just wanted it to stop.

"I just need to know that you're okay." A voice would creep through that tiny crack between the wall and the door. It would fill my room like a thick smoke that would make me blind, maybe with tears, maybe with my own hands blocking my eyesight, but I just coudn't see, for those couple seconds or so. Those words would sink through my skin, stopping my heart and lungs all at once.

After that, I'd wait until those strong footsteps would slowly become quieter and quieter before they'd disappear into the dust they were before they even came. I'd make sure those footsteps were not coming back, and I would lay there and cry. I would let the warm tears run down my raw face and burn it even more. But the burning didn't hurt, it was like a painful motivation. I would cover my face with my hands, feeling the fabric of the dirty gauze wrapped around my hands dig into my skin. I would press the bottoms of my palms deep into my eyes until swirls and explosions flooded before my eyes. And I would remember the morning after that kiss.

It's the worst feeling in the world, waking up after crying yourself to sleep. When you literally have the pry your dry, crusted over eyes open. When you have to splash your face with ice cold water in order to come back to reality, and wash those stained tears of your beet red face. When makeup runs down your face and clouds around your eyes since you slept in it, again, with not even a sliver of motivation to wipe it off. When your muscles are so sore that you have to push yourself out of your bed, unable to freely get up yourself. When your skin feels frigid with goosebumps as you tear the blanket from your skin.

I didn't want to open my eyes, I didn't want to see the world. I didn't want to know that I was still living the same life that I was last night. I didn't want to believe that this Hell was my reality. I pulled my hands out from under the thin blanket. They were wrapped in a thick gauze and smelt like rubbing alcohol. Even then, blood still leaked through the thick fabric and left stains on my mattress and blanket.

I nearly crawled over to my bathroom and ripped the gauze off my palms and fingers. I let the water run down my sink and stuck my hands under the freezing water. I watched as the water turned a deep blood red and spiraled down my sink. The cuts in my hands were deep, but all the glass was removed. I silently thanked Joey in my mind, I hate him with all my heart, but he could've saved my life. He took care of me, and no matter what he did before that, it still matters. My face felt dry and crispy with dried teats still stuck to my cheeks. That kiss replayed over and over in my head, like it was just one eternal kiss. I wished to know the meaning behind it, but I felt if I did, I would be in a worse state of mind than I am in now.

I dragged myself out of my bed, the cold air hitting my skin and tightening my muscles. I started unwrapping the reapplied gauze from my hands as I made my way towards my sink. The fabric was still stained with yellows and pale reds, never replaced, only washed. Let's face it, I have no money to buy myself even the things I need for health. I have no money at all, and certainly no motivation to earn some.

I stared into the mirror. This is the girl I've become, I said to myself, a broke, lonely, depressed, broken, slutty girl. I am the girl that all the parents warn you about when you're going into high school. Parents will always watch from afar, nodding their heads and saying, "I know how that girl's gonna be when she grows up" as they scoff at the other parents around them. Who knows if any parents ever gossiped about me, but I know for certain that the kids the parents did gossip about, did not turn out half as bad as me.