Anger. I feel it so much more lately, at the past, at the present, at the distant future. And the
fear. Eating through me and rousing the anger- they go hand and hand. Anything that threatens my haven, I fear- and thus, I am angry at it for making me afraid.
Who are you to stir these feelings in my chest? It's funny, I've been in car accidents, speeding towards a pole at 90 miles an hour-
Captain, we're going down, mayday- mayday- I've watched the machines stop working and the life fade away, been standing on the sidelines while my hero walked away from me, been pulled over by the cops when I have weed tucked into my sleeve, I've been chased, sent away, beaten up, but I knew how to handle the fear. I did handle it. I held my head up and got me and whoever was involved out of the situation and onto solid ground. But this, this blurry area of hazed emotions that eat away at me as I sink under them, it's killing me. Why can't I fix it? That's my job- to fix things. Not like I'm any good at it.
Look what happens when you try. Shut up, shut up, shut up... I'm clenching my teeth and holding my head in between my knees. I'm drowning in the hazel, surrounding my memories. Where is she now?
Why should you deserve to know? Shut my eyes tightly and try to block out the ghosts. I want to know. I want to know that she's better.
A box flies through the air, I catch it, my rose tipped nails glinting in the sunlight. "I'm letting you have the darker shade, because I knew you'd like it." I grin. "Thanks, hon." Her voice pipes up. "I'll do it for you, if you'd like." The smell of the chemicals float in the air and into my nostrils. "Ick. It smells like toxic shrooms." She giggles. I feel her little hands spread the dye into my hair. "This is hard, your hair's so much thicker than mine." I wrinkle my nose. "I really just wanna chop it off, but Jeremiah wouldn't like it." She scowls. "You should just do it anyway. Who is he to tell you what to do?" I softly laugh. "He's my boyfriend." Her hands get rougher. "So? He's a moron." I grin. "Of course you'd say that, you grew up with him." She finished with the dye, and then put my hair up in a clip, crossing over to throw away the gloves. "Which is why I should know... He's not who you think he is." I laughed. "No one ever is. But I think I love him." She pursed her lips. "Don't." My eyes widen, pulling me out. So much time has passed- it was such a short time ago, only a few years- but it feels like forever. So much pain.
I sit on my bed, tracing the cuts on my legs with my index finger. She sits next to me. "Doesn't it hurt?" I smile softly. "Only on the inside." She leaned her head on my shoulder. I look down at her wild brown hair, and the smell of Dove fills my brain. "Nick. He's gone. He isn't around anymore. He left Issac's house yesterday." She looked back up at me, her hazel eyes wide with concern. "Don't be sad, cuzzi." I smile at her. And then I tear one of my cuts open, and trace it with my finger again- and then I stick my finger in my mouth, staring at her as I lick the blood. I squeeze my eyes shut again. I was so stupid- so stupid. She needed me- and I couldn't see. Doesn't it hurt?
We sat on her bed underneath her window, eating watermelon and drinking diet coke. I look up at her window. "How did that get broken?" She avoids my eyes. "Just the boys, I guess. You know how they are, cukoo, cukoo!" She tries to smile. And I smile back. Man, I was dumb. I didn't know what signs to pay attention to and what signs to ignore. You never knew with her- she was so spontaneous- you never knew. And whenever she told me things, she said them with a smile.
I came striding into the dance, dress covering my cutting leg and eyeliner coated thick to cover my dark circles. "Hey guys. You seen my cousin?" They eyed me warily, and pointed me in her direction. I gave a confused smile and walked over to her. "Hey, hunni." I gave her a giant hug, like we always did, and she flinched. I furrowed my brow, and noticed her favoring her chest. I looked at her with concern, and tore her jacket open. She must of had at least fourty cuts there. I couldn't breathe. I looked at her, my eyes icy. "Why would you do this?" She shrugged. "You do it." And for the first time in three years, my cousin walked away from me. It seemed that after that we drifted, like a couple of pieces of wood in the ocean- in seperate directions- I towards recovery from cutting, her towards more cutting, and booze, and relationships that left her sobby and curled up in my lap.
The bathroom tiles glinted cruelly in my eyes as I looked at her. The circles under her eyes were as bad as mine now, and her eyes only held an echo of who she really was. "Sandy, you need to stop." She scoffs at me. "What am I doing? What should I stop?" I take a deep breath and run my hand through my spiky hair. "This. All of this. The drinking, the hanging out with Frances. I've been there, cuz, I know how it's gonna end up. Don't go there." She laughed and turned from me. "Don't worry about it. Frances is fine. She's not gonna do anything to me. And I'm not even as bad as you think." She walked by me, and instead of catching the scent of Dove and perfume, I caught the scent of alcohol and cigarettes, and I turned my head away. And in my anger, I gave up on trying to save her. I watched her struggle everyday and I just stood there. Oh well, she doesn't want my help. Let her drown. We talked less and less, and I turned my head more and more. Until the wall broke.
She walked into the classroom, her eyes dialated and her movements strange. She giggled at everything, her laugh irregular and her reason clouded. She walked over to me and whispered in my ear. "Do you see it too?" I raised my eyebrow. "What are you talking about, man?" She looked at me strangely. "The... room. It's- really bright- isn't it?" I shook my head. She sat slowly and held her head. "What did she give me-" she muttered to herself. I sat next to her, and for the first time in months, I touched her. She flinched. "Did Frances give you something?" She nodded. "I- I said I had a headache, and she gave me this tiny pill..." And that was that. All my resolutions to not care and not help her were gone. I wanted to help her. I needed to help her. She was obviously in need of it. I got her some water, made her eat, and went on the warpath.
Ashley was at my back, holding a crying Sandy as I quickly and angrily walked across the commons area. I stood at the wall where I knew that she was behind, and called her out. "Hey, you dumb whore, come over here!" She stepped out. "What's your issue, Ariana?" I got in her face. "You gave her acid, huh?" I knew the effects of the drug, and she was showing them. Although LSD is really hard to get in a pill, it is, in fact, out there. Frances grinned. "I didn't give her shit." I grew two sizes, and shoved her as hard as I could. "Hit me, you dumb bitch. Hit me." Her eyes widened, and she backed away. I followed her, and pushed her again. "What's wrong, you dumb fuckin' whore? Not bad anymore, eh?" I gestured to my face. "Come on. Free shot." She shook her head and tried to back away again. I followed. Raizel tried to get in my way. "Stop it, Ariana! Stop!" I turned my fury on her and pushed her out of my way. "Fuck you! Keep outta my way, unless you wanna get hit in the face." I grinned in Frances's face. "Hit me." The spanish teacher, Mr. Crespin ran up and stood in between us. "Walk away, Frances. Walk away. She'll hurt you if you don't." She fearfully shook her head, and I pushed her again. "F-uc-kin pussy. Now that the teacher's here, you have no fear, eh? Oh, your so brave." Mr. Crespin layed his hand on my arm. "Calm down, Ariana. Calm down, please." I shook his hand off. "I'm not gonna fuckin' be calm. Get out of my way." Ashley spoke up. "Mr. Crespin, she has every right. Frances gave Sandy acid." She took my arm gently, and led me away, whispering in my ear. "Not now." And Sandy clung to my arm, her tears falling on my leather. It seems like such a long time ago. Not so long after that, they sent her away to a treatment center, and her hazel eyes were lost to me. I didn't hear from her, maybe only once in six months. I went to go see her mother.
"We think that she was acting the way she was because she was getting molested here." My stomach dropped. Of course. The signs. Why didn't she tell me? And then, I was jolted back to the realization, that I couldn't protect her. She shot me signs, and I was blind. Why? She calls me once and a while, and I hear the laugh in her voice again. She even came to see me, about four or five months ago. The lights are back. And I still always try to look out for her. Even if I don't succeed. Someday I'll make it up to her. Cause that's what cousins are for, right? God, I hope so...
The signals fade
