Thirty Nine - Dragged Down

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"Haven't you already seen this movie, like, a hundred times?" I asked May, eyes flicking between the TV that was displaying some comedy and my partially completed Spanish sheet. I'd mostly given up on it after failing recall how to conjugate dormir or google it and left that section blank, instead focusing on the channels that flipped on and off the screen as my sister searched for something suitable. 

This disturbance could be avoided by doing my homework like I usually did, with my textbooks and papers occupying an excessive amount of space on our table and my cup of water printing a wet ring on it, music from my earbuds blocking out the sounds of the world and distracting me from my work enough to prevent an ache from pounding in my head. 

But I was too sick of school to even attempt engaging fully in my homework, so I was with May instead, a book open over my legs and pencil repeatedly rolling out of my grasp. Unproductive, but It'd get done at some point and I didn't currently desire failing out of school, so it was good enough.   

My phone was upside down beside me, buzzing occasionally, most likely with messages from a group conversation with Zack and Rian in which I had no fucking idea what they were talking about. It vibrated quickly several times as May said, "Yeah, but that doesn't mean it isn't awesome."

"Lot less exciting when you already know everything that's going to happen, though," I countered, some skateboarding contest occurring in the movie. The fact that it was halfway over didn't discourage May either. 

May twisted her hair back, pulling it into a literal knot as she shook her head in disagreement. "You're supposed to be doing homework; you don't even get an opinion on what I'm watching."

"That's just rude," I objected, sinking further into the pillows and picking my pencil off of the floor, intending to properly complete my Spanish assignment. 

I bit at the end of the pencil, grabbing my binder from behind me to figure out the verb conjugation and dropping it on my ribs when my phone rang with another text. I registered that the message was from Alex before scrolling through the others from Rian and Zack, seeing that the topic still hadn't turned to anything I understood and sliding Alex's text open. 

With TV dialogue that meant nothing to me and some intense music running behind the on-screen argument in my ears, I read the texts through my glasses.

Alex: I'm having a crappy day and really wanna cut

Alex: But I can't, people would see and ask what happened

Alex: I don't wanna lie anymore

My face contorted, eyebrows slanting downwards and lips falling from a line into a drooping curve. I angled myself away from May's vision, already anxious about my responses being insufficient when I replied to Alex.

Me: Lex, why? What happened?

My teeth tugged at the inside of my cheek, pain resonating in my nerves, jittery fingers grasping my motionless phone. Alex had to be at his house alone, and although he'd refrained from cutting for a prideful period of time, there were always shaving razors and overly sharp scissors and glass with slicing edges, and once causing yourself pain had been determined an effective solution, it immediately and indefinitely become the mind's first suggestion for killing negative feelings. 

It was an unavoidable urge that still tingled on the bone of my wrist whenever my eyes started to sting, and for people who only let their skin remain untouched for others, without any personal motivation to avoid that stupid fix, it could be practically impossible to resist. 

If that question of why not? couldn't be completely explained for someone, they'd have no reservations about causing themselves pain, and Alex, I was aware, hadn't come up with any more reasons not to take a razor to his skin than I had.

Smile On His Lips and Cuts On His Hips (Jalex)Where stories live. Discover now