"Hello? Is this the Strider household?" Those were the first words I heard this morning before I heard Dirk open the door to our apartment.
I knew right away that this was no ordinary visitor. Oh no. This was someone "special". This was Jake fucking English... Boyfriend to my asshole of a brother, Dirk.
Ok... Maybe I am being a bit of a douche right now... But what do you expect?! All I've heard for the past three and a half weeks is how "great" and "wonderful" the guy is and I'm sick of it!
The worst part? I get to spend a whole two weeks with Jake living under OUR roof. Like seriously? What the fuck?! Don't I get a say in this?!
No. Of course I don't. I'm just a kid. I don't get a say in ANY of this! All that matters is that Dirk and Jake are happy while I'm stuck in my room, sad and depressed.
"Hey Dave! Come out here!" Dirk's voice. No. No fucking way am I going out the-
"Dave! Get your ass out here and say hi to our guest!"
And then I can't help what happens next.
Yeah.. I come out of my room. But am I nice? Hell no. Instead, my voice is cold and my shade covered eyes stare straight through Dirk and his adventurous piece of shit boyfriend. "Hi Jake. I'm Dave. Thought I'd let you know that since I can guess that Dirk probably doesn't talk about me much. If you need me, I'll be in my bedroom but hey, try not to need me because I'm really NOT in the mood to talk to YOU or anyone else. Goodbye and I hope you enjoy your stay."
I then stomp back to my bedroom, Dirk's voice loud as he calls me a "disrespectful little shit" and I slam the door and lock it. I then plop down, face first onto my bed, tears welling up in my eyes. I want to call John... Like I have been almost every three days since the incident with the cafeteria knife at school... But I don't. I don't because I don't want Dirk or Jake hearing me. I don't because I know I'm an annoyance to John. And I don't because it just makes me look weak and useless.
I am useless though.
I cry... I find my razor blade... and I call John. I do this almost on a schedule and it's starting to get old but I can't stop. Unlike eating... I stopped that no problem.
Dirk would bring me food... I'd throw it out the apartment window. On nights he made me eat with him... I'd swallow every bit... Go to the bathroom... And gag myself until the food was brought up and out of my stomach. I didn't feel the greatest the first few times I did it... But now it's nothing. Now I don't feel any of it. And you know what..? No one realizes what's happening either. Not even John and Karkat.
I go to school... focus as much as I can on work... All the while not worrying about the fact that I'm dropping at least fifteen pounds a week. No one mentions my clothes either. They just shrug off the fact that my skinny jeans are baggy now and that my signature record shirts have been replaced with baggy long sleeved sweat jackets.
And now... I can feel that urge again. The urge to drag my razor blade over my arms... The urge watch blood flow slowly down my skin. It's coming back.. And I welcome it.
And for the next week in a half... I keep welcoming it..
And when John asks how I'm doing over the phone... I just say "I'm fine bro." and it keeps happening...
Until Jake finds me.
