K2 Save Me From Myself Chapter 2
I awake with Kenny passed out next to me. I smile at the sight. He's snoring, left arm flung over his head. His blonde hair is disheveled and frames his face and lightly drapes over his forehead. He looks so much younger in his sleep, but they say that s true of everyone. The peaceful scene is heartwarming, filling me in a completely ineffable way. Then I shudder as I remember last night. I almost let him kiss me...
I'm so awful. I know he has feelings for me, at least I think he does, and I almost let that happen. The truth is I'm just lonely. I'm in love with someone who's not around anymore. If only he still were...
No matter what, I can't lead Kenny on. I don't care how lonely I get, I'm not going to do something like that to a friend. My best friend, as it turns out. And he's going through such a horrible time right now. I can't add to that pain. I get up and go to take a shower. I think if he woke up with me next to him it would be too much for him. It was hard enough for me to ethically agree to us sleeping in the same bed. At least last night he was drunk. Maybe he won't remember anything when he wakes up.
I turn the water up as hot as it will go. I gasp a little as the warmth envelopes me, practically scalding my tender flesh. It's like the embrace of a lover to me. I stand there for a moment or two, just soaking up as much warmth as I can. I never feel warmth anymore. I'm always cold. No feelings beyond the cold.
I look down at my arms. At the little lines that criss-cross them. Say what you will about Kenny, at least he didn't become a little emo bitch. I shudder at the word. Emo. Cutter. Sick freak. I feel tears, angry and sad, well up in my eyes. No. I won't cry. Not anymore. That's what I cut for, so I don't have to cry. But I can't now...not with Kenny so close by...he might notice.
I don't remember when I started anymore. It seems like I've been this way forever. I guess it was some time after...after he left. And then everyone else moved on with their lives, while I'm still stuck here. Just like Kenny. I'm in college, but I'm not going anywhere. I still don't know what I want to do with my life. Nothing I do has any meaning.
I snicker at myself. What a selfish little bitch I am. Kenny's facing so much more than me, yet I give in to the call of the razor. Granted, he gives in to the call of alcohol, but it somehow seems different.
It's a good thing we live here. I can get away with wearing long sleeves pretty much all the time and no one thinks anything of it. Even if I didn't wear long sleeves, who would care enough to notice something like that? No one sees anything that contradicts what they already believe. Seeing scars on me, the perfect little smart kid, that wouldn't make sense. So people would simply choose not to see it.
But is that true with Kenny? If he saw my arms, would he notice the scars? The imperfection? Would he be able to see me? 'Cause no one else does. No one sees me. So does that mean I don't exist? I don't matter? I'm nothing? The razor beckons to me, to end my silent questioning.
The water's beginning to turn cold. I finish up and get out, wrapping a towel around my waist. I look at my blurry reflection in the fogged up mirror. Heh. What a perfect metaphor. Only able to see an outline, but none of the details, none of what's real. I wipe away a bit of the fog, look at my face. I sigh. I wish I hadn't. I can't stand the sight. Dull green eyes, disgusting bright red hair that refuses to behave, pasty face. I leave the bathroom.
Kenny's awake and sitting up on my bed. He looks awful. His face is pale and his eyes are bloodshot. They blink at me and widen. I remember that I'm not wearing clothes.
"Oh God, sorry! I didn't think you'd be awake!" I exclaim, running into my closet and hiding behind the door. "Just, uh, close your eyes and I'll tell you when I'm dressed." God this is embarrassing. I peek out from behind the door. He covers his eyes with his hands. I pull out clothes and throw them on, not paying attention to what I grab. "Okay, I'm good." He uncovers his eyes. "I'm really sorry."
"It's okay." There's an awkward silence. I shift from one foot to the other. "My head is pounding so fucking bad. Do you have any aspirin?"
"Yeah, sure." I go downstairs, grab a bottle of Advil, and walk back up. I hand him the bottle. He takes it but stares at me. He grabs my arm. Only then do I realize I'm wearing short sleeves...
"...Kyle...what're those?" he asks, shaking my arm slightly to indicate what he means. Like I needed clarification. I bite my lip and avert my eyes. He shakes my arm more roughly. "What the fuck are these?"
"Nothing." I yank my arm out of his grip and turn away from him. I can't bear to see the disgust in his eyes. "It doesn't matter."
"Like hell it doesn't! You've been cutting? Are you serious? For how long?" I still won't look at him. I don't know what to say. He stands and whips me around so that I must look him in the face. His blue eyes flash angrily, a look of fierceness carved into his normally jovial features; this is a look I ve never seen before. I m partially intrigued and also partially frightened. Kenny exudes an air of danger, which is an air I do not want to mess with. "How fucking long?!"
"I...I don't know..." I mumble. I duck my head. I'm so ashamed of myself. What makes me feel even worse is there's nothing I want more right now than to be swiping metal across my arm. "...A year...Maybe longer..."
"God. Why?" I don't answer. What is there to say? It's not like there is a good reason, anything to excuse this sick obsession. I know that it s wrong. I know what a freak it makes me. But I can t seem to stop. "Kyle! Answer me god dammit!"
"I DON'T KNOW!" I scream. I push him away from me. "I don't know! I just can't deal with everything! I can't deal with the sadness and the pain and the fear! One day I just...it just happened. I don't have any excuses. Can you just...just forget about it please?"
"Are you fucking kidding? I'm not going to forget this! And I'm not going to let you do this anymore." He lets go of me and goes searching through my room.
"Wh-what are you doing?" I ask, my voice cracking. He gives me an are-you-fucking-serious look before continuing his search. When he's become sufficiently irritated he turns to me.
"Well? Where is it?" he asks. I know what he's talking about, but I just want to pretend I don't. "Kyle, you better fucking tell me where you keep whatever it is you use. If you don't, I'm going to tell your parents."
"NO!" I gasp. They...God, I don't even know what they would do to me. "You can't...please...I need it..." Kenny barks out a harsh laugh, but there is no humor in the gesture.
"You need it? What are you, a junkie? Tell me where you fucking keep it, Kyle." Tears well up in my eyes. They spill over. I can't help it. I stand there, a sniveling idiot, while my best friend tries to find my razor. How I want it right now. "Kyle, I swear to god."
"It's..." I sniffle, close my eyes. "Right corner of the mattress..." I cover my face as he goes to find my stash of razor blades. I hear him pull up the mattress. I peek through my fingers to see him collecting all the razors that lie there. Some have blood on them. I feel sick. My stomach churns in fear, and I feel like I really might vomit. He slips them in his pocket.
"Are there any more anywhere else?" he asks, his voice shaking with the effort of staying calm. I shake my head, unable to speak. "Good. I'm disposing of these. And I wanna see your arms at least once a week. Any new cuts and I swear I'll rat you out." I cover my face with my hands again. I just want to be cutting right now. Why did this have to happen?
"Why are you doing this to me? They help...more than anything else ever has..." Kenny sighs and comes toward me. He pulls my hands away from my face.
"This is for your own good. You'll thank me for this some day. Next time you need to cut, come talk to me, okay?" I don't respond. He hugs me, but I don't move at all. When he lets go I turn around so I don't have to look at him.
"Please just go...I want to be alone." He sighs, but does as I ask. He leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him. I am alone in my room. I slowly sink to the floor and sob into my hands.