Okay, I know I should be updating MTL (yup, totally using acronyms now), but I'm kinda… in a bit of a sticky wicket. But, I give you another horrible piece of writing, written by yours truly.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the song, the boys, or the headphones I'm wearing. Sorry!
Warning: Depression, mentions of rape, potential triggers. Consider yourself warned.
It was Kendall's 14th birthday and everyone was having a great time.
Except for Kendall.
Instead of playing with his best friends or eating the cake, he sitting was upstairs in his room, watching his kid sister and her friends run around in the backyard from his window. He saw his sister tackle one of her cousins playing flag football, and he knew he should be happy. This was supposed to be his day! So, why was he so damn unhappy?
The better question would be: why wasn't he?
Kendall's a walking nightmare, that's why. He's a mess. He's a disaster. And he's so fucking tired. He knows why, too. There's no way he could forget it. It followed him around, chasing him. It reminds him of those cartoons, where the person is having such a bad day so, just for the hell of it, they think This day couldn't get any worse! but then, it starts raining. And that raincloud just follows them around, only raining on them- not anyone else. That's how this was. It was always with him, day and night. It affected everything: School. Friends. Even his relationship with his family. It followed him into his dreams, turning fields of flowers into flames and dark shadows. It made him feel helpless.
It made him feel disgusting. All because of one person, who he hopes is damned into the deepest pit in hell.
It made him feel trapped. Choked. He wanted to forget- he tried so hard to forget, but this wasn't something anyone could forget. It had him encased, trapping him with the grace of a gazelle and the anger of a lion. It was always there. There was no getting rid of it.
A person has to be pretty sick, he thinks, to do something like this. He's always known that. But it doesn't make him any less angry. Angry at himself. Angry at his molester, and-
Angry.
Suddenly, he's furious. Furious at everyone. Furious at the judge for giving the man that caused this only two years of house arrest. He's furious at his father for leaving him when he needed him most. He's furious at his friends for not understanding. He's furious at everything.
Kendall doesn't realize he's moved until he's at the opposite end of his room, holding a picture frame in his hands. He cradles it for a moment, looking at himself. Then suddenly, the picture is crashing against one of the walls, and there's glass everywhere. He looks at the frame as it shatters, glass falling like rain. It sparkles as the light hits it, creating the illusion of diamonds.
Diamonds.
Then he thinks of James. The same James who he taught to skate when they were six. The James who taught him how to sing a week later. The James who found him in the bathroom when he was bleeding and dirty and beyond broken.
Then he's crying. No, not crying. Kendall doesn't actually know what the hell he's doing. He can feel the stinging in his eyes and the tightness in his chest and throat. He can feel his shoulders shaking. But there are no tears. None. The fact that he can't even find the strength to produce a few damned tears makes him feel frustrated- so beyond frustrated. It knocks the breath out of him and makes him feel winded and lethargic. And, yet again, he realizes this is another one of those feelings that's always there.
It's like a ticking clock. No, not a clock. A bomb. It just ticks and ticks and ticks. What if one day the ticking stops? What happens? There will be a noise, like a sharp pain. Like the screeching of a sharpened fingernail on a chalkboard. He'll be in a trance, and then he'll just snap. He already has. The part that makes him the saddest is the fact that either no one has seemed to notice, or they've chosen to ignore it. Suddenly, Kendall hears a scream and it takes him a moment to realize that this utterly broken sound is coming from him. His hands cover his ears, trying to block out this terrifying noise, but he can still hear it.
Someone's running.
There's a knock at the door.
Why won't you open the door, Kendall?
"No more!" he yells at the door.
Let them in, Kendall.
"No more!"
No more what, Kendall?
We just want to help you, Kendall.
"STOP IT!" he screeches.
Bang. Bang. BANG!
Crack.
The door's down, Kendall.
"I know."
It's your mom and friends, Kendall. Why won't you talk to them? They just want to help.
We just want to help, Kendall. You need help.
"I don't need your help."
Yes you do, Kendall. Let us help.
Help. Help. Help, help. Help, help, help.
The word echoes in his mind. It repeats itself, over and over again until it's barely recognizable.
Helphelphelphelphelp.
"No more. No more help."
Somehow, he finds himself staring at the ceiling. He can hear their voices. He can hear them talking. It sounds muted, though. He can't make out everything, just single words here and there.
Can… take…you…
Where…find…anywhere…
He can't make any sense out of it, so he doesn't try to. He lets his mother and friends help him. He can feel himself moving, and then he's looking at the wall again. He sees the picture on the ground and he knows they have, too. They've seen it and instead they ran to him.
"Why?"
Why what, Kendall?
"Why me?"
Kendall's eyes begin to feel heavy and instead of hearing their answer, he closes his eyes and let's himself float away into a deep sleep.
A deep sleep with too many dreams.
It's been a week since his birthday disaster and Kendall is back at home. Back in his bedroom. And back to his window. This time, though, as he looks out, there's no one there. No Katie playing flag football. No cousins getting tackled. The only thing outside his window is a large tree. As he looks out, he sees that he could easily sneak out if he wanted.
So he does.
He doesn't even know what's possessed him to climb out his window and jump on the tree, causing him to almost fall twenty-something feet to the ground. He latches onto the branch and somehow manages to find his way to the trunk and shimmy his way downwards until his feet hit the ground. He walks out through the gate that leads to the front of his house, and then he just walks. He doesn't even know where he's going until he's at the front door of a house, ringing the doorbell.
When the owner of the house opens the door and asks him what he's doing there, he answers honestly.
"I don't know."
They invite him to come in, so he does.
"I'm sorry," Kendall says.
"What do you mean?" they ask, confused.
"I don't even know why you're my friend."
"Because I love you, Kendall."
"Why, Logan? Why?" he asks.
"You're like my brother, man. I love you. Always have, always will."
Just like that, he breaks down. This time is different, though. This time, there are tears. He doesn't understand why he couldn't cry before, but he doesn't focus on that. He feels a pair of arms wrap around him, pulling him in until they're practically cradling him. He hears Logan's calming words as he cries.
Usually Kendall would've pulled away. He's hated being held ever since that day. But he would never pull away from Logan.
Never.
So instead he let Logan hold him. He let him murmur those comforting words. And he let down his walls and let the floodgates open.
"I'm s-so s-s-sorry, Logie," he sniffled as he cried.
"You don't need to be sorry, Kendall. Just let it all out," Logan whispered to him, rubbing small, soothing circles on his back.
"I don't kn-know what t-to d-do. I just feel so… angry, and I don't think I sh-should. I shouldn't, r-r-right? I mean, it's been f-four years since h-he-" Kendall cut himself off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Instead he said "Sometimes, I j-just want to see him again. T-to have him in front of me, just so I can h-h-hurt him. I want to hurt him like h-he hurt me. I th-think about it a lot, too. I even dream about it s-s-sometimes. But I shouldn't be having these thoughts or those dr-dreams. I mean, I don't think I should. It's bad, isn't it? I… I don't even fucking know anymore!" he wailed, burying his face in Logan's shoulder.
"It's not bad. What you're feeling, it's not wrong. Whatever you're experiencing is just that- an experience. Some experiences are painful and disturbing, some are not. That is all. There's nothing bad or wrong about what you are experiencing, okay, Kendall?" Logan took a deep breath, and Kendall swore he saw tears in his friend's eyes. "I don't blame you for wanting to hurt the man that did this to you because, honestly, I want to hurt him too. So badly. What he did to you is so wrong and no one should have to go through what you did. But you're strong- so strong, that it's unbelievable. Incredible."
"Really?"
"Really. I can't say I'm surprised though. You've always been the strong one. You're our leader, and you are so brave and inspiring," Logan said with a small smile. "You never cease to amaze us."
So maybe Kendall was hurt. Maybe he was angry. But he wasn't broken, not anymore. Because slowly, he is fixing himself with the help of his three best friends. With them, he could do anything. He finally felt like, even though that man didn't get what he deserved, he was going to show him that he didn't own Kendall. Not one bit.
So, I fail at ending these things. I feel like that could've been written out better. Oh well…
PS- I have a poll for those of you who are reading "Making the List", so go ahead and vote!
Love &Rockets,
Hannah Jay