Thursday
Dylan's plan had worked successfully. We had stayed in the attic, refused dinner, to which Mrs. Reed did not agree with, so she left us some leftovers by the door. Dylan didn't allow me to eat it. By eleven at night we'd left the attic and creeped into Dylan's room. He'd ordered me to sleep on the floor directly, but even so I had no comfortable sleeping position and I had barely gotten any sleep. However, I couldn't do my homework because like sleep, there was no position I was comfortable in that also allowed me to write; let alone think with the pain that was clouding my head and aching my body badly. Instead, I had spent the rest of the evening trying to stand up and walk normally so I could go to school without alarming anyone. Dylan was pleased.
"Get up!" Dylan yelled as he nudged me. He sounded panicked again.
"We're gonna be late for school," he said. I tried standing up, which took me a whole minute to do. My back still boiled with pain as I grunted while I walked.
"Damn it, Jamie!" Dylan said. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the bathroom built in his room. I gargled the mouthwash he had and washed my face. Dylan told me to take off my clothes and I did, as I stayed in my underwear with my back slouched from the pain.
I looked at the mirror behind me and gasped. I couldn't even recognize myself. My hair was much lighter and my eyes were darker. My cheekbones were visibly hollow and my lips were a pale color. My back is what scared me most.
Red lashes were splattered across my body like open cuts ready to be infected. They crossed each other like knives, each one straighter and deeper than the other. It was like shards of glass were dropped on my back and hammered right into it. Crusted blood gathered between the lashes and fresh blood was visible. I wanted to throw up.
Dylan pulled me away from the mirror and into the shower where he splashed me with hot water. I covered my mouth to muffle the screams that escaped my lips, and Dylan smiled at me victoriously. I didn't care he was naked with me in the shower; it was the last thing on my mind. The water seeped through the open cuts and sizzled my insides as I cried out in terror of the pain. Dylan laughed and covered his hand over mine to muffle my screams even more. I was too weak to punch him, or even slap him across the face.
The knock on the door took its effect, anyway.
"Dylan?" Mr. Reed said through the door. Dylan's smile was wiped off his face as he put a finger right to his lips.
"Yeah?" he said as he turned off the water. Cool air whipped my back sympathy as I found a moment of comfort. It felt good.
"Where's Dylan?" he asked.
Dylan choked. "Oh, uh, he's up in the attic getting something, I think. I'll get him now," he said.
"Alright. His mother just dropped off some fresh clothes so I'll give it to him," his dad said. Dylan looked even more terrified.
"No!" he yelled out. "I mean I'll give it to him. He's in his underwear upstairs and won't like it if you walked in on him. I'll give it to him now," Dylan said.
"O-kay," Mr. Reed said as he finally left us alone.
"That was a close one," Dylan whispered. I couldn't say anything but nod.
We got out of the shower and dried ourselves. I patted myself dry, or at least attempted to. It hurt to touch the cuts, let alone rub a towel against them. My hair was still wet but being cold felt good. Dylan put on his underwear and opened the bathroom door.
"Get dressed quickly and don't be a little bitch about it," he told me as he kicked my bag of fresh clothes from his bedroom towards me.
I bit my lip to keep from groaning against the pain and it took me a lot of effort and tolerance of pain to put on my uniform. I tied my shoes in a hasty knot as I grabbed my backpack from Dylan and hurled it over my back. That stung like hell.
"Let's go, Sarah's waiting. Act normal," Dylan said as he hung his backpack from his shoulder. Sarah?
It hurt to walk and it hurt even more to pretend nothing was wrong with you while you pretended to walk "normally". Sarah waved at us and we waved back automatically. I sat at the backseat behind Dylan while Dylan sat next to his girlfriend. He looked at me from behind the seat as he inched towards Sarah and grabbed her face, planting a long and deep kiss which caught both me and Sarah off guard.
She giggled. "Well good morning to you too.
*
Something was different today, I noticed. Students no longer greeted me after they had somehow collectively waged war against Dylan, but that wasn't new. What was new was how they actually looked at me, like I was a mummified corpse in a museum.
I left Sarah and Dylan to walk to their lockers alone as I took my own course. My back hurt like hell, and pain was still sky-rocketing in my body.
Travis and the old gang noticed me, too. I walked past them, ignoring whatever people were saying. I knew I looked like shit. I felt like shit. I was shit, at least that was what I was worth.
"Jamie?" I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. Travis.
"Hey," I could only say.
"Are you okay, man?" he asked me. I looked around and noticed my old friends were still looking at me.
"Never better," I said with a smile. Travis obviously didn't buy it as he didn't give up badgering me.
"Listen, man, you look like you're sick or something. I'm just worried. You look like death itself," he said. Typical Travis metaphors.
I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and winced, but he didn't seem to notice the wince.
"Whatever."
I walked away from him and into class.
I hated how Dylan made me hate myself, too.