Arabelle's POV
I'm almost 99% positive that I'm walking in the general direction of my house. At least, I really hope so. No matter how hard I squint at the street signs I'm passing, I can't seem to make sense of them. I can't remember where they are in relation to my house, so I just keep walking East, figuring I'll probably spot something familiar eventually.
Taking one last drag of my cigarette, I smother the burning end in an ash tray outside of a restaurant. Even though I just went through a full cigarette, my hands are still shaking, and I still feel tears in my eyes. Marissa and Charlotte's words ring in my mind, making me want to pull out my hair in frustration.
"God, I fucking HATE people!" I shout at the sky, kicking a random street sign. A passing middle-aged woman walking her dog looks taken aback my outburst.
"Hey, watch your language young lady," she chides.
"Hey, fuck you, lady," I snap. She narrows her eyes, planting her hands on her hips while her fluffy little rat-dog paws at her ankles.
"If I wanted to, I could call the police and have you charged for public intoxication, and possibly underage drinking. You look to young to be drunk." I open my mouth angrily to reply, but find myself wordless. What am I doing? I'm the one in the wrong here, she didn't do anything. Just because I'm fucked in the head and heartbroken over a certain grey-eyed girl doesn't give me permission to be a bitch to random strangers trying to walk their dogs.
"I'm sorry," I mutter, sliding down the brick building next to me into a sitting position right on the sidewalk. Maybe I should just sleep here tonight, and deal with finding my way home tomorrow. It might be the booze speaking, but that sounds like a fantastic idea at the moment.
The lady hesitates before kneeling in front of me.
"Listen, you look lost. Do you want help finding your way home?" she offers with a sigh. I gaze up at her, eyes swimming with the tears that won't seem to leave. I nod mutely after contemplating the offer, and she helps me stand up.
I give her my address, and find out from her that I'm only 6 blocks away from my house. I guess I've been walking the right direction for the past half an hour after all. Neither of us strike up a conversation, we just walk in silence, pausing every once in a while when her dog sniffs at various objects.
"Out of curiosity, are you old enough to legally drink?" the woman asks, interrupting the silence. I put my hands in my pockets awkwardly, and slowly shake my head no, deciding to be honest. She sighs, and we both fall silent once again.
When we reach home, I notice that the living room light is on. Looks like I'm not going to be able to avoid my parents.
"Well, here it is," I mumble grudgingly. "Home sweet home."
"Alright, well... I'm sure your parents will take care of you. Be more careful in the future, okay honey? You shouldn't wonder the city streets at night alone, drunk or not," she says sternly. I nod breezily.
"I'll be more careful next time." Lie. "Goodnight, and thanks for walking me." With that, I give her a small grateful smile before awkwardly ambling up the walkway leading to my front door. Slipping the key out from under the pot of flowers next to the door mat, I unlock the door and slip inside as quietly as I can. Maybe they left the living room light on on accident? Maybe they're sleeping, and they'll never know about this.
The moment the door closes, the front hall lights flick on and I flinch away from the blinding light. Standing in front of me are both of my parents.
"Where have you been?" Dad demands angrily. My mom eyes me worriedly, sniffing the air.
"Have you been smoking?" she adds. Upon closer inspection, she spots the bruise darkening on my cheek. "Did you get into a fight?!" I sigh, kicking off my boots.
"I've been at a club with Lily, but things got cut short when the girl I have feelings for called me a slut. Then I walked home, assisted by a stranger with a fluffy rat-dog since I'm totally smashed right now. Yes, I've been smoking, and yes, I got into a fight," I slurred tiredly. Lying sounds really, really hard right now, and I know they wouldn't believe excuses right now anyway. Mom and Dad look horrified.
"WHAT? Arabelle, what's wrong with you?" My dad exclaims. Mom's eyes fill with tears, and she buries her face in her hands. I clench my jaw at the sight, angry at myself for making her cry. "You're grounded. I'm not sure for how long yet. Go up to your room. We're all going to sit down and have that talk tomorrow," he orders stiffly. I don't say anything, I just walk past them up the stairs and lock myself in my room. The tears that were sitting in my eyes finally escape in a flood. I crumple to the floor, folding in on myself like a broken toy.
My life feels like a twisted cycle. Seek relief, fuck things up, fuck things up some more, make my parents sad even though I'm trying to protect them, break down and lose my shit, repeat.
I pound my fist into my black carpet in frustration. I fucking hate this. I hate all of this. My spinning drunken thoughts, my spinning sober thoughts, my secrets, my anger, my confusion, my sadness, my happiness, my memories. My memories, my memories, my memories...
"Hold her arms down, Lindsey."
"Stop struggling, slut!"
"Don't you want to make us happy?"
"Oh god, you feel so nice..."
Grabbing my pillow off my bed, I bury my face into it and scream for all I'm worth, trying to drown out the voices from my memory.
"That's it, Arabelle... doesn't that feel good?"
"You like that don't you, you little whore"
"Gag her, Lindsey. We don't need her waking up Martha and Thomas."
I whimper, feeling the ghost of his hands roaming over my body, touching me. I feel myself start to fall into a panic attack as my breath shortens, heart pounding fast. Throwing the pillow away from me, I look around my room frantically for something to stop the pain. I need to stop the fucking pain inside of me before it swallows me whole. I need something, anything, SOMETHING.
Spotting my metal paper weight on my dresser, I scramble over to it and grip the hard metal tightly in my right hand. I haven't resorted to physically hurting myself in a while, but right now it seems like a quick fix. Rolling up the sleeve of my left arm with my knees frantically, I bring the metal down forcefully on my arm, bruising it. Gritting my teeth in pain, I close my eyes and repeat the process repeatedly, focusing on the pain, trying to hurt myself enough to kill the thing inside. Or at least to make it shut up.
My panic slowly dies away, and I throw the paper weight away in disgust. A sick feeling of euphoria fills my veins as a result from the self-inflicted pain, lifting me away from both the emotional and physical pain for a while. No one can touch me here. No one can hurt me. I wish I could feel this way forever.
I wish, I wish, I wish.
When I come down from my pain-induced endorphin high, I look down at my arm and grimace at the sight. Of course I made sure not to hit hard enough to break anything, but... well, looks like no t-shirts for me for a few days. Hauling myself clumsily off of the floor, I'm grateful to find that the pain in my head and body has quieted down to a hollow ache.
Bearable.
As I sit down on my bed, Bunny jumps up next to me and sits by my side. She stares at me curiously with her big feline eyes, purring lightly when I rub her ears.
"I wish I could trade places with you Bunny," I sigh. I can't count how many times I've wished I could be a cat, or something similar. It's a stupid thing to think about, but it still enters my mind every once in a while. How easy it would be to curl up under someones bed, and do nothing but sleep for hours.
A thump startles us, and I scowl as Lily climbs through my window and falls onto my floor.
"Ouch! Dammit Bell, I hate climbing that blasted tree of yours. Why does your room have to be on the second floor?" she complains, rubbing her sore butt as she stands.
"I want to be alone," I say bluntly, ignoring her question. Lily looks at me, taking in my appearance.
"Well, I just got rid of Charlotte and Marissa. Dropped them off. So I'm alone now, and you look like you need a friend," she responds. I shrug, continuing to pet Bunny.
"I have Bunny, don't I?"
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, but... wait, what the hell happened to your arm?" she gasps, running over and gently lifting my arm in her hands.
"Hmm... hit it repeatedly with a paper weight to kill the pain and the memories. Which is a really weird way to hurt myself, if you think about it... cutting might have been easier," I babble tiredly. I'm sick of talking, I just want to sleep. Lily stares at me sadly, then pulls me into a hug.
"I love you so much, Arabelle. You're my best friend. You have no idea how hard it is to see you this way," she whispers.
"And you have no idea how fucking tired I am," I grumble into her shoulder. She chuckles quietly, then pulls both of us sideways so that we're lying side by side on my bed, making my head spin with the sudden change of position.
"I wish you would talk to me more about your history. Will you tell me some day? Before it's too late?" she murmurs pleadingly.
"I wish I was a cat," I mumble back, choosing to ignore her question once again. Lily snorts at my response, tightening her arms around my waste. Letting myself relax in Lily's arms, I finally sink into the blissful abyss of sleep.