Alone

 

    All of you can probably see everyone. At any given moment you know you will see someone you know. Well let me tell you a little secret. I can’t. When I see someone, people, all of you; I only see one person. Him. The look of anguish on his face, pain, disbelief, and the smallest hint of hate. It’s so small you have to know what your looking for.
    Now your asking, ‘Why are you looking for it?’. My answer is, I honestly don’t know. It’s automatic. To know that you put hate in someone. You don’t mean to, at least I don’t. It’s like a sickness, you pass it along, it’s never ending.
    I feel a hand on my shoulders. My eyes are at the point of crying, but I breath in quickly making it go away, I take my ear-buds out. You smiles your smile, the one you seem to only have. Your eyes wander around my drawing.
    “Why?” you ask.
    “It’s what I was feeling. I draw without truly noticing what I’m drawing. Sometimes I draw my feelings, or a picture that goes along to the beat of the song I’m listening to.”
    You nod, take your hand off, and walk over to a boy with his hand up. I can still feel the heat from your hand on my shoulder. It’s like your still there, it’s a weird feeling, like a ghost.


    -”Run far away! I can always find you!” It screams at me.
    “Leave me alone!”
    My heart beat is racing, my hands trembling, I can’t open the door. It keeps slipping, and I hear him coming with his demonic laugh.
    “Please open! Please, please, please!”
    I shut my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. Then I open them and I see my room. The red light of my TV showing that it is still off. My sheets are scattered over my bed and my leg hurts. Probably hit it against the wall, I tell myself. Then I see the mans face, his black hair, green eyes, and evil smile. I shut my eyes again, not opening them again until I wake up and have to go to school.  

I’m paranoid that morning sitting in your class. I jump at anything and you seem a little worried. You look at me and give me that  look that makes you look older than you really are. Then you look back at the book and ask the next person to read the next paragraph. When everyone is working on the questions to the section, you call my name. I walk over to your desk.
    “Yes?” I ask keeping my sleeves down. Not willing to show you the new marks yet.
    “How has your day been going so far?”
    “Good I guess.”
    You look at my sleeve and sigh, I can tell that that wasn’t your original question.
    “Whats wrong?” I sit down on the stool next to you.
    “Nothing, I just get a little worried sometimes about you.”
    “I don’t like people worrying about me.”
    “I know you don’t.”
    I get up and walk out of the classroom, I was the last one out. The rest of the day I looked out windows and pretended to pay attention.

    I scream holding my head tightly. The tears don’t stop coming, their like a never ending river. I punch the bed, the wall, the lamp breaking the bulb. I scream again, it hurts so much. My breakdowns are horrible, I need help. But i know they can’t help me, its to far along, and to deep inside me.
    Then suddenly I snap out of it. My crying stops, my eyes still show the signs of redness the crying causes. That's all though, my body is still tense, like usual. I pass out on my bed and my mind wanders. I see myself walking through the forest, like all my dreams start. I guess living where I live you tend to grow accustom to certain things. The woods are dark, but there’s patches of light everywhere. So it isn’t that dark.
    I can’t see the forest floor, mist has taken that sight from my view. I wonder to myself if the floor is nice. Probably not, filled with sticks, decaying leaves. To some maybe beautiful, but in scenery like the one here, completely horrifying. I look around and walk forward. My heart beat is racing, and I can feel the blood going through my veins.
    I blink once and I’m somewhere completely different. Its raining and I’m already soaking wet. There's huge crashes of thunder and then streaks of lightning. I start walking again and find myself on a sidewalk. There are houses around me, none of them look familiar. I walk by a particular house and as quickly as I look at it I look away.
    Horrible screams are coming out of it. I don’t like it at all. I want to run but I can’t, I swear I only blinked once and then I was inside that house. The screams had stopped and I walked further, holding my sides to keep from shaking to death. There was a staircase in front of me and it spiraled up towards the ceiling into a hole. My body moves for me, I scream at my mind to stop, I don’t want to go up there. But like those horror movies, I walk upstairs despite how scared I am.
    This room is different, from the rest. Blood plasters the walls and every time I look somewhere else the shadows move. I sit on the floor and I stare out the window. The rain streams down the window. I try moving, to leave this horrible room but I can’t move. Then someone comes out from the shadows towards me.
    He puts his hand on my chin and lifts my head up as though examining me. His smile is sweet, but I know deep inside he is horrible. I turn my head so he loses touch with my chin. All he dose is smile and step back. Then he takes out Polaroid pictures and lays them in front of me. They’re all of my family and friends.
    “Why do you have those?” I ask.
     He doesn’t say anything just smiles and puts them all in a neat pile. His hand moves swiftly into his pocket and he takes out an already lit match. He sets it on the photos and they burn. Screams fill my head as if the people in the pictures were really being burned. I shut my eyes and wake up in my own room.  
    My blood is racing through my veins again, it’s horrible. Since his death, I’ve had bad dreams almost every night. I get up, knowing that I won’t get back to sleep. I have an hour head start on everyone.
    My eyes keep closing because of how tired I am. Every time I close my eyes I see Mat and I don’t want to open them. But then I remember that I have my straightener heating up and I open them again. I look at my eyes, then my face in general. There's so much I wish I could change about myself.
    My hair is dyed because I want to look different. Keep people guessing what I’ll do next. I run my fingers through my hair, trying different ways to put it up. But my idea always falls flat, and I keep my hair down. Then I look at my arm, I run my fingers over the scars. I have 19, but two are new. Soon I’ll have 21.
    I run the straightener through my hair, it’s not as straight as it could be, but it’ll have to do for now. I walk downstairs and sit on the couch, the dog comes over and jumps up with me. He lays his head down and I curl up next to him. I love putting my head on his back and listen to him breath. It makes me happy, it also calms me. 
(I'm still working on this, but I'll post more as I write more)