Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame
Drip. Drip. A sigh. Red against cream. Eyes shut. Shoulders slouch, hair curtains. Carefully clutched, arms hanging, head ducked. Flick of a wrist. Pain. Pain. Pain. Relief. Pain. Relief. Fading now. Numb again. Another. Pain. Pain. Relief. Pain. Relief. Eyes watching now. Red drips, red against cream.
Brown eyes watch as each red bead slides down olive skin. A hint of a bitter smile. The sharp pain is revelled in, slowly her hand reaches down. Fingers touch red on cream, head lifts, hand follows. Red on olive skin, fingers rub. Red spreads across her fingers. Relief is short. Numb, Numb again. Feet move. Pain, another sigh. Eyes close. Pain. Relief. Blade dropped, she stands. Wetness on face ignored, no more red against cream. Now just cream. Pain faded, relief follows. Flooded numb, enclosing emptiness. Slow deep breaths, careful wrapping, red soaked tissues thrown. Engulfing hollow.
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
A shove. A grunt. A clang. Eyes shut. A sneer, narrowed eyes. A grimace, white knuckles, head ducked. Snickers, a snarl, eyes flash. Anger, confusion, frustration, pain, fear. Dropping, sliding, stopping. Footsteps walking away. Relief, frustration, anger, fear.
Blue eyes watch as the hulking forms walk off, others around pretend not to see. The stinging pain in his back is ignored, slowly he stands on rickety legs. Hands clutched tight around his black leather LV bag he turns and continues on, head held high. Courage. Untouchable, fearless. Turning the corner, alone- eyes shut and a shaky breath is released. Overwhelming fear cripples. Tears sting, but held back. Hand hurts from hitting wall, a whispered swear. Slow, deep breaths, eyes open, and steps are taken forward again. Fear pushed back, frustration builds.
Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe
It was dark. The only light in the small messy room came from the orange streams of light of the old street lamp outside. But the night is not silent. Not in the least. The slim form laying on an old mattress bed is curled on her side the old comforter drawn around her like a cocoon. Head buried in the single thin pillow. Dark hair curls around slim tan olive shoulders. Eyes are clenched shut, musics plays loudly from the black headphones over her ears. Hands clench and unclench.
Outside the music are screams, glass shatters, slaps, cries, whimpers, sobs. The creak of wood, the crack of wood, the splintering of wood. The thump against walls, the pleas, the whispers, the threats.
The door to her room is barricaded with an old drawer, a table and a chair, also double locked. Thumping against the blocked down, swears and threats, promises. The girl only curls into herself more and and loses herself in the music. In the darkness. In the fake silent night, lit by only streams of orange from a street lamp- she pretends to not hear. And she thinks on red on cream, on relief and pain. On feelings. She blocks out all else. Eyes trained on only one thing. A photo frame.
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
Yellow, purple, blue, black. An unhealthy colour against his fair skin. He grimaces as he peers at his own back in the mirror. Hesitant fingers touch one of the newer ones on the back of his ribs. A kick gifted him this one. The pain of his injuries are so many, he is so used to them that he easily blocks it all out. Courage after all.
The soundtrack of The Sounds of Music plays around him, and he hums as he spreads balm over the bruises with an almost clinical touch now. Blue eyes are cold as he does this. Pain flares up if he moves in a certain way but he plows on forth. Sue Sylvester may call him Porcelain but he isn't that fragile.
The sound of footsteps up stairs alerts him to pull on a shirt, shoving the balm in a drawer he pins up his bangs and begins moisturizing. A knock on his door, then it opens. He turns and smiles at his father who tells him dinner is nearly ready. He nods along and turns back to his reflection, the door shuts and his smile fades. The music plays behind him, the shirt hides the ugly marks of hatred, and he just stares into the mirror at himself. Blue eyes drift to the side to a photo frame. He breathes in deeply. Courage.
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me
She tilts her head, shutting her locker she turns hearing the reverberating sound of someone slamming into lockers. Was the coach on a rampage again? Not much to rampage on with class in session. No, Sylvester was principal now. She had no reason to rampage like that, she finally had the power seat in the school.
With a combination of reluctance of showing up to Spanish late and curiosity she strode down the hall and peered around the corner. What she saw made her feet cement to the floor and her eyes to widen. With a whispered "fuck" she pulls the strap of her Cheerios duffel bag over her head. Steeling her face she strides forward.
The hall appears empty as she walks, whoever had been there had cleared out quickly. Her eyes were train on a garbage bin however. With each step her eyes narrow trained on a familiar bag lying on the ground near the bin. She stepped passed it with a single glance confirming her suspicions. The Louis Vuitton bag belonged to only one person in WMHS. Kurt Hummel. She stands before the bin and hears a sound coming from inside, she reaches her hand forward and pauses before touching the lid. Shutting her eyes she breaths in deeply and lifts the lid up, she steps closer and looks down. What she finds makes her bite her lip. Pushing the lid back she bends down and picks up the bag on the floor. After shouldering it she glances from the bin to various doors before her.
Finally with one look at the unconscious and broken boy stuffed inside the garbage bin, dark brown eyes take on a determined gleam.
