And the next chapter… :)
Chapter 15
Lifeless Lies
Shattered
December, 16, 2009
Lie
The sun gleams.
It burns my skin.
The sky's blue and white.
I'm all navy and black.
Bruises. Pain. Hostile kisses.
The leaves are green.
They're laughing at me on the inside.
I sit up only to fall back down onto the bed and I feel as if I can't control my body, too as I look at Richards, blinking and staring, feeling and fearing, bleeding hearts and broken lives, and I walk towards the bathroom, showering as quick as I could, leaning towards the ground and slipping into thick, black clothing.
I don't know.
All this time—there's a feeling in me that tells me that something's missing, as if there's something that should've completed me, but I don't know what it is. I don't know. I feel empty what whatever it is.
But part of me insists that I've always been empty.
It's a hard feeling to describe.
I walk towards my room and sit down, snuggling into my bed as I feel a hand creeping up my shoulder and pushing me closer to him, 'are you always up this early?" he asks me, his voice sleek and smooth, with darkness covers and coating every inch of his words as I press my head deeper towards the white pillow.
Everything just doesn't have a color.
It's like all the colors are lost.
And there's nothing left…but blackness.
Dark blackness that's threatening to pull us both into a whirl of horror and agony and terror and I don't know why I just said us…is there someone else I know of that I've been dragging down with me in a hole?
Why am I so confused? Why do I feel like there's a missing part of me?
I try to shake the thoughts out of my head but it nags me, harder and harder, purging me into deep depression of black and darkness, of horror and terror, of fear and trauma, it's like the more I try to avoid it, the harder it purges me.
I don't know how much I've spent just trying to think.
I stand up, trying to walk but I feel something hit me. Something pricks me. It's quick but painful. I slip my hand towards the pockets of my jeans and look at it… Peginterferon alfa-2a?
A label rests on it.
THEODORE DIBIASE JR.
(Hep C patient)
I try to digest this little piece of information that I've always known. Somehow. It's like my memories are crumpled by each other. They just don't make sense anymore. I look up as Richards walks towards me and rips the syringe away from my hands and looks at it. "Hepatitis?"
I nod my head, staring at him, blankly.
He presses me down under the bed and punctures me to my wrist. "Can't have you sick," he says, walking off, leaving the syringe on the floor and I look at my hands, bleeding, bleeding drastically.
I don't really care anymore.
I take the syringe and walk towards the drawer, opening it and throwing it there before I realize how the blood's staining everything I touch. I rip the short sleeve of my t-shirt and lean back down onto my bed, wrapping the sleeve around my hand and staring as the blood stains the piece of cloth harder.
I pretend not to care but the blood is pooling still.
I walk down, trying not to think about it, as I feel his hand take my arm and press me against the wall, holding me down instantly, even though a part of me thinks that I can fight him—can I?
A aqua liquid's in his hands.
He presses it down to my neck and I stare at him. My mind's screaming but my body's so detached from my mind that I'm standing still as he steps back. "There," he says and I have an urge to ask him why he hit me with that but I don't.
I stare at the aqua liquid and my heart starts to thump in my chest.
It reminds me of water.
It just isn't.
"Why?"
"I'll tell you later."
It's my body and he won't tell me what he's put in it? It's expected. That's what my body says but my mind's screaming. Confused. Completely fizzled out and confused as I walk towards the chair and sit down.
He shoves a bowl of porridge towards me, and I look at it before shaking my head. "You're eating that, skinny bitch."
I look down at my body but no. I'm the opposite of the word he used. I'm bloated. Absolutely bloated.
I shake my head and shove the bowl towards it.
"You don't eat that. You'll probably die by the end of the week."
I shake my head again, trying not to think about it as I stand up and fall down almost instantly. I look up at him. "Is that what that stuff was?" I ask, as I struggle to stand up but fall back down.
"No. This is because you don't eat anything. Let me put this in simple terms. With food, you can function. Without it, especially for this long, your brain cannot function…at all. You're lucky I even like you. Anyone who looks at you right now will scream."
I nod my head again as I press my head towards my knees, curling up into a ball seems so expected of me as I stare at him.
"I can't believe I have to do this."
"If he touches you ever again…"
He takes my arms and pulls me to my feet, making me want to fall off as I adjust to the voice in my head…it sounds very, very familiar, but at the same time, it's also a stranger's voice. He pushes me towards the chair and forces me to eat. Again and again, making my stomach slosh and my mind protest.
"Stop! Please!"
My words are nothing to him.
Two voices inside of my head. They're all against you, aren't they?
"Don't listen…"
One I'm used to. It's my eating disorder voice. The other…it's familiar but a stranger's. It really is. I try to probe through my head but it's like I can't access the memory. No matter how hard I tried.
"I need to put you into therapy."
I stare at him.
I don't really care.
It's just that the voice…so familiar…
Why don't I recognize it? Why is that memory blocked from my head?
Why am I not alive anymore?
I've tried
December, 17, 2009
To
I hate therapy.
It's like they're trying to take away the only thing I can control. The only thing I can control is my body. My head's all messed up. My life's all messed up. It's the only thing I can control and they're taking it away from me.
Why does everyone hate me…?
"Theodore. That's your name, right?"
I nod my head as I sit down onto a cot and look straight at my therapist. She's around thirty-something and she's blonde, with streaks of brown hair, and her flesh's a mixture of pale and peach.
"Okay, Theodore. Listen to me. Says here you've been suffering for anorexia for about two to three months, is that correct?"
I slowly nod my head but I'm too unsure.
I want this to be over so I can control in my head. Being in therapy makes me feel as if there's something horribly wrong with me. I don't want to feel that way. I already know that I'm broken.
Why does she try to fix me?
I know that I can't be fixed.
I just can't be fixed.
It's just that way.
It's always been this way.
"Why do you think you've developed anorexia?"
"Because of my father's death. Then I figure out he doesn't even like me…" my voice's dull and broken. Dark and distorted, 'why do you care? I don't even know you."
I'm shocked at my own tone but it just pains me knowing that I have to open myself up to a person who does this all the time, who won't really care if I'm sick or I'm fine. This person just sees horror all the time. She won't care if I've tried to kill myself or if I've killed my parents or anything…
"And you've been restraining food because…?"
"Because it's the only damn thing I can control! I can't control my life. I can't control how I break or who breaks me. I can't control my own freaking mind and it's all to pieces…this is the only thing I can control…" the emotions just pour out. Even if I don't want them too. It's just another thing I can't control.
It happens when it happens.
At the end of the session, she looks at me with pretend to be sorrowful eyes as she reads her diagnosis from her clipboard.
"You have anorexia brought on by depression. In this case, you blame yourself for the things that happen around you, and you're restraining yourself from food because it's a slow, painful death and your brain believes that you should be dead."
"I don't want to get any better."
Knowing what or how or why I have my eating disorder doesn't make it go away. It doesn't make me want to get better. It just doesn't.
I don't want to recover.
I just don't.
I want to die.
I want to be driven over the edge.
Why are they trying to fix what always stays broken?
To be alright.
Why am I so incomplete?
December, 18, 2009
Me
Lies.
They are so many lies in the world.
I'm lying to myself right now.
I say that I'll stay broken.
When the truth is: I'm shattered.
I say that I want to die.
When the truth is: I want to suffer.
Everything's just in black and white and I try to lie to myself that there's a color behind the gray lines and black clouds and white oceans.
I'm drowning.
I walk down the street, taking a cool bottle of water with me after Richards had shoved food down my throat again and it's like the world's all messy and broken and shattered and I feel as if they're not supposed to be that way.
Is there something wrong with my eyes?
Is there something wrong with me?
Then why do I see everything as if it's supposed to be in black, white and gray? Why do I break just by thinking?
My body bumps into another one's.
I look at it.
My heart thuds.
My head's spinning.
The eyes I look into are turquoise with a faint hint of gray overtaking them—sad eyes. The body I look into is tanned and muscular. The hair's dark. It's…
"Cody?"
"Ted?"
Cody instantly hugs me. "Oh, Randy and I missed you so much! We were completely miserable without you."
He steps back and there's a trace of gleefulness in his eyes. A smudge of happiness and I don't know why I'm so important anymore.
"Randy?"
"Yes, Randy!"
Why do I always hear that name? Randy? I don't know anyone named Randy! Though a part of my head insists that I do.
He takes my hand and basically drags me from the happiness that's burning inside of his eyes.
I feel sad.
Knowing that I might break those eyes later on. That he might get hurt because of me. I don't know. It just hurts.
He takes me towards this guy named Randy.
His blue eyes.
His tan skin.
His smile.
It's all familiar…but nothing clicks. No memories. Nothing. Cody pushes me towards Randy who instantly takes me into his arms and kisses my forehead. "Oh, Ted…it's been horrible without you. I swear."
I look at him, confused and he seems to see that confusion because he asks me, 'is there something wrong, Ted?"
I shake my head.
He hugs me, and I look at him. "You're crushing me."
He lets go and I fall back down towards the ground as I take a deep breath and Cody helps me up, helping me as I slip down towards his body. Randy walks towards me and takes me from Cody's loose grip.
"Ted…there's something wrong, isn't there?"
I don't why I said it but it just slips off my tongue.
"I don't know who you are."
I wish I'd lied.
Because the truth…just breaks and hurts.
Why am I so broken?
So Ted's reunited with Randy and Cody at the end…how long will it stay that way? Review?? I like reviews... :P Had to say something stupid, right??
;) Sam
