The next day at school, Gordo wore a long sleeved flannel shirt. He
walked into school with his head down, heading straight for the library,
attempting to avoid all friends and teachers. Once there, he found the
nearest table, sat down and took out his history book. Opening it to page
35 he began reading, silently, trying to hide from the world around him.
However, thoughts kept sneaking past his guard. Pausing to glance up at
the clock, he began thinking about how, when he woke up at four o'clock
this morning, his father was gone. Gordo was scared, somehow, deep within.
He knew both of his parents wouldn't leave him, but if that were true,
where's his father? Then the issue of the note kept creeping into his
mind. What did it say? Why was she leaving? Quickly, Gordo darted his
eyes back towards his paper, pushing all these thoughts away from his mind.
It was now gym class. This was where Gordo got to spend alone time with Lizze. Yet, today, he didn't want to see her. He was terrified she'd see right through his facade. That she'd spout out, concern blatantly spread across her face, "Gordo, what's wrong? What's happened to you? What are you doing to yourself?". Then, as he thought about this cautiously, he began to realize that he was more terrified of the fact that she'd see nothing. That she'd go right along with whatever he said. When he'd say, "I'm okay", she'd reply, "cool", and that would be that. He was so terrified that what happened last night, wouldn't be a one time event. That what he did went much deeper. That whatever scar was left, would be no deeper than the one already left on his heart. As a nauseus feeling saturated his entire body, he began to dread seeing Lizzie more than ever. How she would hate hime if she ever found out . . . and how he would hate her if she didn't. Terrified now, he ran off to the field, not waiting for her as he normally did. The rest of the day, he completely avoided her as well. When he got home, he unplugged the phone. There was no use for it anyhow, his father still wasn't home. There would be no calls for him.
As the picture of night slowly settled into the window view, Gordo began preparing for bed. First by showering, then brushing his teeth, then putting on some boxer shorts, his usual nighttime wear. Finally, he took out some time to read "Loss of Breath", by Poe. Yet tonight, lying on his bed, slightly proped up with his three pillows, he could not concentrate on the story. There was too much pain circulating through his veins. The feeling grew stronger and stronger to release it. Just let out a little bit. One more cut. 'Just one more time, and then never again,' Gordo thought to himself. Listlessly, he pulled himself out of bed, carelessly letting the book fall through the crack between the bed and the wall. Slowly, he made his way over to the candle holder that held a buttercream scented candle, and the razor. Hastily grabbing it up, he sat down on his desk, pulled up a leg of his boxers, revealing the skinny, sallow leg beneath. Closing his eyes, gritting his teeth, he endulged his sinful pleasure, laughing out loud, through the tears of guilt and shame.
It was now gym class. This was where Gordo got to spend alone time with Lizze. Yet, today, he didn't want to see her. He was terrified she'd see right through his facade. That she'd spout out, concern blatantly spread across her face, "Gordo, what's wrong? What's happened to you? What are you doing to yourself?". Then, as he thought about this cautiously, he began to realize that he was more terrified of the fact that she'd see nothing. That she'd go right along with whatever he said. When he'd say, "I'm okay", she'd reply, "cool", and that would be that. He was so terrified that what happened last night, wouldn't be a one time event. That what he did went much deeper. That whatever scar was left, would be no deeper than the one already left on his heart. As a nauseus feeling saturated his entire body, he began to dread seeing Lizzie more than ever. How she would hate hime if she ever found out . . . and how he would hate her if she didn't. Terrified now, he ran off to the field, not waiting for her as he normally did. The rest of the day, he completely avoided her as well. When he got home, he unplugged the phone. There was no use for it anyhow, his father still wasn't home. There would be no calls for him.
As the picture of night slowly settled into the window view, Gordo began preparing for bed. First by showering, then brushing his teeth, then putting on some boxer shorts, his usual nighttime wear. Finally, he took out some time to read "Loss of Breath", by Poe. Yet tonight, lying on his bed, slightly proped up with his three pillows, he could not concentrate on the story. There was too much pain circulating through his veins. The feeling grew stronger and stronger to release it. Just let out a little bit. One more cut. 'Just one more time, and then never again,' Gordo thought to himself. Listlessly, he pulled himself out of bed, carelessly letting the book fall through the crack between the bed and the wall. Slowly, he made his way over to the candle holder that held a buttercream scented candle, and the razor. Hastily grabbing it up, he sat down on his desk, pulled up a leg of his boxers, revealing the skinny, sallow leg beneath. Closing his eyes, gritting his teeth, he endulged his sinful pleasure, laughing out loud, through the tears of guilt and shame.
