The next week I spent mostly in my room, locking myself away from everyone and only emerging for meal time or if I had to use the bathroom. Once more I cursed that I didn't have my own bathroom and had to encounter the rest of my family if I needed to use it. Subsequently I kept my bathroom uses to an absolute minimum.
The positive thing was that I always felt numb for several days after I had harmed myself, so I was at least not sad or any other emotional pain. Unfortunately this numbness also meant that I had no desire to do anything and by that I really mean anything. A lot of time was spent simply staring into nothingness and being physically aware of the numbness in my body, I was unable to do anything else. It's not like I didn't want to do anything else, it was just that nothing felt right to me. As soon as I started something I already wanted to stop again and after a while I didn't even bother wasting my time starting to do anything. Back to sitting around and intently staring at the pattern on my walls and ceiling.
If anything then I listened to music. Mom might have taken away my CD's and CD player, but I still had my Spotify subscription and a good pair of headphones. Rarely had I ever been more thankful for music, though I'll admit, I was pretty grateful for it on a daily basis. It stopped me from having a complete mental breakdown and that was enough for me.
I didn't even take a shower for several days until on day five I felt so gross that I dragged myself into the bathtub and scrubbed at my skin and scalp until my skin was red and I felt better. It took me a good ten minutes to untangle to mob of curly hair on my head that I hadn't brushed once since the beginning of this I was also painfully aware of the roots growing out; something that looked even worse when your natural hair was lighter than the color you dyed it to. A look into the mirror also told me that I had dark circles, even darker than usual, under my eyes and that somehow the green was shining less than usual.
My energy wasn't enough to also shave so I left that for another time and just pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie, there wasn't really anything else in my wardrobe that I wanted to wear anyway. All my band shirts were gone, leaving me with little room to work with and I was certainly not going to wear Lousia's clothes again.
Unfortunately the hot water also washed away my numbness so now I was left with a whole lot of anger again and that I didn't know what to do with. I decided to call Nate.
"Allie?" he asked when he picked up, concern filling his voice.
"Hi Nate," I said quietly, it was good to just hear his voice again.
"Allie are you alright? I didn't hear from you since Monday,"
"I'm... fine. Now anyway. Sort of..." I rambled. I felt a sting of guilt for not even having checked in with him after what had happened on Monday. I could have at least texted him and asked him how he was doing, surely he had gotten some sort of punishment from his parents.
"Did you get bad again?" he asked and I could almost see his eyebrows furrow in concern as if he was standing right in front of me. I would have liked for him to hug me but that sadly wasn't an option at the moment and would have to wait until the next Monday.
"You could say so..." I whispered, "Mom took everything. My jewelry, my merch, my CD's, my laptop..."
"What?" Nate asked outraged.
"Yeah, I was able to keep her from taking my phone and my art stuff but... I was too depressed to paint or draw anything," I admitted.
"What did you do then?"
"Sat on my armchair. Lay on my bed. Stared at my wall for hours. The usual."
A sigh came from the other end. "Paint something. Or draw I'm not picky. For me, yeah?"
"What am I supposed to paint or draw? I have no idea what," I protested, really not feeling up to making any art.
"I don't know, it literally doesn't matter though. Draw the Homesick Soldiers boys if it helps you. You have such a beautiful imagination, do something with it. Don't just stare at walls and let your mind decay."
"Maybe I will," I assured him, just so he would drop the topic, "how was school?"
"Boring as always. The others miss you if that makes you feel any better. Especially Cassie, she's the only girl now." I practically heard his smirk.
It made me laugh after all. "Yeah I can imagine. Y'all are dumbasses."
Weirdly enough it did make me feel better. My friends were the only thing worth living for these days, so hearing that they missed me made me at least feel loved, something that I didn't feel in this house.
"Mr Simmons said he feels kind of bad," Nate went on.
"Good, he deserves it," I said bitterly, the good feeling of being loved from three seconds ago instantly gone.
Nate sighed again. "Don't be so hard on him, he did what he had to do."
"And it resulted in me being in this awful state. I'll thank him personally on Monday."
"Don't get yourself into more trouble Allie, it's not worth it."
I didn't react.
"There's something else. I'm not sure if you want to hear it." He sounded a bit nervous now. "Actually I'm rather sure you'll be angry."
"Tell me," I demanded. He couldn't just not tell me now.
Nate was quiet for another moment but then spoke after all. "There will be a speech in a few weeks on guns. But not like you would like it. It's pro-gun and part of some political agenda."
"They're sending people into schools now to advertise guns?" I asked in disbelief.
"Like I said, it has to do with some political rally or something."
"This is unbelievable."
"I know. I just don't think it's worth getting into even more trouble for," he said as if he knew my mind was already plotting.
"Nate, let me judge that for myself, okay? You don't have to be part of anything if you don't want to get into trouble."
"Allie," Nate sighed, "you know I won't just let you get into trouble alone, right?"
I heard the grin on his face and sighed. "I guess not. But I'll need more information on it anyway, I'll have to wait until I'm back in school."
The idea of someone giving a speech on how good guns were, possibly encouraging young people to buy a gun as soon as possible disgusted me and kept spooking around my head. I was enraged, to put it simple. Enraged enough that at about four in the morning, when I hadn't even slept yet but only stared into the dark for hours, I crawled out of my bed and stumbled thorough the darkness to my painting supplies. I turned on my standing lamp and found everything that I needed, some A3 sheets of paper, some brushes and acrylic paint. I didn't even bother to sit down at my desk or use my easel, I just sat down on the floor and started painting.
After a good forty-five minutes I looked at my finished work. I had painted a red gas mask with black blood puring from it's eyes, a bulled wound gaping on it's right temple, black blood puring from that, as well. There was a machine gun underneath it. Lastly I painted the words 'THE NEW AMERICAN DREAM?' underneath it and was satisfied with my work.
Impatiently I laid the paper aside to dry and took the next one, a new idea had sprung into my head. This time the painting showed a grave. The headstone read 'HERE LIES THE FUTURE OF OUR GENERATION' and it was surrounded by several forget-me-not's. There was also a welcome mat reading 'HOME SWEET HOME' in front of it. Here I also painted 'THE NEW AMERICAN DREAM?' underneath and placed it on the floor next to the other one, taking up the next one immediately.
This one was a bit more... visual. It showed a person, painted only in black as though they were a shadow, hanging from the ceiling, his neck snapped in half and in a noose. Red blood trickled out of where his mouth would be, a chair was lying next to him. On a chair in the foreground sat a man with a gun in his hand that was aimed at the hanging person. Once more I painted 'THE NEW AMERICAN DREAM?'.
After all I was satisfied with my work. My hands and forearms were covered in paint here and there, a few specks were also on my legs and even on my shirt but I didn't mind. I looked at the paintings and a great satisfaction filled me as I thought to myself that they would look great as posters.
I got an idea.