Skeletons In The Closet

James slumped down onto the hard, black leather sofa, which James observed, took up the vast majority of space in their living room. Switching on the TV he decided he was thoroughly bored, depressed and…well…lonely, really. Kara was off on some girls-only holiday with her friends; Charlie was at home with Camilla and Matt was…well…James assumed that he was in his room, he couldn’t be quite sure these days where Matt was these days both physically and mentally.

Matt was different these days, and James failed to appreciate the change in his friend’s behaviour. Matt wasn’t the same energetic, jokey, magnanimous person he used to be and James, as well as Charlie, was failing to connect with him.

James had tried to put Matt’s change in behaviour down to the fact that he was tired. All three of them were – their job was emotionally and physically draining, but this idea was quickly quashed as James had gradually noticed other aspects of Matt’s increasingly erratic behaviour.

Matt was becoming increasingly anti-social; he spent most of his spare-time locked away in his bedroom. The only times he left the confines of his bedroom or alternatively his hotel room when they were away, was for work and in the small hours of the morning when he would go out on his own and not return until the break of dawn.

He wore long-sleeved tops all the time, even in swelteringly hot weather. And if he was made to wear anything shorter than long-sleeved tops by stylists, he refused to wear anything other than three-quarter length sleeved tops with sweatbands to cover up all of his exposed skin. At first, James had tried to put this down to Matt’s quirky dress sense, but when he realised it was happening all the time, James realised that something major was bothering Matt.

It worried James. They had always been so close. They knew each other inside out. They had just clicked when they met, could tell each other anything- well almost. James knew Matt had a few skeletons in his closet, but hey, that was fair enough, so did he. James reasoned that everyone did, it wasn’t a big deal. If Matt didn’t want to tell him certain things about his past it didn’t matter to him. The past, he always said, is where it belongs.

It made things weird at home though, since Charlie had moved out months previously, James was alone with Matt who was unwilling to talk to anyone. James was permanently on his own, and he felt as though he was going insane.

Matt was up in his room now, James could hear the faint shuffling as Matt moved around his room. As far as James was aware, Matt had only left his room once, this morning, when he had disappeared for hours on end, returning just before James had got out of bed. They had been given the weekend off to recuperate before heading off to America again.

James was brought from his reverie as the dark rain clouds overhead, that had been threatening to burst for most of the morning, suddenly gave in and rain began lashing at the window.

He turned his attention to the TV, as the News Presenter launched into yet another news item.

“…Yet another missing person has been reported in the Finchley area. A Mr. Graham Sailor was last seen two days ago, walking his dog in Victoria Park, in the early hours of the morning.  This is the sixth disappearance from the vicinity of Victoria Park in the last four months. The Metropolitan Police believe the disappearances are linked. If you have any information regarding this case please call the incident room on…”

James yawned, and stood up. He was home, bored and had nothing to do apart from maybe his laundry.

He tried to weigh the pros and cons of doing his dirty laundry and gave up deciding it made his brain ache.  Grudgingly, he gathered his dirty washing from his bedroom and clumsily made his way to the laundry room. Placing all of the offending items into the washing machine, James searched for some detergent.

James turned the radio on, sensing he might be there for a while. The news was on again.

“…skeleton of a man was found this morning in woods near Cockfosters. Police say this discovery is undoubtedly connected to the similar discovery of another skeleton two months ago…”

Spotting the nearly empty bottle of washing detergent on the top shelf, James with difficulty climbed on top of the washing machine and began routing around on the top shelf.

James pulled the bottle down from the shelf, annoyed at having to venture so far to do something he dreaded doing anyway. From his vantage point on top of the washing machine, James admired how different everything looked from a height, although this novelty soon wore off as James discovered it was quite boring. This room didn’t even have a window.

On jumping down from the washing machine, James brought down with him several baskets of Matt’s dirty washing with him.

“Bollocks.” James muttered, dropping to his knees to pick up Matt’s clothes. That was Matt’s problem, he was really good with the whole housework charade apart from actually doing his washing. He would leave it piled up in the laundry room  and wait until either James did it, or until he ran out of clothes altogether.

Sighing, James picked up Matt’s dirty washing and hurriedly shoved it back into the baskets, not paying much attention to what he was picking up.

“What the fuck?” James muttered, as his hands fell on some blood-sodden bandages. In an instant, the pieces of information in James’ mind sort of slotted together like a jigsaw puzzle, and James felt a sudden surge of anger at himself. How could he not have realised that Matt was self-harming? It all made sense now: the anti-social behaviour, the fact that he would only wear long-sleeved tops, the sweatbands he wore to cover up any visible skin.

Cursing himself, James made his way up to Matt’s bedroom.

James stood outside Matt’s bedroom. He felt nervous about confronting Matt about the bandages. He had no idea how Matt was going to react to him, they literally had not spoken in days.

James gently knocked on Matt’s door, still holding the blood-sodden bandages in his hands.

No answer.

James knocked again, a little louder this time. “Matt?” he said timidly.

No answer.

James gave up being polite, and turned the handle. Surprisingly, it was unlocked so James pushed the door open.

James was shocked by what he saw. Actually shocked is an understatement. Utterly disgusted and appalled would be somewhat close to how he was feeling, but it was just so…so…weird. James thought he was actually dreaming. Thought he was having an acutely disturbing nightmare.

Matt was stood in front of his mirror, topless. His skin was…well, the best way of describing it would be to say it was disintegrating. His arms didn’t even have any skin covering them, it was a mess of muscle, tissue, blood and bones. His back was covered in patches of raw skin, skin tones which didn’t even match his. It looked as though he’d had several skin grafts. James couldn’t stop himself from vomiting. It was a gut-wrenching sight to behold.

Matt spun around, shocked at the sudden intrusion.

“James? What are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice venomous. His eyes were skating with fire, he looked…evil.

“I…I…what’s wrong with you, Mattie?” James asked, his voice small and afraid.

“What’s wrong with me?” Matt asked, closing the distance between them, “I don’t know, James.” His voice now barely a whisper.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Something must have happened for you to become like that…” James stated, his confidence growing as Matt’s seemed to ebb away.

“I told you…I don’t know…I just woke up one day…and it was like this…it’s getting better now though…although I seem to be using up the skin more quickly…”

“What skin?” James asked, an awful sense of apprehension building inside.

“The skin I need to repair myself,” Matt replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “In a way, its almost like I’m a spider…y’know shedding my skin and all that, it just seems that my skin doesn’t grow back like a spider’s does.”

James felt sick. This was disgusting. He…he…he was almost shaking from the sheer vulgarity he felt towards his best friend at that moment.

“Where do you get the skin from, Matt?” James asked, his overwhelming urge to just turn and run was destroyed by his feelings of sick curiosity.

Matt didn’t bother replying at first, he just nudged open his wardrobe door with his foot, and James realised he didn’t need to answer. Everything slotted into place again, as James  fell to his knees, vomiting.

“I get it from them.” Matt said, indicating the skeletons in his closet.