New Kid On An Old Block

Chapter Five

It was nearing the end of October now. 
Jack and I hung out often, and things felt okay whenever he was around. We laughed, played video games, joked, even flirted a little, or maybe that was just me, but it felt like he did too. We had a good time, going to the mall, browsing the record shops, spending so much time in the music stores that we usually had to be told when to leave because we couldn't stand to put the beautiful, way too expensive guitars back.

I still hadn't stopped the cutting though. I told Jack I'd try to stop, but I couldn't. I just couldn't.
My parents had come home for a week, which was okay, but they didn't notice anything wrong with me at all. I wondered how they couldn't notice. I wasn't eating as much anymore. I didn't have the drive to, unless Jack was around. He made me happy. 
I've known him for nearly two months, and he was already the only driving force I had in my life to keep my head above water. I was sinking. Rian had been gone for a week now on some family trip and wouldn't be back until Thanksgiving break, which starts literally nearly at the end of November. He was visiting a sick relative or something, spending as much time with them as possible, so school let him do his assignments remotely. 
It sucked though, because Jack couldn't always be saving me. 
So I found myself alone a lot all over again, and alone isn't a good place for me to be.

Jack's mom was taking me to the grocery store once every two weeks, so that was nice, and Jack tried to come over every day, but his family was huge on family things. I got invited, but how stupid and clingy would I look to be constantly at my best friend's house, the same best friend I keep having conflicting feelings for, just impeding on their family time? I know his mom wouldn't mind at all, she loves me and thinks I'm too skinny and wants to constantly feed me and mother me, which is a really nice feeling, and his dad is an incredibly smart, talented retired doctor who still does some consults here and there, his brother is nice, and his sister is nice but I've hardly seen the two of them. Still, they were a tight knit family. Something I always wanted, and something I never had and probably never would. Still, I couldn't impede and push myself onto them like the charity case I am. 

It was too early tonight to do anything. Jack was at dinner right now, it was Thursday and I hated everything. 
My mom called.

"Hello?" I answered dully, aching for something to do, fighting off the anxiety that was killing me. Being alone is starting to take its toll.
"Alex honey, hi, it's mom. Just checking in. How are you?" She asked.
I sighed, "Fine mom. Just laying around. Cleaned the house, did my homework. Did laundry. Nothing new." 
"Aw that's good honey." 
"Sure. When are you coming home?"
"I don't know, we told you about a week, but honestly hon, your dad's might get extended and I don't know when I'll be able to come, we're opening so many new branches and are extending into Canada." She boasted eagerly.
"So...Why did you even have a kid if said kid was just going to be left alone all the time?" I had to ask. I was irritated.
"Well honey don't say that. We're home a lot. Just not right now, not the past year and I'm sorry for that, but things are picking up. When things are calm again, we'll be home more. I promise." She sounded sympathetic.
I didn't believe her. I had a sinking feeling and a lump in my throat.
"But...A-aren't I enough to m-make you c-come home and l-let someone el-else handle it?" Fuck. I was crying. I sniffled and tried to control myself, but wound up making a choking noise instead.
"Alex...Sweetheart don't be upset...I know this is hard. I miss you every single day. You are my perfect, beautiful boy. Please don't be upset. You can handle this, I know you can. I love you." 
Bullshit.
"Th-then stop l-leaving me." I sobbed out.
"Honey...We'll talk about this later, I have to go. I love you so much."
Click.

I threw my phone down on the ground, hid my face in the couch pillow and just sobbed. Why was I not important enough to anyone? My mother just heard me crying and she hung up. Told me we'll talk about it later.
Bullshit we will. She's going to brush it under the rug like always and hope that next time she calls, I'll be in a better mood. As if I'm ever in a better mood. I'm just good at faking it most of the time.

(A/N Self harm starts here, I'll put another note when it's done)

I got up to go take a shower. There was nothing else for me to do, so I picked up my phone and cried my way up the stairs to my room. I threw my phone on my bed and stripped my clothes, actively avoiding looking at myself.
I grabbed the only friend I had right now. 
I paused as I looked at myself in the mirror once I entered the bathroom.
Disgusting.
I took the bandage off my arm and the gauze over the cuts and threw it in the trash. I stared at the angry, wide open, still attempting to heal gashes on my arm. That's what they really were. A razor didn't do all of that by itself. I made it do that. 
I felt numb again just looking at what I'd done.
My hips were looking pretty barren. 
I turned the shower on and stared at myself in the mirror.

It's no surprise no one loves you. You do this to yourself and you enjoy it. 
Jack said you're pretty, and he only thinks that until he's looking at the rest of you. 
The rest of you is repulsive. Stop trying so hard. Just accept the fact that you're worthless, Alex.

I shook my head at my thoughts, feeling embarrassed at myself and the tears that wouldn't stop streaming down my face, and the gasps that just won't stop escaping my lungs as I try to force myself to stop crying. It's getting harder to do that.
I get in the shower and cringe a little at the hot water touching my arm, but it doesn't matter.
I sink down to the shower floor and just let it all out again.
I clutched onto my best friend, my only friend, stared down at my hips and just cut as I cried.
"Worthless" Cut.
"Stupid" Cut.
"Ugly" Cut.
"Fat" Cut.
"Disgusting" Cut.
"Coward" Cut.
"Just go for your fucking throat idiot. No one's going to miss you or bother looking for you." Cut. Cut. Cut. Cut.
I raised it to my neck and pressed it right where the others were. My heart pounded as I made the first cut, and once again. I stopped. 
Fucking. Coward.


I screamed at the top of my lungs and threw the blade at the shower wall, pulling my knees to my chest, my hands gripping my hair tightly, just screaming.
No words, just screams of pure hatred for myself, for everything about me.
I pulled so hard at my hair, I was pulling it out in chunks, throwing them down the shower drain, just fucking screaming.
I screamed until my lungs gave out and my throat couldn't produce another sound.
I just laid there against the shower wall, defeated. I grabbed the blade again and sliced a huge, deep gash across my thigh. I'd pretty much dug the entire blade into my skin. I closed my eyes and laid my head back, letting it bleed.
I felt nauseous. It was bleeding a lot. I was dizzy. It was black.


(A/N: Self harm over, continued talk of it throughout chapter though.)

I opened my eyes, blurred vision, and I was cold.
I tried to push myself up on my elbows, but I got pushed back down again.
"Don't move" I heard Jack say.
How the hell did he always show up.
Okay, I understood the last time a couple weeks ago, I texted him.
This time, I had no idea how he just...Knew? And why was he always saving me? That wasn't fair. Our friendship wasn't fair. He did mention coming over though if he could, and he knew where the spare key was.
I opened my mouth to speak but literally nothing came out. I'd screamed too much.
"Alex, you need fucking stitches or something dude, and what the fuck did you do to your neck." He sounded worried.
I shook my head, "I've done worse." I whispered. It was true. I had.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better? You sliced your leg open and almost slit your fucking throat. Tell me if that's honestly supposed to make me feel better?" He stared up at me worried, and somewhat angry. I couldn't blame him for that.
"No." I answered honestly, my voice coming out as nothing more than a faint croak. My throat hurt.
He held up wet clumps of my hair then dropped them back in the shower, "You ripped so much of your hair out Lex...What the fuck happened?" He sighed and kept holding pressure to my still bleeding thigh.

Oh fuck. He found me in the shower. He saw me naked. He saw every single inch of my scarred up body. 
I teared up and shook my head.
I looked down at myself, I was covered up with only a towel covering my dick. Wonderful.
I laid my head back against the cold tile. I still felt so sick.
"Butterfly bandages." I croaked. They weren't good to use on deep cuts like this, but there was no way in hell I was going to a hospital, and if I was, I wasn't giving them my legal name, address, phone number, or health insurance. I'd pay in cash. Fuck that.
"Alex no. We need to get you some sort of stitches...This is fucked up Alex..." He sounded so upset.
"I know." I whispered, "Butterfly bandages." I repeated.
He grabbed the first aid kit, "Is the blood slow?" I asked, hurting my throat each time I tried to talk.
Jack nodded, "It's almost stopped..." 
I sighed, "So bandage it. Take me to the walk in. No hospital. Wait for me in the cab or whatever the fuck we take." I croaked out.
Jack just stared at me for a minute, "Are you serious?" He asked, "Why not the hospital? My god, even my dad could do it...He's got all his stuff at home..." 
I shook my head, "No. Walk in. I'll do it myself if you won't." 
Jack bit his lip, then started bandaging once the blood was just a slow trickle. He put gauze over my cut and and wrapped it tight with a thick ACE bandage.
He helped me up, and I held the towel covering myself tight. 
Then the wave of nausea hit. I dropped back down to the ground with him catching me just in time.

I put my head over the toilet bowl and just spewed my guts out. 
He knelt down next to me and rubbed my back. How the fuck he hadn't just ditched me here to figure it out myself yet, I didn't know.
He helped me back up once I was done. I walked into my room and grabbed underwear out of my dresser and some sweat pants. He went to my closet and tossed me a long sleeve shirt and a hoodie. Good thinking. Hide the existing self hatred marks so no one would see those. Just on my hips and thigh. Really, his intention was the fact that it was chilly outside.
I got dressed, putting a grey beanie on my head to cover the clumps of hair that I ripped out.
"Alex...You know, you're 14, almost 15...It's insane that you think like this and do this to yourself..." Jack finally mumbled as he got on an app to get me a cab.
"What makes you think I don't have good reason to?" I countered, sitting down next to him and putting my slip on Toms on. 
"You're so young...I mean. I have anxiety and depressing moments but..." He sighed.
I laid my head on his shoulder, surprised that he didn't push me away, "Jack, I have diagnosed depression and anxiety. I have fun little people in my head telling me how useless I am. Then my mom calls me today, I break down in tears because I just want my parents to come home and instead, she tells me how good I am at taking care of things, and how she wants to be home more, but can't because 'they're extending all the way to Canada'" I mocked my mom's voice there, "I'm literally crying my eyes out to her and she can't be bothered. She told me we'll talk more about it later and hung up. Jack, don't you get it? It's bad enough for me without the issue of diagnosed anxiety and depression. Putting that aside, it's the fact that I don't have anyone constantly around me, like parents should be...I have older siblings all the way back in the UK, but they don't want me. I barely know them if I'm being honest...I mean honestly Jack...I have no one, and don't say I have you and Rian, I know that I do, you especially but I'm not your charity case. I'm not here for you to babysit and never give anything back to you guys. I grew up with zero friends. Then I turned into the school faggot. Then I stayed the school faggot. I got beaten, had my head pushed into a fucking toilet, had a girl kiss me just so she could laugh at me later for it. So please. Understand, or at least try to understand that it's so much easier to listen to the voices in your head telling you how fucked up your life is, and how fucked up you are than it is to face the reality that you live in. Tell me how happy you'd be if that was your life, Jack." That hurt. My throat caught so many times, and my voice was horrendously hoarse and croaky, but I had to say it. 

Jack watched me the entire time I spoke, "I'm trying to understand Alex...I really am...You have to let me in though...I mean honestly, think about it. I'm 14. This is insane to me. I can't fathom feeling the way you do, but I'm trying to." 
I just looked at the ground, "Maybe that's the point." I put my hand on his knee, "Maybe you're not supposed to be able to get it. You're 14, and mentally, I'm fucking...I don't know. The age of a middle aged depressed man, I mean look at me. I practically live alone, I hate myself, the facts add up. Maybe I was right and I'm not good for you to be around...Don't let me drag you down too, Jack." I looked at his phone and saw the cab outside, "You don't have to come." I got up and limped myself downstairs. God this cut hurt. I was probably a major idiot for that one.
I sighed as Jack followed me down the stairs, "Just shut up Alex." He took my arm and helped me get down the rest, then helped me get in the cab. He told the driver where to go. I thought this was insane just like he did. 14, alone, taking care of a house by myself because as lovely as my parents could be, they couldn't be bothered to put their careers second, and mentally unstable with no one to really help guide me. I was no regular teenager. I'm a teenager living an adult's life. A very depressed adult's life. I thought of myself like Ricky, that kid on Secret Life of The American Teenager. I was in his same situation pretty much minus the abusive foster homes.
I stared out the window, not even realizing that Jack had his hand on mine until his fingers locked with mine. I held his hand right back. I didn't deserve this, but I'd take advantage of it while he was offering.

I refused to give my name at the walk in. I called myself Alex, and Alex only. No last name. No insurance. Made up birthdate to make me 18. Insists on paying in cash. I'd brought the wads of money I'd saved up from my parents constantly leaving me with it and me not having anything to do with it. Guess it came in handy for once. 
They stitched me up, which I hated, and they tried to question me about the scars on my hips and the cuts on my neck. I walked out as soon as they were done stitching me up, I didn't wait for them to tell me I could go. I asked the receptionist for my bill. $390 just for some stitches and lidocaine injections was pretty steep. Maybe I'd have to get into the medical career. I could be rich. 
I walked back out to the front where Jack was sitting, waiting for me. I half expected him to have left.
"You stayed." I mumbled. 
He rolled his eyes, "Yeah idiot. I stayed." 
"How did you even get to me in the first place?" I asked, sitting down on the bench next to him.
"You didn't answer your phone and I said I would try to come over. I got scared when you didn't pick up. I tried for like half an hour, so I told my mom you needed help with an assignment and that I was probably gonna stay the night and just borrow some of your clothes...My backpack is by your front door..." He looked at me with that pained, pissed off look.
"I'm sorry that happened Jack..." I shook my head at myself.
"Then stop doing it. I don't mean the self harm thing...I know that's not easy to break....Just stop doing it alone...Tell me when you need help Alex...I know you're used to being alone but you're not anymore, and you think you're not worth me sticking around, but damn it Alex you are, one day you'll see that..." He helped me up and into the new cab when it came. 
We went back to my house and sat on the couch together. He made me chicken noodle soup and made himself a frozen burrito. We huddled on the couch under a blanket watching Family Guy and The Simpsons all night.