Soft steps crunched along broken up gravel roads, I was mindlessly wandering again. Trees towered above both sides of me, the wind rustling newly green leaves. Everything bathed in an orange glow as the sun set, even the shaded areas hidden by greedy trees soaking up the sun had an orange tint to it's darkness. As the wind swept through the small Maine town and the leaves danced to it's whispers, small gaps of sunlight shined through, leaving patches of warm spots along the road. As I neared my driveway I couldn't help but compare my sudden observations of these warm spots to my illness.
I often walked, it's what I did to sort out thoughts in my head. Along roads, wandering aimlessly through the deep woods, even simply pacing in my own room to music and fast thoughts that melded together in an out-of-control beat. It was most often though, I was outside and walking. Somewhere I didn't know. Somewhere I couldn't hurt myself or anyone else. Somewhere talking to myself wouldn't be judged. And I often came across these warm spots, being in the heavily wooded area.
When I originally began to walk and I came across them, I would stand in that spot, enjoying that light and warmth. It never lasted, and soon cool shade would wash over me again just as the wind came by and changed the leaves positions. After awhile of stopping and walking again to find another spot of warmth, I became almost resenting of these warm spots. After all the cold was so much colder after comparing it to the warmth of the sun. And once it left, I wanted nothing to find another warm spot, which would sometimes take awhile to find again. So I avoided them, I just walked along in my unhappy chilled state. Eventually I would go home and just tuck myself inside and curl up for warmth. Once even, I had a friend over, and when we took a walk to just gossip, She stopped to enjoy the warmth I stared in envy. I even told her I was feeling that way. And she laughed, and hugged me, and just before she could pull me back to the spot where the sunlight shone through the darkness as she told me how silly I was, it disappeared.
That relates to depression in a way, doesn't it? Maybe not. Suddenly what I thought what might be deep and a meaningful representation my mind began to pick at and make fun of. Surely a 17 year old know-nothing like me wouldn't say anything worth well... Anything. I found my way inside the large house, immediately I heard kids yelling and the sound of boiling water being splashed into a colander. I always liked that sound of steam making an almost hissing noise as it found it's freedom. As you might figure, we ate a lot of dollar store macaroni when I was young. Maybe that's why I'm all messed up now. Maybe it's just that seventeen year old teenage hormone thing. I gave a wave to mom from the kitchen, but she didn't see me. I didn't have the energy to say anything, much less hold a conversation or eat, so instead I just plodded my way to my room.
My room was... Well trashed. Half my room was cabinets and storage for makeup, a large desk was covered in palettes and more lipsticks than you would need in your life. The other half was a large bed and clothes, you couldn't tell what was clean from what was dirty I had tried on so many outfits in the morning I probably couldn't tell you either. Anyone who would come into my room would have probably asked why I has so many different sized clothes all mixed together and strewn around. I suppose it's because my mind was still hoping one day my body will magically shrink back to the day I fit into size 3 jeans. I'd try them on every day just in case. I knew better though, not only that I wasn't losing weight, but I wasn't allowed to. I'd take it one step too far again and I'd end up in the hospital.
Anyone in my room would also notice the one wall covered in modge podge magazine ads, and they would probably think I was shallow. Only when it comes to myself I suppose, but it makes it no better. I was a makeup artist afterall. I had to care. Dropping my purse on the floor I flopped to my bed. Pushing off strewn about clothes and wrapping myself half-haphazardly in the soft comfort of my favorite blanket. I tried to list off things I needed to get up and do. Call Maxxie, do my Advanced Communications II homework, take a shower, eat. But just today... Today was hard. Some days were better than others and this wasn't it. I had to change my mindset. My face nuzzled deeper into my blankets, they were beginning to warm up to my body temperature. Just a nap. I only needed to escape reality a little bit. Tomorrow... Tomorrow I'd be good... I faintly heard my mother call for supper. But the words didn't completely register, and my breathing was slowing... It was so comfortable. Finally I let go of the worries of the day, and felt my body completely relax.
A boisterous laughter vibrated through the wooden door, drowning out my soft knock. The familiar voices though waved away my nervousness, and gave me the strength to bring my hand up this time to the metal knocker, and let it drop down with a loud thud. It was almost mystical, standing in a large hotel with detailed paintings set in ornate metal frames. The scent of lilac wafted the halls, vases overflowing with the fragrant purple flowers set atop of dark wooden tables. It wasn't the inside of the hotel though that held my interests though, it was the beauty of the city. It was my first time in the UK, and I lived in the sticks of Maine, so here everything was... Brighter. Better. I had been attracted to the city like moth to flame. Although it did nothing but harm for my addiction to shopping, it made me feel like hope lay here. Hope for a chance. At a career, at new friendships, at love. It was hope that I could feel, even though I myself hoped for nothing. The hope of other people radiated through me.
The door clicked to unlock, and brought me out of my thoughts. It reminded me my hand was aching, I glanced down at my left arm carrying the weight of three plastic bags. I went out for food, I think? Oreos, icecream and coffee brandy. It would make the best shakes in the damn world, wait... Was it legal of me to buy alcohol here? Where did I even go again? The door opened and standing in front of me was a man I couldn't recognize. I felt my face get hot with embarrassment. "Am I... This? Uh..." I choked out, his brown hair was swept carelessly to one side. I avoided his face and looked at his shoes instead. They were converse, completely casual as his entire outfit was. He wore dark jeans that almost seemed a little too short, revealing skin because of his ankle socks and a green teeshirt with some graphic on it I didn't recognize. "Sorry wrong room I think." I muttered. My mouth was dry. Anxiety buzzed through me, negative thoughts I tried to ignore. It was just a wrong room. Im not stupid because I made a single mistake.
"What are you talking about? It's me, Kat."
I looked up, his eyes were shining hazel. He looked so happy to see me, like he knew me. But I... I didn't recognize him at all. His voice though. So very familiar. I looked down at the bags. He reached over and grabbed them, tugging them off my arm. Leaving me to staring down at my black Lolita shoes and knee highs. I tugged at the edge of my red dress, suddenly with a weird feeling I looked indecent. An anxiety that something may be on my back, or maybe toilet paper was on my shoe. Maybe my dress was too short. Did I look like a... Slut? Uh, were people were laughing behind me, laughing at the stupid, chubby girl who couldn't possibly have any reason to be in a wealthy hotel lik-?
"Awh, come on, you are being so mean." The mans voice was almost child like, it seemed he had done it on purpose. Made it to sound almost funny. It was so... So very familiar. I had followed him inside, although didn't really remember walking. It was beautiful, the windows were open wide, and there was a kitchen and bar, connected to a large living room with a couch and large tv. And here I was making up 'truths' to myself that may be right or wrong, but really, what did it matter? Why should I care? And... Why were there flower petals drifting in the air like a fucking anime? Why was I in here?
"Who are you?" I managed, but for some reason I struggled to get the words out, my mouth felt like cotton, and I was looking at the shiny silver watch on his left wrist as he set up a blender to make some milk-shakes. I love milkshakes. They be classy and fab. If he was making me a milk shake then why did it matter? Wait is that what kids think before they get kidnapped because they crawled in a truck for candy?
"You don't remember me? Did you hit your head?" He looked almost concerned. Like I was his friend and I had hurt him. His voice had even gotten serious. Why are you concerned about someone like me? Who in the hell are you? When I didn't respond he put down the cover to the blender and took a quick step to me. It startled me when his hand came up near my face. I flinched as he pressed the back of his palm to my forehead. It had been nothing less than gentle, but my heart beat rapidly anyway. I felt weak at the knees. The PTSD really still effected me. It really did. I reached up with shaky fingers to touch his wrist, opening my mouth to say something. But he spoke first. "You don't have a fever." He looked confused a moment, but quickly lit up. "Ah, I know! I'll be right back." And like a whirl wind he blew by me, and I was left staring at my hands. He was certainly a... Cheerful fellow. But... Why did I come here in the first place? Why am I in the UK again? My head ached. Probably to get away from something right? I'm always running away. I need to start manning up... And taking my meds regularly at that. Were there actual flowers in the air or...?
"Ta-da!" The voice was loud from behind me and I spun on my heels, nose-to-nose with a man I didn't think I knew. Who was wearing a mask. I took a step back. "Please Sir I-..." I stared at the back, slowly taking another step back. "I... Oh..." I reached out to touch the mask. "I know you." It was a basic face of the unamused emoji. Two dots for eyes and a line for the mouth. I know him from... Somewhere. Somewhere important. He... He took the strap off the back of his hair and tossed it to the side.
"Yeah you do!" He laughed, walking by me again. Man, why was he so fast? Most people were compared to me, but it seemed different somehow. He was rustling around drawers behind me again, trying to find a Sp00n. (;D) "I invited you over to watch that scary movie. Remember? Bloody Mary? I haven't seen the second version either." His voice was calm as he worked, but I couldn't help but to turn again and look him over. Maxxie. No it couldn't be... But. Maxxie! Ah my best friend Maxxie, who had just turned 8. This was Cry, his idol right? I watched the videos too, hadn't I? Why is my memory so fuzzy? Was I drunk?
His dark square framed glasses were slowly sliding down his face comically as he tried to scoop out the very frozen icecream into the blender. He was so... Normal looking. He wasn't ripped or had perfect shiny hair or a complexion of porcelain. It was shocking. It was relief. A man behind a mask who was so kind and funny all the time, seeing his actual face took him down a peg from that mysterious, glorified position he was somehow better than me and just made him a person. An actual, right there person. A person maybe I thought I knew a little bit about. A person I kinda wanted to hang with. I no longer questioned the weird circumstance, but instead asked a different type of question. "So, should I just call you Cry or do you prefer I call you by your first name?"
Putting the cap on the blender he sighed. "I prefer to be called Cry the same way you prefer to be called Kat." He gave me a sideways glance. "You are kinda freaking me out a little though. You make it sound like you actually don't remember me. Martzia introduced us a little while back, remember? We played video games at her place just a week ago!" No I didn't. No I don't know you. But I do. But I... Don't. I... I felt bad, because he did look a little freaked, his eyebrows creating little wrinkled worry lines that set in his young skin.
"Yes." I lied softly, I felt guilty if I lied and if I didn't, I closed my eyes a second. I made it worse by faking a laugh "Got you." I said, faking a humor that almost hurt me. "You should have seen your face!" I was a terrible liar, which is funny because always people seemed to believe me. Or maybe they just wanted to.
"You did! You little-" He laughed, I heard clanging. I ran over to the couch and jumped it. Had I really decided on Bloody Mary? I'm a little bitch when it comes to horror. Everyone knew that. But Blood Mary, when I was young some kids had scared me with it. Ugh, I shuddered. But if Blood Mary came they'd definitely get Cry first, I'd just freeze in terror. Cry may try to fight. Evil psycho murderers always liked the fighting spirits, right?
I sat on the couch and turned to look at him, he had two milk shakes in his hand and was coming this way. I just met a new friend and I was already planning his death by ghost. My fingers clutched the couch, searching the planes of his face. He looked at me with a single eyebrow raised, and then made a face.
That was when I remembered, I was on Prendasoine. A steriod to calm my immune system that constantly attacked itself. It can ruin memory, and I had memory loss once before on it. But it was only a week, then I went to my doctor. It sounded like Cry had known me longer. Plus I didn't often talk to Martzia either so maybe... Had I forgotten a lot of my life? How old was I?
"Psh, didn't like my face?" Cry's voice was child-like again. It was something similar to what my brother did. I lifted my hand to take the milkshake.
"Don't psh at me boy. You and your ankle socks are peasants!" I sipped the milkshake and posed royally. Sitting up if I were a dominate Queen.
"You can insult me, hell you can insult my milkshakes, but don't bring my ankle socks into this!" He played, his over-acting was playful. I could feel a pang of something familiar in my heart, but I laughed, and pointed to the window anyway.
"Cry look to see!"
"See what?"
"The boys!"
"What boys?"
"The ones that must be in our yard!"
"W- Oh." He gave me the typical 'Oh come on.' look at my terrible, overused joke. But I laughed again, turning to look at the TV. I was incredibly confused to how I got here, but it was almost as if my loneliness cut off reality and I just hoped to have a friend.
"Hey why are you so upset all the time?" His familiar voice seemed to change a little. I turned to look at him, suddenly the room was turning dark, and I was scared. "Yeah, I know sometimes life sucks and sometimes everything feels like it's going down hill. But if you give up, how many people would that effect?" Black mist began to cover the windows, seep through the cracks and into the room. " ...And I'm not saying do it for them either, do it for you. Live for you. You won't be lonely forever, I mean, dude look where you live. It's no New York City. Thats where you want to go right? In a school of 600 it's hard to make a lot of friends, but in a place of millions it'll be easy." The mist was every where between us. I couldn't think, I was... buzzing? I reached out to grab his shirt away from the mist, and it melted beneath my cold fingers like acid it burned into my left arm. It burned! I jumped back, and he grabbed me. Held me? " And if you really don't think you can do it anymore, then just reach out, okay? Just reach out and find help... And... People are here for you. It's not like you dont have any friends."
His face was twisting, it was nothing but a blur of colors as he spoke, all around me was colors. Mix of green and black and brown and hazels blending to color the black background that misted around me. My hand was buzzing, the same hand carrying those groceries. It hurt so bad. My face was burning. Was I crying? I tried to say something, "You are... My friend right?!" I yelled, but it only came out as a whisper. I had to choke the words out. Was I finally dying?
"It was lovely to meet you." I couldn't even see his mouth now. Just swirls of color and the almost musical tone to his voice.
I tried to say something... Anything. I was scared. I was... Confused. But it wouldn't leave my lips. I tried harder and harder, burning in my face, my arm becoming almost numb to the buzzing pain, I could feel a build up in my chest. Angry the words wouldn't leave my lips as the colors began to fade darker.
And like a bomb my words resounded around the room as I finally burst and cried "Thank you!"
So loud in fact I woke myself up, and I was left staring, breathing heavily into the morning. My entire room was black except for a stream of light peaking between my curtain and the wall, just enough light to leave a warm spot across my face and cold hands. And I wept.