Almost every night, I have the same nightmare. Of course, it wasn't so much as a nightmare as an exaggeration of my life. At least I get wake up from the actual nightmares though.
I get teased and beat up for being gay, I don't know how they figured it out, but they did. I am forgotten by everybody I know. I am invisible. My brother and my dad don't notice me, unless dad is punishing me for something Al did. And my cousin who lives with us hasn't had time for me for a while now. So I'm all alone.
And because I am forgotten and ignored so much, I resorted to cutting to make sure I'm still alive. That doesn't make up for all the pain and suffering for when I am noticed. What makes me forget that pain is smoking marijuana. I know I shouldn't, but it makes me feel calm and forget about my day. And, after using it so many times, and after cutting so many times, I think I may be addicted to both.
/\ It was my lunch period, and I was sitting in a corner, writing in my journal. Since I'm invisible, I know nobody will notice. Of course, I'm wrong though.
"Hey queer, what are you doing?" The leader of the bullies, Mike, asks, taking my journal.
"Give it back!" I exclaim, getting to my feet and reaching for it. One of the other bullies puts his hand on my head, making sure I can't grab it back. Mike clears his throat, grabbing the attention of surrounding tables, then reads aloud from my journal, taking the voice to mock a nerd with.
" 'Nobody's noticed me today again, so I think it may be safe today. Maybe I'll tell Shane I've been crushing on him.' " He pauses, letting people laugh as he imitates a stereotypical love-struck teen girl. My face grows red in embarrassment. He doesn't stop there though. "'Yeah, I'll tell him today when I see him. I just hope he won't make fun of me too. Maybe…if he returns the feelings, I'll stop-.' Stop what, gay?" he asks, picking me up by the collar of my hoodie. "What'll you stop?" I don't answer, and he rams me against the wall. "Answer me."
I still don't, and he and his buddies start beating me up. The other kids only laugh as I weakly try to defend myself. None of he faulty there comes to my rescue, not seeing me. When they finish beating on me for the time being, They drag me over to a trash can and throw me into it, hardly conscious. The other students only laugh harder and throw their trash on me and call me names as they pass. And worse of all, Shane does the same thing.
He comes up to me with a brown paper bag that once had his lunch in it.
"I-I'm sorry they r-read that Sh-Shane, b-but I-I-" I try to tell him, blushing. He cuts me off as he smashes the bag on my head.
"I have a girlfriend right now loser. Besides, I would never like you." Then he walks off, leaving me hurt more mentally and emotionally than ever before. I cry silently, unable to help myself, just getting people to make more fun of me. It doesn't hurt as much as when Shane did it though.
When I eventually pull myself out of the trash, it's two periods later. I decide to just go home. No one will notice I left anyway. I brush off some of the trash, but most of it won't get off.
I go to my locker, and when I open it, a note falls out. I pick it up and read it:
Why do you even come here if you know you're hated? I can't find one person in the school who really knows you, much less likes you. Why don't you do everyone a favor and go to hell, where you belong?
I drop the paper and get out of the school, forgetting my books, and run back home as fast as I can, trying not to cry. 'Kill myself?' I think as I run. 'I won't go to hell if I die. I won't. I won't! Will I? No, hell is for the bad people. I'm not bad. They just say I am. Right?'
I get home as my cousin's leaving for work. I know he'll comfort me since he always notices me. I go up to him, but before I can say anything, he just says, "Shouldn't you be in school Alfred? I'll just tell your dad about this later." I look at him, dumbfounded for a moment, new tears forming over the others before I run into the house. I run into my room, lock and close my door, and then slide down it to sit on the floor. I bring my knees up to my chest and cry into my arms.
A few minutes later, I get up and go over to my desk. I take out some of my pot and lighter and put them on top of my desk. I open another drawer, open the small box in there, and take out my blade and a bunch of gauze. I take off my hoodie and throw it onto my bed. I take the bandages off my arms, revealing the crisscrossed scars going up past both my elbows.
I take my lighter and burn the marijuana. It's more than I've ever smoked at one time, but I need it right now. I take my blade and start cutting myself.
After a few cuts that go up to my left elbow, I hear a voice.
"Why stop there?" it says. "Why not just cut up your whole arm? Take the flesh right off? And your other arm too, no need to stop here." I gently smile and nod. The voice makes a good point.
I slowly cut up my left arm, getting the hallucinations and that weird feeling in my head sooner, and it's stronger than usual.
What's coming out of my arms? It's red. It stings when I poke my arm, but it feels good too. Have my arms always been red? Where's that bell coming from? Heh, now they're green? Hey, something's there in my arm…
I come back from school, throw my book bag on the floor, and look through the refrigerator for food. Finding something, I go to my room and play some video games for a while.
An hour or so later, my boyfriend comes over. I had forgot I told him to come over, but he knocks on my door. I open it, annoyed at first, but then smile.
"Come downstairs please?" he simply asks.
"Why downstairs? Why not here?"
""Fine." I drop the controller I had and start walking down the hall with him. I stop at a door that faintly has an odd smell coming from it. Being me, I open the door, needing to know what the smell is. I freeze, staring inside the room.
My brother is passed out on his desk. Both his arms are heavily bleeding; I can't even see any skin on his forearms, and I think I see some muscle underneath the blood on his left arm. There's a bloody blade in his right hand. It looks like there's marijuana burning on top of his desk.
"Alfred, what the bloody hell is keeping you?" Iggy asks, coming back down the hall to me. I can only stare in shock at my twin. Iggy looks in too, but luckily, he doesn't lose his composer. "Go slow his bleeding and put out that drug. Keep him breathing." he tells me as he whips out his phone.
I nod as he pushes me in Mattie's room and calls 911. I put out the marijuana, then grab the red hoodie Mattie always wears and press it over his arms. Then I see the gauze on the desk. I wrap it tightly around his arms. It's not professional at all, but it'll have to do for now. He's awfully pale, and his breathing seems way to shallow to be good.
"Come on Mattie. Why'd ya do this?"
The ambulance comes a few minutes later and they take Mattie to the hospital. Iggy and I get in the car and drive down to the hospital too. We have to go wait in a waiting room. There's no one in there, so no one but Iggy sees me crying.
He sits next to me on the small sofa and rubs my back as I cry into my hands.
"He'll be all right, love. He's getting taken care of."
"Wh-what if I was t-too l-late?" I sob out.
"You weren't too late. He's going to be fine."
"But what if he's not Iggy? Wh-what if he… d-doesn't m-make it? I was s-supposed t-ta look after h-him and m-make sure he's ok."
"Don't worry, he'll be all right." He pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back. I cry into his shoulder.
"Iggy, I could see the m-muscle in his arm. A-and it was all along the length of his arm. I-I don't know if h-he'll be o-ok."
Iggy continues to comfort me as I cry into his shoulder until I fall asleep a few hours later.
A/N: wow, sorry i havent really posted anything all summer, i get distracted easily. i usually finish my stories before i put them up, but with my procrasination, i think if i put this up then it'll remind me to keep on writing. so, updates may be slower than usual, but for my next stories i'll make sure they're updated everyday. i promises :3