Saturday, May 30th, 2009
“What are you staring at?” I asked, looking up.
He cleared his throat before talking.
“You look beautiful tonight.”
“Thanks.” I said.
I looked at his features, something I haven’t done at all. He really was handsome. He had those movie star looks; brown eyes, wavy, brown hair, tan skin. The waitress came by with our desserts in a tray. She gave James his slice of pie and then gave me mine. I watched as she smiled and tried to shamelessly flirt with him-again.
“Thank you.” He said at the gawking waitress.
I cleared my throat and watched as she shifted her eyes to mine. She took a hint and quickly left our table. I saw how James took it all in and simply smiled.
“How old are you again?” I asked.
“28.” My eyebrow went up.
“Why is a handsome, 28-year-old man like yourself doing with an 18-year-old college student?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, what’s actually wrong with you? Mama’s boy? Player? On the downlow?” He chuckled a bit before answering.
“I’m definitely not a mama’s boy or a player or gay.”
“Then, why aren’t you in a relationship? I saw how those waitresses were staring at you and shamelessly flirting with you. It seems like women throw themselves at you wherever you go.” He flashed me a smile.
“Why isn’t a beautiful, 18-year-old woman like yourself not in a relationship?
“I asked you first.”
“I’m single because I don’t have time for relationships. I’m always working and relationships aren’t really my thing.” My eyebrow went up.
“If relationships aren’t your ‘thing,’ then why did you ask me out in the first place?”
“Because I think that you’re beautiful.” I frowned.
“How shallow of you to say that.” He licked his lips.
“If you think that’s shallow, I want to know your reason for going out with me.”
“Um…….” I said, racking my brain for a reason.
“Thought so. I don’t think you go out with men who you aren’t physically attracted to.” I shook my head.
“Now, back to my question. Why are you single?” He asked.
“Relationships, for me, don’t last long.”
“Same here. I tend to get bored easily.”
“Same. So, if anything would ever happen between us, it’d probably a couple of days, weeks maybe, and if we’re lucky, a month.” I added. He smiled again.
I looked down at my pie, putting a bite into my mouth.
“Can I have a bite of your pie?” He asked.
I looked up at him.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I don’t know where your mouth has been.”
He nodded, smiling wider. He leaned into the table and kissed me. It was soft and slow. He leaned back into his seat and bit his lip. I was stunned by his spontaneity.
“Now, can I have a bite?” He asked.
I smiled and shook my head. I took a forkful of pie and fed it to him. He put my fork into his mouth and slowly slid it out while making eye contact with me. I simply giggled as he gave me back my fork. I took my fork in my hands, examining it. Every crevice is clean. I heard him giggle.
“Your turn.” He said.
“What?”
“It’s your turn to try mine.” He said, digging a forkful of his pie.
I shook my head, smiling.
“It’s just one bite.” He said.
He leaned his fork to me and brought it in front of my mouth. I was reluctant, opening my mouth after thinking for awhile. He slid the fork into my mouth and slowly pulled it out one-by-one. I made eye contact with him and let the fork out of my mouth. I swallowed the pie and giggled.
“You know I’m not sleeping with you, right?” I said.
He smiled, shaking his head.
“I’m not asking.”He said.
I gave him a smile back, biting my lip lightly.
Now-3:33 a.m.
I sat there in the dark, blood dripping from my lips and into my tongue. The slight stinging feeling of my lips sent a shock through my brain. Afraid to sleep and afraid to wake up. The cold sweat fell down my temples to my lips where its saltiness managed to sting the cuts. I pressed my front teeth against the flesh of my deteriorating lips. I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and put my head back.
Ding Dong!
My eyes struggled to open as the light from the window caught them. I fluttered them a few times before I got used to it. I sighed and put both of my hands on the sides of myself as foundation to bring myself up. I stood up and stretched my arms. I walked over to the door, not caring about my sloppy appearance, and opened the door. To my surprise, it was Chris standing by the door.
“Hi.” He said.
“Hi.” I said blandly.
“You just woke up?”
“Yeah, why are you here?”
“….Uh-Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“Your lip is bleeding.” He said.
“Oh.” I said, nodding before quickly licking them, tasting its iron-ish flavor.
“Why are you here?” I asked again.
“I wanted to take you out for lunch today, but I see that you’re still sleepy-“
“No, I’m fine!” I said quickly.
He studied me a bit, eyes going lingering from mine to down my lips. I licked them again, feeling a sting.
“Fine.” He simply said.
“I’ll be right back. Just give me 15 minutes.” I said.
Chris’ POV
When she went into the bathroom, she left me alone in the living room. In this small apartment, I saw there was still a box beside the sofa. I picked it up and went through the it. There was stuff like textbooks, workbooks, novels, and one notebook. I picked up the notebook, brushing my fingers on its plastic cover. I flipped through the pages and until one page caught my eye. It was covered in flecks of what seemed to be blood. I looked at the date: December 25th, 2007. My eyebrow went up.
“I can’t take being stuck inside here anymore. I’m slowly giving in to the idea that I am insane. I’m getting more and more depressed everyday, along with increased desperation. The other day, I took the bud of my cigarette and burned it into my inner wrist. Today, I caught myself trying to bite open my hand. When I bit it, the more I bit, the more I didn’t feel. I almost thought I was dead for a moment. So much for mood stabilizers…(it’s not like I’ve been actually swallowing them anyways, or my pills for that matter).“
I flipped through a few more pages. I stopped at one from January 31st, 2008.
“I looked at my hand; thin fingers attached to a hand with visible green colored veins showing through my coloring. I bit into the sides of it, biting until I felt pressure on my bones. I felt my teeth sink into my skin; my/their/its blood slowly dripped into my mouth. I’m a little bit more alive.”
My eyes widened. I was about to flip through more pages until I heard the sound of the shower turning off. I quickly put the book back into the box and slightly kicked it away from me. I watched as Mike got out of the bathroom in a towel and headed into the bedroom. Once she was gone, I looked down at the notebook, thinking of ways I could get it out of this place.
“Ready!” She said. I looked up at her and smiled.
“Good.” I said, standing up.
My eyes made contact with her lips. Bruised and bloodied. My eyes zeroed in on the peeling skin.
“You ready to go?” She said, interrupting my thoughts.
I think she caught me staring at her lips because she quickly licked them several times over. I smiled and nodded. I followed her out of the apartment, waiting for her to lock the door. I clutched the notebook in my jacket, hopefully wishing that it won’t drop.
______________________________________________________________
“Mike, are you okay?” I asked.
She looked to be in a daze. Her eyes were darkened and replaced with a blank stare. She looked up at me, emotions slowly filling their place into her irises.
“I’m fine.” She nodded.
“Is something bothering you?” I asked.
“N-No.” She said, shaking her head slightly.
“You seem stressed? Anything happened lately?”
“No, but I do have some good news I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“What happened?”
“I got accepted to Columbia Law School.” She said, smiling slightly.
“That’s great! When are you starting?”
“August”
“That’s great.” I said, flashing her a wider smile.
I could see that she wasn’t too excited. I paid attention as she bit her lips again, rubbing her teeth against the peeling skin. All I could think about was her diary.
_______________________________________________________________
I sat back in bed, laying down beside Mike’s notebook. I’m anxious and partially scared to open it. The conflict in my mind is growing. If I don’t read, I might not know the gist of her problem, but if I do and she finds out, she will kill me. Weighing the matters through, as a psychiatrist, I must do my job. Afterall, she is a former patient of mine. I sighed and sat up. I took the notebook in my hands, tracing the carved pen marks in the cover. I flipped through more pages until I stopped at one page from Friday, June 28th, 2008:
“I was just certified mentally stable. I can finally leave. Leave the abuse, the mistreatment, the anger, and the heartbreak. Most of all, I want to leave Chris so I wouldn’t have little mental breakdowns anymore.” I read more further.
“It hurts that I still love him. It hurts that his prescence alone can make me breakdown. It hurts that he’ll never feel the same way. It hurts all so much, but he abandoned me. He probably found someone sane. Someone prettier. Someone older. Someone better.”
I moved back pages until I landed on Friday, November 30th, 2007:
“Mike, you’re 16. You don’t know what real love is. It’s just an infatuation, you’ll get over it.”
“No I’m not!” I protested. “What I feel for you is actually love. Don’t you love me?”
“No, I don’t feel that way. Mike, your feelings for me is just some effect from child abuse. Having inappropriate feelings for adults is one of them.”
The fact that she documented our whole conversation scared me a bit. I skimmed through the most recent entry: Tuesday, July 1st, 2008
“I chew my lips so the filthiness can go away. When things are filthy, it doesn’t deserve to stay. I am filthy and don’t deserve to stay…alive. The more I chew, the more I feel this plethora of life. Almost like a cleansing ritual. So many lips I’ve kissed. So many deaths I’ve had.”
I remembered Mike’s bruised lips from earlier and took out my notebook. I added more the list, realizing more and more.
Symptom #1: Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger).
Sidenote: Hostility-Irritability, hot temperedness; responding angrily to minor slights and insults
Symptom #2: Transient, stress-related paranoid thoughts/actions
Symptom #3: Emotional instability due to significant reactivity of mood (short, but intense displays of anxiety; strong emotions that wax and wane frequently)
Possible Schizotypy: Dissociation Proneness- Tendency to experience disruptions in the flow of conscious experience; experiencing one’s surroundings as strange or unreal
Side note: Excessive, unstable and poorly regulated emotional responses.
Symptom #4: Unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation. (Constant praising and bashing)
Symptom #5: Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment (Holding onto the unstable/toxic relationships)
Symptom #6: Identity disturbance
Sidenote: Possible low self worth
Symptom #7: Self-injuring behavior such as cutting, interfering with the healing of scars or picking at oneself (excoriation)