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The sunset bathes the open farmland in an orange and pink glow. The old metal windmill creaks in the light summer breeze. I remember it as if it was yesterday. The hay bale rides in the autumn. The sweet hot cocoa down by the old farmhouse. The way it smelled of cinnamon, and the heat of the milk and the cold against my nose. The way you used to take your harpoon down to the lake, and we’d watch the fish swim by. You’d raise it towards the edge of the water and try to get one right in the center.
“Damint! Damnit! Goddamn fish!”
You’d say it like it was their fault you never caught one. The river curves and bends against the rocks. My notebook with my drawings of various things. Like the old creaky bridge that connected us to town. We’d rush by with kites in the spring, hoping the gusts of winds would carry them into the heavens...
Drinking one cold one after another as I numbingly down every single drop of gin left in the bottle. I keep playing this stupid game, pressing the buttons as I keep dying repeatedly. I don't even know why I bother anymore. It just reminds me everyday of my meaningless life. I keep dying over and over again, everytime I think, everytime I speak.
Knock. Knock.
“What?” I slur.
My mom creaks the door open and looks at me with a concerned expression. I smell the chili from the kitchen, she must’ve been cooking all day. Her checkered apron is covered with red powder. She reaches towards her chest and she squeezes her hands together.
“Will you please come down for dinner?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Please it’s not good for you, you have to eat–”
“Are you deaf? I said I’m not hungry!” I exclaim.
Her eyes water as she shuts the door and I can hear her crying all the way down the hall with her heels clicking. I slam my headset onto the floor, and the case cracks loudly as I slump down. I start to shake again. My wrists are starting to itch, the doctor says that’s normal. The cracks in my wrists, the tender flesh around the marks where I slashed the hell out of them. Everything about my life sucks and I keep dying in this stupid game.
My life is a fucking joke. I got a full ride to a prestigious university and instead of meeting people and creating a life for myself I decided to go ahead and do something stupid like that. Now I’m permanently in this hellhole that I hate, surrounded by memories I’d rather forget. Every night the stars come out and I remember all the stupid things I said to you thinking you’d felt the same about me.
“Well, um…”
I flop down on the bed, and squeeze the pillows between my ears. Shut up! Shut up you idiot! I keep watching the stupid memory replay over and over in my head. There was a shooting star that night and you asked what I wished for. Sitting on top of the roof with that stupid grin you always used to wear. The one I can’t get out of my head anymore. It used to heal something inside my soul but now all it does is eat me alive.
“I get it, you aren’t supposed to talk about it.”
“No – I can tell you. It’s stupid though, you’ll probably think it’s stupid. I wished — well — ”
Shut up you moron! Shut the fuck up!
“I wished you were a girl so we could be together. Is that stupid?”
His eyes widened and he slowly backed away from me. It was like I’d been possessed by something. He smiled creepily, without any light inside his eyes.
“Ew, what is wrong with you?”
I reached for his hand with my hand and he quickly snapped back. He looked at me back and forth as if he was processing what I had said.
“What a freak you are! I should’ve seen it. God I’m stupid.”
He slid down the metal railing and onto the porch. I followed behind him and grabbed his shoulder from behind. He jumped as if I was contagious, even though when we were young boys running through the family corn fields he’d grab me and jump on my shoulders.
“Gotcha!” he’d yell.
I’d fall into the stalks and he’d start pummeling on me with his fists. I’d laugh and tell him to stop but he’d keep wailing as if he were trying to rough me up. Really it was just something we did for fun.
He kept walking away from me as if suddenly I was a stranger. We walked into the kitchen where all the lights were off.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said.
“Get out of my house, please, just – go.”
I sighed and looked tenderly at him as he avoided my eyes. I could see the pain and uncomfortableness in the way he moved around me as I walked towards the front door. I paused as if I wanted to say sorry one more time, but I didn’t.
As I shake, I feel the weight of the pillows against my head. I start falling into myself again. Everyday after that was different. My life was ruined. He never talked to me again. Every bond was broken because of my stupid mouth. Standing by the lockers the next day, one of my classmates ran into me. At first I thought it was an accident and I ignored it but then he did it again. Slamming me into the side of the locker and then laughing.
“Hey girlie,” he laughed, “are you forgetting something?”
I gave him a weird look.
“I don’t get it,” I said, “what’s the joke.”
“Your boyfriend wanted you to have this.”
My eyes widened as he handed me a long beautiful silk dress, I looked at it and felt the fabric between my hands. Boyfriend? Did he mean — I felt everyone’s eyes staring at me and a few people were laughing. My cheeks felt hot as everyone joined in on the mocking. He pressed my head against the locker and slammed it a few times. Obviously as a warning of his strength.
“Well what are you waiting for princess? Put it on.”
The audience started to cheer and laugh and take pictures and videos of me standing there helpless. I slowly reached my head into the top and wiggled it down over my slender body. My face was hot red as everyone stood there laughing at me. Eyes watering I ran into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked ugly in a dress and not to mention it felt uncomfortable. The door opened and I panicked. I saw you standing there. You looked shocked at first but then you walked past me.
“You told them?” I asked.
“I don’t like you in here with me. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
My eyes looked down at the dress and tears started flowing again.
“How could you? How could you do this to me!”
I burst through the bathroom door, I could hear him yelling at me from the bathroom. I ran towards the front of the school as people mocked me and laughed. Before I could leave the principal blocked my path. He was stern and frowning. He led me into his office and shut the door without saying a word.
“These people are harassing me. I don’t know what I did to deserve this…”
“Maybe it’s because you are wearing a dress. You know it’s against the school dress code right?”
I swallowed hard, “it’s not what it looks like – I was forced to –”
“I don’t know what you queers do in your free time and frankly I don’t care, but please try to be respectable looking at school. I’ll let you off with a warning, but please go change in the nurse's office.”
I go to the nurses office, completely dejected. She hands me a pair of jeans and a big tee shirt. I put them down on the cot and wiggle out of my dress. She opens her mouth as if I’ve done something wrong, but then her eye twitches as if she understands.
“I’m sorry sweetie,” she says, “kids can be so mean.”
She is so nice to me — why is she so nice? All the people I’d ever known, all the people I was close to have abandoned me. Yet here she is showing me kindness. I can’t stand it! I pull my shoulders up, slide my hands into my pockets, and shake my head.
“Don’t act like you care,” I say.
She frowns as I walk out of the office.
“You’re a good kid, ——“
She says my name but I can’t remember it. All it sounds like is noise. I look at her with disdain.
“I’m late for class.”
Then slam. It’s all over. And every day is the same. The taunting, the teasing. Nobody stops it. Nobody steps in. It’s all fine and whatever. I deserve it I guess.
I sigh and bury myself into my pc again, wiping the silent tears off my face and onto the desk in front of me. I can’t remember anything after that in this world. I don’t know anything anymore. That’s when I met everyone else.
Ragatha, she’s so nice and sweet and kind. Everything I used to be before. A few whatever’s pass, and one day she sits besides me, alone, and nudges me with her arm.
“Come on Jax, there must be something you aren’t saying. Nobody goes out of their way to be mean.”
“Is that so?” I ask, “you think I’m nice underneath all this or something that I’m a good person. Give me a break.”
“So are you going to tell me or what?” Ragatha asks. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”
I look her in the eyes and for some reason I trust her. I shouldn’t, but I do.
“…you’ll be disappointed,” I say.
“Try me.”