Chapter Text
30/10/2008
My wrist burns and itch, last night I gone too hard on myself, couldn't even patch myself up properly before I past out. Bloodied tissues scattered around my bed, the razorblade laying next to me with some blood dried to it. There was blood smudged on my bed sheets as well, great, i'm going to need to clean them again. I slowly sat up, the motion itself straining against my scars, I don't want to accidentally open them up again. I slowly crawled over to the end of my bed, checking my phone.
"3 missed calls from Simon''
Shit... He's going to be pissed off... Oh well, at least I get to talk to him at school... First I gotta clean this shit up before dad catches me, I have 1 hour before I need to go to school. Stumbling out of bed towards my bedroom door, slowly opening it and making my way to the bathroom just across from my room. Luckily dad is like always drunk off his ass with a hangover, hes probably still past out on the couch downstairs. When I turned on the light in the bathroom I had to be faced to face with one of the most hideous woman alive in the mirror, Rayz. Her scruffy short black hair is an eyesore, her jawline is too masculine, I can see her stubble. Those mismatched eyes look too inhuman, her shoulders are too wide, she looks like a man in a dress. Though I wish it wasn't, that man in a dress staring back at me from the cracked mirror was me.
I sighed and reluctantly took the hydrogen peroxide and band-aids out of the cabinet and walked back into my room. I used one of my already used bloodied tissues and put some peroxide on it, beginning in trying my best to clean out the blood stains on my sheets, but only slightly cleaning it. Whatever, this is taking to long. I dumped most of the bottle onto my sheets and blanket before throwing it away. Watching the bubbles fizz with a brownish red. Welp, time to patch myself up... I lazily took out some band-aids and slapped them over each one of my cuts on my wrists and thighs, a few on my waist. Boredly looking out the window as students walk by, heading to school. I always wished that I could get to walk to school with a friend-group but instead I just took the bus everyday, I hated taking the bus, it was always so noisy but I live far away from school so I have too or else my dad would beat me again for being late.
After I finished patching myself up I walked out my bedroom, quietly making my way downstairs trying not to awake my father. For lunch all I ate was a simple biscuit with a glass of water. I sat at the table, eating the biscuit in small bites while staring out into space. I wonder what Simon's morning routine is like, does he have an English breakfast? Or does he have pancakes... He doesn't seem like the type to like sweet things. I somehow was able to choke down my biscuit and water without puking I walked back up stairs and got dressed in my school uniform, the British male school uniform... Wearing this feels like wearing a sign on your back saying "Kick me" I wish i could get the cute girl one, the plaid skirt looks so pretty but i'm stuck in trousers. I glanced over to the closet, seeing an old red dress with a black lace I used to wear when I was a kid buried under boxes. I remember being a young child, dressed in that dress and in my grandma's old heels in the basement of my old home in France. I used to dress in drag when I was younger, sloppily applying make-up and putting on wigs. In that basement was my grandma's old clothes and makeup after she passed, when she was still alive she was always the type of woman to dress up.
Last time i ever wore anything feminine was when i was 12 and my father walked in on me dressed in drag, he was furious and beat me till I was past out on the floor while screaming about how I'm going to hell and I'm a sissy man. I blacked out on the floor with a broken bloodied nose and when I woke up all the boxes of clothing were gone, still to this day I don't know what he did with them. But I was able to save one dress, my favorite one, that lacy red dress, yet after that incident I never wore it again. I wanted to but I can't bear myself to wear it again, it'd remind me what it felt like to get beaten by him, the thought alone makes me shutter. The ringing of my phone breaking my train of thought, scrambling to pick it up. My ringtone is the intro of Boys Don't Cry from my favorite band, The Cure. How ironic...
"Oi, Martin, where are you? I've been standin' outside school for an hour now." The familiar British accent rang through the phone, it being the voice of Simon. He always goes to school early in the morning and just expects I do too. "Simon, school doesn't start for another... 40 minute... I haven't even brushed my teeth yet." I sighed, the phone resting on my bed as I put my white button up shirt on. "I'm aware, but I don't wanna to be late.'' Jesus... ''It's fine to be worried with bein' late, but you don't need to walk to school when it's still dark out!!" I shouted back, him only responding with, "... Fair, but daylight savings time is a thing." Before I could scream at him how stupid that sounded he hung up on me. "... Ugh... Why do I have a crush on this man?"
Now that I'm fully dressed in my prison uniform I laid in bed, putting on black nail polish. The most feminine thing I can wear without my dad noticing, some of the nail polish on my skin surrounding my nails but I didn't care, it felt comforting to wear, like a second skin almost. I stared at my nails as the polish dries, what if I tried to look more pretty today- No, handsome. More handsome, not look like an emo heroin addict that crawled out the sewers. I hesitatingly reached out, grabbing the mirror to look at my face in full detail. My eyes sunken in with extreme eyebags, acne and acne scars all over my face, scars from sloppy attempts at shaving, and my ugly ass eyes. "How can I fix myself..." I hummed to myself, trying not to smash the mirror as I stared at my face. I don't have makeup so I can't just cover my scars and acne, so instead I just chose the second best, a maroon-colored face mask and just say I'm sick. I have what my mother used to call David Bowie eyes, well, I do have the exact same eyes as him...
I have both heterochromia and anisocoria, I absolutely hate it, every time I walk outside I feel people's eyes on me, makes my skin crawl. So to solve this problem I just cover my right eye with hair to make it look like I only have brown eyes. I feel bad for people who see me when I walk around school, I can't even stand looking at myself. I sighed before slamming the mirror back down on my nightstand and stood up from bed, putting on my socks and shoes, walking down stairs holding my backpack in one hand and my bus ticket in the other. Second I stepped out of the house the cold autumn air hit my skin, it felt nice, I always did prefer the colder seasons. The weather is perfect to wear long sleeves without sweating and the aesthetic is just so pretty.
It didn't take long for me to get to the bus stop, greeted to the usual sight of the elderly lady sitting on the bench and the other boy who also goes to my school that I can never remember the name of, maybe Daniel? I just leaned against the wall and waited for the bus. The bus ride was uneventful, except seeing a happy couple on the bus and feeling the temptation of killing myself In front of them. After I got off the bus I spotted Simon angrily staring at me while he stood at the open gates with his arms crossed. Looking like a dapper young bloke with rugged scars on his face and bruised knuckles, likely getting in a fight like he always do. Simon is an odd man, he always tries to act like he is a gentlemen at school when just last night I saw him take the fattest rip of a bong. "Finally, there you are. Took ya' long enough, mate." He grumbled, grabbing my wrist and pulling me over close to him and making me hiss in pain when he squeezed my cuts.
"What? I'm not even late this time, you're the one who always feels the need to go when the moon is still out." I grumbled as Simon dragged me along to class. Even though his hand is still squeezing my scars, I can't lie about enjoying when he touches me, makes me feel like a princess. "Doesn't change the fact you always show up 50 minutes late." Dammit, he's right... The bell rung and he sped up, my feet not even on the ground anymore as he dragged me to our class. "Sorry if we're late, Mr. Robinson. I had to drag Martin to class." Simon grumbled, still holding my wrist in his hand. Robinson just shooed us over to the seats in the back, this is my last year before I go to university, but to put it blunt I'm more likely to kill myself before then. I really have no plans in the future. I would be an artist but everyone tells me that's a dead-end job, but any other job sounds miserable, god... I wish Y2K did kill us... Though my train of thoughts came to a halt when a hand touch my head, it was Simon patting my head.
"... Bro, what are you doing?" I asked, side glancing at him. "You look like your about to fall asleep, and your hair is pretty greasy, when was the last time you showered?" Simon pulled his hand away, "Eh... About a month... My dad hasn't paid the water bill for awhile..." I murmured, averting my eyes. "What? He doesn't have a job or sumin'? Well, if you need you can shower at my house, or use the school locker room's showers.'' Well, it is true my dad hasn't paid the water bill for a month, but the other thing is that i'm aware I can use the school's shower, I just don't want to. I can't stand looking at my body, seeing my visible ribs, genitalia, or body hair makes me want to scream and pull my hair out. "Really? Thanks... I might use your's tonight..." I said, slightly smiling, though I don't want to, I really need to take a shower. Simon nod, bluntly saying, "Alright, good."
Whole time in class I just doodled in my school journal while Simon next to me made sure to copy down every single note in his sloppy cursive hand-writing, I sometimes copying his down in mine. I've been obsessed with drawing the same girl, a pretty goth girl with anisocoria and long hair, sorta like me, just no pimples, or scars, or masculine features, I call her Rayz. "... Who are you drawing?" I heard Simon's voice whisper to me, "Mh... Just a random lady I think is pretty..." I whispered back, Simon leaning in slightly, looking at my drawing more closely, "She looks a lot like you." That made me freeze up before I quickly scribbled out her face. "You're just takin' the piss, mate... I don't look like her, i'm a boy." When Simon saw me scribble out my sketch I could've swore I saw him frown, "Hm, no, you do, she has your eyes and moles." He took his rubber and tried to gently erase my scribble. "If you say so..." I sighed, shoving his hand away.
After class me and Simon were under the bleachers where the football field is, he was smoking a cigarette while I kept struggling to light mine. I was absentmindedly watching the seniors play, "Hm, so what are ya' plannin' to do after highschool?" He asked, taking a long drag from his cigarette, "Eh, I really don't know yet... You?" I bluntly replied, "I'm thinkin' of joinin' the military, I say I got the muscles." Simon tossed his cigarette to the dirt before flexing his bicep, he does have some pretty good muscle, if I were a girl i'd probably ask to touch it, but since i'm not I can't, it'd be gay. "Hm, yeah, you got the strength but I don't really think you should join the military..." I murmured, averting my eyes from him flexing. "Eh? Why?" He raised a brow, "I don't want you to die, you're my only friend, if you end up dying in some battlefield I'm killing myself." Me saying that just made him chuckle, "Melodramatic much?" He looked over at me with a goofy grin, oh, he thinks i'm joking.
"You really need to learn to be less tense." Simon sighed, patting my back, for a straight guy he sure does enjoy touching me alot. I leaned into his touch, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Light my cig and I might." I scoffed at him, he took the lighter from my hand and lit my cigarette for me, I almost immediately taking a long drag from it and blowing the smoke in his face. He didn't back-away or complain, just waving the smoke from his face, "Hm, oh, I know sumin' that might make you more happy." That peaked my interest, "Oh? And what would that be?" I hummed and leaned in closer to him, "I got money to go see some horror movies down at the local movie theater nearby. They're showing a shit-ton of horror flicks since it's almost Halloween, wanna come along? I'm going at midnight." He grinned.
That sounds fun, I do really love horror, but I already know my dad wouldn't want me to go so i'd have to sneak out. But sneaking out could put me at risk of my mom finding out and he beats me till I pass out again...
"I'd love to go." - 10:15 Saturday Night.