Page 69 of Expressionate
My eyes burn. There are monsters here, crawling under my skin. Into my mind. He’s right. Danny is the only one who knew before I opened up to Tax, and then it was so easy for Tax to let me go. I hurt him and I couldn’t even protect Trisha. Even when I thought I had moved on and could go away, Danny had found me. It doesn’t matter how. Maybe it was just the universe reminding me. Maybe I truly do belong with him. I end the call without saying anything more. The only problem with these monsters is that I can’t go back to the darkness and I can’t let them hurt anyoneelse.
I can’t be in this fucking room. When I look at the bed, now, I see Tax curled around me. When I look at the desk, I see that fucking typewriter he gave me. When I look out the window, even the fucking sunset makes me think of the fire in his eyes. I stumble out of the bedroom and into the hall, making my way to the bathroom. Danny’s words make me feel unclean because I am unclean. I turn the water on. When it’s scalding hot and steam starts to rise, I jerk back the curtain and get in. The water hits my skin, immediately making it sting and flush an angry red, but I don’t care. I let the burning liquid pour over me. The pain makes my mind close down. Or at least it gives the illusion of a blank mind. When really the monsters have entered me and turned me –I’mthe monsternow.
My palms hit the shower wall and even this fucking sanctuary reminds me of the night Danny texted me and Tax and I showered together. Tears burn at the back of my eyelids and I smack my forehead into the tile.It hurts,the little girl is crying as she tries to hold her wounds closed.Good, I think. I deserve to hurt. I ruin everything. If I hadn’t been born, Anne wouldn’t be like she is. If I hadn’t been born, Trisha could’ve been happy. Trisha wouldn’t be in the hospital and Lawrence may have never entered herlife.
I turn off the shower and step out, my feet slip as they touch the cold floor. I fall, and my head smacks against the hard edge of the plastic tub. I blink, small tiny black dots dancing in my field of vision. It hurts, and my hands come up to check for blood. There is none. I lie there on my bathroom floor feeling all of the warmth slowly deplete. I’m so fucking tired. I can’t ever leave this place again. If I’m going to keep Tax safe, Trisha safe – I can’t ever see themagain.
No!The little girl screams.You can’t do that. We need them!I shake my head. No. Neveragain.
She growls at me, almost as wild and feral as Tax. It makes sense, he created her after all.It’s going to be okay,she says.We’ll be okay. Tax will come. We’ll be strong enough and Tax will come.I can’t let thathappen.
You know what you need to do…Danny’s words echo in my mind. He’s right. About me, about everything. I do know what I need to do, but it’s probably not what I had inmind.
As if sensing where my monsters are leading me, the little girl struggles against her prison.No!
What’s worse, I wonder, than knowing I shouldn’t exist, than knowing that I’m beyond saving…is pretending that I’m not. Pretending like I’m normal. Exhaustion tugs at my bones, calling me to a dark, dark place and I go willingly. There’s no fucking use fighting itanymore.
You have to!she calls.You have to fightit!
I already feel dead. What’s the problem with making it official? Everything would be better. It would stop hurting so much. Coils of vines wrap around my insides, their thorns stabbing deep and leaving me bleeding out on the bathroom floor when I realize where my thoughts are leading. I know Trisha will cry, but it’s better this way. I stand up and look down, realizing that I never took off my underwear. The fabric is soaked, but dark enough that it’s not see through. Instead, the underwear is an unwashed, nondescript gray tone. Fitting for my personality – nondescript, boring, dirty. I turn the tap back on and plug the bottom of the tub, letting it start to fill. Trisha will remember me, and I wish I could save her from that torture, but I can’t. This is all I cando.
I trudge out into the hall and into the kitchen. Pills. I’m sure Beverly left her sleeping pills here when she left. I saw them just the other day. I hunt through the cabinets before I come across the orange bottle. Just take two it says. Maybe I’ll take four, maybe I’ll take more. More will do what I should have done a long time ago. When they’re in my hand, the girl starts screaming – high pitched and echoing, like a child beingmurdered.
I walk back to the bathroom, but I walk slower, listening to the sounds of the apartment. The running water, my wet footsteps against the linoleum of the kitchen and then the flooring of the hall, people talking in the hallway – so close, but so distant. Despite my best efforts, Tax ripped down my walls and destroyed any semblance of who I was, and I can’t really ever be numb again, no matter how much I long for it. What’s even scarier than that is that this darkness is what I’m used to. It’s addicting. It’s familiar, comfortable. Like an old friend come back to visit, pulling me into the shadows and wrapping their arms around me, reminding me that this is where I well and truly belong. If I want to be good then I have to do this. In the depths of my pain, I deserve to suffer. There’s nothing good about me. There is a silence in my worthlessness that I cravedeeply.
Please don’t do this.Her sobs cut in and out, her pain tugging at me, trying to make mestop.
My mind takes a turn as I come to the doorway of the bathroom. What abouthim? What about Tax? I told him it was over, I remind myself. It’s not like he really caredanyway.
He does, the little girl in my mind argues. She’s angry and terrified. She bangs against the walls of my mind as I set the pills on the edge of the tub and step in.Please, she begs. I honestly wish I didn’t have to. There is no alternative, though.What about a letter?she asks.You can’t leave them with nothing.I know she’s stalling for more time. But a letterisa good idea. Isn’t that what other people do when they do this? Maybe I can tell Trisha not to worry and not to be sad. She’ll be mad at me and hurt if I don’t at least saygoodbye.
I step out of the tub again, water running down my legs and turn off the tap. It’s only halfway full.How should I do this?I think. Email? Paper? Phone call? I know she won’t hear the message on her voice mail until it’s too late. I don’t think so though. I’m much better at writing than talking. So which is it, email or paper? Paper seems more personal. I head towards my room and sit at my desk. I take a moment to appreciate that this is probably the last time I will be here. I run my fingertips over the pale worn wood. I need to do this. It’s important. I have to make sure the people I care about can be happy. I have to make sure Trisha ishappy.
Tax won’t be happy, the little girl pipes up.He’ll be angry. He’ll be hurt. Do you want to hurt him again?She shoves the barbs deep, letting them puncture me. What she doesn’t understand is that this pain is nothing like what I’ll suffer if I choose the only other way out. I can’t go back. I can’t let Danny have meanymore.
Grabbing a fistful of paper from my desk drawer and a black ink pen, I ignore her. My breathing – loud even to my own ears – echoes throughout the bedroom. The paper crumbles in my fist and I throw it. My hand touches the typewriter when I do and I still, staring down at it. A sharp rage tears through me and I shove the heavy machine off my desk. It tumbles to the floor scratching the wood of my desk, a piece of the antique typewriter breaking off and sliding somewhere else in the room. My hands hurt, as though they are fighting the turmoil inside. But it’s too late. I can’t besaved.
I HATE YOU. Her words mean to hurt me, but they don’t. Because I don’t blame her. I hate metoo.
* * *
17 yearsold
It’s over.I’ve done it. I had sex with Danny so that he’d let me stay with him. I need a place and he has one. This is the only thing he’s asked for. It actually doesn’t feel as disgusting now that it’s over. It’s different from my first time. It feels almost good, sort of, like a massage except maybe harder and only in one part of my body, and sweatier, and well...It’s not so bad. I can live like this. Danny groans and rolls out of bed. I stiffen, freezing with my hands on the sheets and my body turned to the side.Don’t look at me. Don’t say anything. Don’t look at me. Don’t sayanything.
“That was good,” he yawns disobeying my internal wishes. I shift and cover up with the yellow sheets on his bed. He looks at me and shakes his head. “No, no, darl’n,” he laughs. “I wanna see what I’m paying for. If you’re gonna stay here, I wanna peek when I feel like it.” He waits, his eyebrow lifted. What do I do in this instance? I suppose he’s right, but still…what do women in movies do? They play hard to get. Even though I already know I’m caught, still, Ifight.
“Why should I let you have it whenever you want?” I challenge. “I should make you work for it.” His eyes flash, and he grabs the edge of the blanket, yanking itaway.
“Iamworking for it, you Bitch,” he chuckles darkly, crawling up from the foot of the bed. His hand runs up the outside of my thigh. “I’m letting you stay here until you get on your feet. I’m taking care of you. I put a roof over your head and food in yourbelly.”
“Not for free,” I accuse. Though, why would I expect someone like him to help someone out for anything less thanthis?
“Are you saying you don’t like it?” he asks his hand cupping my right breast. I have to temper myself and keep from recoiling. His hand grips andsqueezes.
“I never said that,” I deadpan. I won’t admit that I absolutely despise his touch on me. Otherwise, I would have nowhere else to go. Being Danny’s plaything is a lot better than being with Anne, I tell myself. At least this is mychoice.
“Of course you didn’t,” he whispers, kissing my ear. His tongue comes out and enters it and I shudder against my will, but he takes it to mean that I’m excited rather than disgusted. “You wouldn’t lie to me, now, would you, little girl?” Danny licks my neck. I hate it when he calls me that. His tongue feels slimy and I want to cut it off. I don’t want it on me. He moves lower and I have to keep my breathingsteady.
