Sweaters || Malum

Chapter 11

Song of the chapter: Glass Hearts by Of Mice & Men 

And sadly, another trigger warning.

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Sometimes, shit happens.

I walk through the halls of my school, some people's eyes on me. Some people didn't know me so they didn't pay any attention to my existence. I wasn't sure what happened, but I continued walking in discomfort. I tug on my sleeves, my mindset going to that. I reach my locker and see papers taped to it.

Cut yourself

Kill yourself

Fag

I stumble back slightly at the sight. "How is everyone's little emo?" I hear from behind me and I am stood in front of the locker. I was out of tears already from crying all the way to school about my parent's divorce. Maybe this was a sign. I should have killed myself last night. Everything is going wrong now, so terribly wrong.

I rip the papers off my locker and crumble them, throwing them to the ground. I let tears fall and everybody's eyes are on me. Even people who didn't know me. I was making a scene.

I cover my mouth with my sweatshirt and continue to cry as I just about dash through the halls. I burst out the front entrance again.

I felt so invisible. I felt my whole world shattering around me, I felt my heart breaking and I felt overwhelmed.

I see Michael, Ashton, and Luke under the overpass and I continue going. "Hey Cal!" Luke calls but I just keep going. I spare a quick glance at Michael but it is obvious he wasn't looking at me for a reason.

"Calum?" Ashton calls, wondering if I may not have heard Luke.

I hear footsteps as Ashton and Luke soon surround me. I look at them with tears dropping from my eyes and running down my cheeks. "Oh my god." Luke gasps at the sight.

"Leave me alone." I order, trying to walk by them. They both stop me and I struggle against them. I get past them then I feel a hand on my shoulder; grabbing my sweatshirt. I immediately stop as it begins to come off but I manage to keep it on. I turn around and look at the boys - and I see Michael slowly walking up to us.

"Tell us what's wrong!" Luke demands.

Everything. Everything is completely wrong. And I do something I don't usually do. I let it out. "My fucking parents are getting divorced! I hate my father and I have to live with him. I hate him so much you d-don't understand. And everyone hates me and I hate myself and I can't do this anymore. I-I can't do it anymore." I sob, falling to my knees.

There was silence and then I heard a small voice, "You can't do what anymore?"

It was Ashton's voice. He sounded genuinely concerned, but that is an act. Like everyone caring is an act. Nobody cares. "I just can't. You would understand." I cry.

"Y-Your parents are g-getting d-divorced?" Michael asks me and I just nod.

"Why do you hate your father? I thought he was nice?" Luke questions and I was suddenly scared.

I never meant to say that, they'll be suspicious. "I don't like him. He's a drunk." I cover it up a bit and they accept it really easily. "I need some space." I tell them, slowly standing up.

They take a few steps back as I wipe my tears away with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. "You don't really hate yourself, d-do you?" Luke asks me, worried.

I just nod and look down, allowing my tears to keep falling. They all seemed surprised. The popular kid, the one with the brightest smile, as actually really sad. "Oh look it's the emo fag." An unknown boy says, glaring at me.

I just let out another sob and Luke says, "Fuck off, motherfucker."

"You going to make me?" He threatens.

Luke stays quiet and the boy laughs, continuing his walk into the school. I try to walk away from them but one of them grabs my bag and I let it fall off my shoulders. I don't even care. I want to go home, I want release, I want to be alone with my own horrid thoughts.

But then my sweatshirt gets grabbed again and before I could do anything, the unzipped material falls off my shoulders. I hide my arms in front of me and begin dashing. They couldn't see, not now. Not ever.

I hear my name being called as I pick up my pace. I run towards my house, tears falling from my eyes and my cuts stinging from the cold air. I finally reach my house, completely out of breath. I look behind me and nobody is there. They did not follow me home.

I unlock the door quietly and I hear loud voices arguing from the living room. I walk inside and lock the door as I head upstairs. They were so unhappy together. I never knew. I hear something shatter and I flinch as I close my bedroom door. I head towards my desk instinctively and pull out my razors.

I felt so empty without my cover up, but as least I had hoodies. It isn't like it is my only sweatshirt - just my favourite. I go into my bathroom and lock the door. I look down at my arms, slightly red from the cold wind. I don't cry, I felt too numb to cry.

Instead of on my arms, I pull my pants down to expose my scar covered thighs. I shaved my thighs because I wasn't a fan of body hair, and it made it easier to cut when needed. But I have recently moved to my arms so my thighs were covered with thin white scars from when I first started cutting.

I place the corner of my blade into my thigh and slice. One, two, three, five, ten, fifteen, and I begin to lose count of how many times I have sliced. All I know is that all I saw was the warm red liquid, dripping at a rapid pace from the cuts onto the floor.

I felt relieved, and I take a look at the clock. Class started in five minutes. If I hurried, I could leave and go back to school and only be a few minutes late. My father will beat me worse than usual if I skip school. I am quick to clean up my bloody thighs and I spend a few of those minutes wrapping fresh ACE bandage around it.

I pull up my jeans uncomfortably over the bandages and then I begin to scrub the floor. I was ten minutes late to school by the time I was done. I felt better as I left the bathroom and grabbed a new sweater. I left the house as quietly as I went in: invisible and unnoticed.