Twenty-four – Oliver

I wake up coughing but quickly curl up and bury my face into my pillow to suppress the sound. It's not long before the immense pain of hunger starts to spiral up in my stomach, starting as a small spark in the lowest pit of my stomach before it burns bigger and bigger to corrupt my while body with dizzying pain.

After coughing blood, I decided to stop taking stop taking any form of medication, just as an insurance. Although that meant I couldn't stay awake, even if I tried. Fighting to stay awake became even more exhausting than just giving in. I sculled water to try and put at least something in my stomach so I would stop vomiting stomach acid, now I just pray that the blood is from irritation. For a week and two days I've been stuck in my room, without sufficient food, without help, without anything but me and my disgusting suicidal thoughts. All I can do is drop in and out of feverish sleep and no one is going to know.

The last time I woke up was just before 11 AM, and Mum was already drowning herself in alcohol. I can imagine most of the money for the fortnightly bills has already been wasted in her attempt to drown all the problems I cause. 'It helps me, unlike you,' she would usually say. Maybe she's right, I've never wanted to help her a day in my life. I'm not sure many people would want to help someone who only hurts those around them. I know I cause problems, that's been made obvious since the day I was born. Nothing i do is enough for her, the only thing she liked about having a baby was the attention. Even today, I'm still causing issues. I've probably caused enough stress for Calvin. He probably hates me at this point, as soon as we get comfortable, I run away, never to be seen again. The only way he will see me again is if they put my picture on the TV when the news covers my murder. And Dad... he will have to go through all of that alone.

I run my hands through my hair letting out a long sigh, suppressing the tears that threaten to spill down my face. And to think I've been sitting here whining and not trying to help any of this. Maybe if I hadn't given in for so long, I might have been able to get out.

The fact I'm talking about this like its unavoidable is the scariest bit. My body is corrupted by pain and my mind is corrupted by darkness. A hellish and sickening combination and just what I need.

I hear mum drop a glass, shortly followed by very loud cursing. That's not the first glass I've heard her break, there's going to be a real mess for... well... crime scene cleaners? There's more swearing and what sounds like her pushing something. She's a lot madder today. She probably got fired from her job considering she's taken multiple shifts off and come home hours earlier than she's meant to for the past week. Not to mention the boss is sick of her and would jump at the chance to ditch her. Even though Mum couldn't care enough about working to hold a stable job she always takes getting fired very personally, which is pretty pathetic.

She then proceeds to slam the door to her room, and the quiet comes retreating back.

My head is on fire. The heat pulses from any point where my skin contacts something else. After all the fuss over the window, I really wish she didn't lock it. A breeze would do my fever some good.

Now that my Mum's gone, I might be able to run a bath. I'm scared to even turn the taps on or flush the toilet just because of her. I know that if i had to face her, I wouldn't come out on top, not anymore. The only thing I trust my mum will stay committed to is the threats she's thrown at me, so there's no doubt that as soon as I make a noise, she'll be there. But right now, she's on the opposite side of the house, so I'll take a risk.

I carefully make my way to the bathroom and over to the bath. I put the plug in the drain then turn the tap on fully, only on cold so i can try to shake the fever. The water slowly builds in the bath.

I hang over the basin while I wait for the bath to fill. I can't even recognise my reflection anymore. It's too skinny, too sick, too tired. I can't bare it. I don't want to go through this, no one would. I look along my arms, noting how much slimmer they are, following all of the cuts and bruises all the way up to my shoulders. I pull my shirt off. My ribs stick out even further than they used to. My skin is pale and discoloured and flaking in several places. My hair is so disgusting and messy, everything is.

I can't stand it. I was actually at an okay weight, if not slightly skinner, and now…

I stare into my reflection until it's distorted by tears. How do people suffer this much? Hell, how do people cause this much damage.

The bath splutters and snaps my attention back to reality. I strip my shorts and underwear before slipping into the bath. The cold water was a massive shock to my system even though my skin is in flames. I slowly sink in further and further, wincing at the cold and the painful stinging of the few open wounds. I sink until my eyes are just above the water, letting my tears hide with the water.

I dip my head under for a few seconds, then resurface. My hair dangles in loose curls over my eyes, I push it back. My head throbs from the cold. Everything is uncomfortable. Everything burns.

There's a empty weight in my chest. Something that strangles any normal thought out of my mind. It silences me, as if there was a lump in my throat. It beckons me, as if it's an answer to my suffering. I don't need to suffer.

I put my head under again. I stay under the water. I don't want to go back up.

My head starts to throb again. And I start counting... one, two, three

The heat settles across my cheeks, as I hold my breath.

Four... five, six, seven.

My head feels heavy. My thoughts fighting to be at the front of my mind.

Eight, nine... ten, eleven, twelve.

My throat tightens. I'm going to get better.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen...

My lungs burn, begging for air.

Sixteen... seventeen.

The surface taunts me. I open my eyes to see a distorted reality, the water bending the light around me, contorting objects, swirling colours.

Eighteen... nineteen... twenty.

I move my hands to cover my mouth, resisting the urge to resurface as my head pounds.

Twenty-one... twenty... two...

My vision struggles to look at anything in particular, the edges giving into darkness. Colours start to fade. I pinch my eyes closed. Please. Make this easy. The panic has completely set in, my heart rate exploding and falling irregularly.

I've lost count...

I can feel my body wanting to pull up, my brain has lost control. My pulse is loud in my head. Rising with the pressure of being trapped. Falling with the lack of oxygen. I feel my muscles begging to move...

I can feel time passing.

My lungs cease. An indescribable pain clutches my chest and my grip tightens around my mouth. Please... I try to open my eyes again but I can't tell if I do. I roll over onto my side, fighting my instinct as it screams at me. The pain stabs me through the chest again as the muscles in my chest contract. Trying to force my body to breathe.

I don't want this.

I shoot up quickly, dragging my hand of my mouth and taking in water as I do. I try to breathe between broken weeps and coughs. I collapse over the wall of the bath, cradling my head, desperately gasping. My vision is pitch black. I feel my gut churn as the water hits my throat and windpipe. My whole body heaves. My head is too heavy, I can't see, I can't hear. I can't tell through the pain if I'm vomiting.

I hate myself.

I don't know how long I slumped there. I don't know if I passed out, or when I woke up. I managed to drag myself from the bath, over the blood on the floor. I threw clothes on. I had to choke back tears and the overwhelming hate that was coursing through me as I climbed into bed and passed out.

- - -

I wake up to a loud bang and jolt upright. Instant regret hits me as strong pain shoots through me and disorients my vision. I cradle my head in my hands while I try to clear the fog from my brain and process what just happened. It was a bang. But I can't quite decide what caused it.

Without warning, Mum burst through the door. She stumbles her way across my room, dragging her feet and watching me with a very dangerous expression across her face. She grabs handfuls of fabric from my shirt and slams me against the bedhead.

"YOU PEICE OF SHH-" She stumbles over her words. The grotesque smell of alcohol abuses my senses as she breathes across my face. "You wouldn't guess who was just at the door," she slurs through gritted teeth.

My throat is tight and the blood pulses in my head. I don't bother talking.

"The neighbours. They're concerned after not seeing you go to school," she pauses as she tightens her hold on my shirt, "AND BECAUSE THEY'VE HEARD YOU IN THE HOUSE AFTER I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU WHAT I WOULD DO IF YOU WEREN'T QUIET!"

Honestly, I doubt it's me they hear. They would be smarter just to call the cops.

I'm not as scared as I have been around her, or at least not this time. I'm mad. My skin is crawling and my blood boils beneath it. I've run out of sympathy for my life. I prepared to ruin it to escape this monster.

I shove her off me, and answer harshly, "I doubt that's my fault."

That does not make her happy.

She punches the wall but she's so intoxicated it doesn't look like she can process the pain. "MAYBE IF YOU LISTENED TO ME, I WOULDN'T HAVE THIS PROBLEM!"

"Maybe if you put down the bottle for once and pulled your head in, you wouldn't be in this problem in the first place!" I retaliate.

"DON'T PAINT ME LIKE THE BAD GUY! IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A FUCK UP, I WOULDN'T HAVE TO DO ANY OF THIS!"

She inches closer to me, her devilish brown eyes burning with hatred. I lean towards her. throwing my arms out in anger, "SHUT UP!" Every emotion I've had to hide comes flooding out, intensifying my anger. "I'M NOT THE PROBLEM HERE! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S A SHIT PARENT! HELL, YOU'RE JUST A SHIT PERSON IN GENERAL WHICH IS WHY YOU'VE NEVER HAD A HEALTHY FAMILY!"

She lurches forward grabbing at my arms. I try to kick her away. I try to get her away from me. She hits me hard in my rib cage, winding me and rendering me useless for a second or two as I try to settle the churning in the pit of my stomach and the burning in my throat. But before I can recover, she grabs me and rips me off of the bed. I fall to the floor and watch her tall figure stand over me. Tears burn in my eyes as I try to ignore all the pain.

Anger winds up inside of me in tight coils. I feel like I'm bursting at the seams. The anger has nowhere to go and my frustrated, pained tears aren't doing anything to help that.

"YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN MY PROBLEM OLIVER!" She screams, "YOU'VE CAUSED ME TO GO DOWN THIS ROAD, AND YOU'VE CAUSE ME TO DO THIS TO MYSELF!"

I try to scramble away from her, awkwardly stumbling over random belongings. She delivers a crushing kick to my shin. Crack. A loud ringing fills my ears as burning pain shoots up my left leg. Sobs spill from me as the pain becomes too much. The churning in my gut rises and rises. I clasp a hand over my mouth to prevent myself from hurling.

"Maybe you should be more careful next time..." Mum says heartlessly, but I can barely hear her over the ringing.

She leaves, locking the door behind her.