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"Jeremy" Table of Content: |
Chapter 1: "Paul"“Sshh. Don’t cry. I’m not going to hurt you, baby. Come here,” the voice echoes in my head. His voice. I can’t get it out of my head. His damn voice will forever be embedded in my brain. I hate him. I hate him. Why? Why did he hurt me? I thought he was supposed to be my protector not my tormentor. “Jeremy…Jeremy…open up…it’s me…dinner’s ready…Please come out…you’ve been in there all day.” God it’s her again. I hate her. She’s the cause of my pain. It’s her fault. He told me himself. She knew what he was doing to me but she never stopped him. That bitch never helped me. I wish she would die. She continues to knock and plead for me to come out. Finally she gives up. Now I can continue what I was doing. I pick up the bloody razor on the floor. I cut a deep gash into my wrist and let the blood flow. It hurts like hell, but hey that’s the whole point right? I continue slicing my pale, bloody arms. The more I cut myself, the more the red ooze poured out onto the carpet. It’s starting to look like ketchup instead of blood. Hmm…I wonder what it tastes like. I licked some of the blood off my hand. It tastes sweet yet salty. I kind of like it so I keep doing it. I start to get dizzy from the blood loss so I stop. I look down on my brutalized arm and start crying. I throw the razor across the room. It lands on the floor near the garbage can. I’m too dazed to pick it up. Darkness starts to come over me as my limp body falls on the floor. My head bangs against the dresser but the pain feels good to me. I awake to find my arms caked in dry blood and drool dripping down my shoulder. I seriously need to stop drooling when I sleep. I pull myself off the floor, go to the bathroom to clean my arms, and take a long bath. After I get out, I get dressed, grab my jacket, and leave. As soon as I step outside, the cold air cut like icy daggers into my face. It was so cold it actually burned! But I’m not going to let that stop me. The streets are pretty dark. Guess it’s late. The walk to Paul’s house is long. The bitter wind pushes against me as I walk faster. I finally reach his house. He is sitting on the porch as usual. “Well look who’s here. I thought you weren’t going to come here no more,” he snickered as I walk up to him. I could clearly see he was drunk. When I reach the porch, he stands up and pulls me into his arms. His clothes reek of cigarettes and too much beer. “What are you doing here?” he asks into my ear. “You got what I want?” “Sure babe. You know I keep the good stuff for you. Here.” He slips his hands into his Dockers and pulls out a baggie with white powder. He puts it in my hands then starts laughing hysterically. “What are you laughing at?” He looks at me, stops laughing, and says, “You know you got to pay for that.” “Duh. Here. All I got is a $20. I’ll pay you the rest later.” I hand him the cash but he doesn’t take it. “You know what I want silly. Can I?” I stare at him, trying to figure out what he wants. I mentally slap myself as I remember. He wants to kiss me. I always let him since he never asks for more. “Yeah,” I tell him. His hands gently cup my face and he presses his lips to mine. The kiss is short and sweet. It sends shivers up my spine. I lock my arms around him and he does the same to me. I feel so safe in his arms. “So, what have you been up to?” he asks as we pull away. “Nothing much,” I reply, even though he knows I’m lying through my teeth. He always knows. “Can I see your arms?” he asks hesitantly. He grabs my left hand and starts gently pulling back my sleeve. He lifts it so that it doesn’t cause me any more pain. He sees the new cuts as well as the old ones. Sometimes he gets mad at me and tells me that it’s wrong. He gets pretty angry. Only this time, it’s different. Instead of anger, I see something else in his eyes. He was crying. Tears were slowly streaming down his face. He pulls me into his arms and sobs quietly. “I love you. You know that? You are the most beautiful creature on Earth, Jeremy,” he whispers into my ears. He always says things like that but it always sounds special to me. “Paul! Where are you?! Get in here right now! If you get sick, I ain’t taking care of you!” We jump upon hearing his step-mother’s voice. We both hated her. She made Paul’s life miserable. “Fucking bitch. One of these days I’m going to kick her fucking ass back to hell,” he growls. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. We’ll go to your house.” He grabs my hand and we stroll out of his porch. We walk the cold, bitter streets towards my house. |
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