Under My Skin

Chapter 1

Trigger warning: This book contains graphic violence, gore, murder, sexual themes, physical, verbal, and emotional abuse, dark narrative, self-harm, and psychological trauma.

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The room fell silent. Jeremy paced back and forth in front of the TV. He had enough. That much was clear to see. Jeremy pulled on the skin of his long face in an attempt to wipe away everything that drained his energy and control the thoughts racking his brain. When he stopped, the rug bunched up by his foot from the force.

"Lu," Jeremy looked past me as he spoke, "I can't do this anymore."

This once I wished I possessed tolerance, but Jeremy needed to understand that I never could. My hazel eyes locked onto the black screen of the TV, which displayed the latest Marvel Movie only five minutes ago. That was when the incident that led to this moment occurred.

"I want to touch you."

Jeremy sighed to himself regretting every word as I fidgeted on the couch. He paced again as he formulated his next sentence with a bit more tact this time. He ran his hand through dirty blonde hair as my skin began to itch. I resisted the urge to scratch it by pulling the sleeves of my shirt over my hands.

"It's not about sex. I just want to hold your hand when we watch a damn movie! Lu, it's been three years. When are you going to trust me?"

"I do."

My voice was pathetic. The words croaked out of my mouth in a failed attempt to reassure Jeremy. I didn't believe them either.

"You say that, but then this happens."

Jeremy gestured to the true victim of this argument. A bowl laid upside-down on the rug and popcorn scattered across the carpet. Some of the popcorn rolled as far as the kitchen table. I squeezed my hands through my shirt until I felt my joints pop out of place. It was the only thing way I could prevent myself from scratching.

"You know that I don't like when people touch me. I don't know why. It's just a thing, like you put pre-grated Kraft Parmesan cheese on your pasta." I defended myself.

Jeremy groaned, "Tossing a bowl of popcorn across the room because your boyfriend tried to grab your hand and consuming Kraft Parmesan cheese like most of America are not the same."

My hands hurt, but the pressure was the only thing keeping me sane. His touch hatched a thousand cockroaches that lived under my skin. The skittering of every leg crawled up my arms and down my spine. The discomfort was unbearable to say the least.

"I'll," Jeremy paused as his voice cracked.

He contemplated his words one more time before saying, "I'll drop you off at your parents in the morning. And I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

He shook his head in disappointment before entering the bathroom for some privacy in our - I mean, his - apartment. I heard him whimpering from behind the closed door. Jeremy turned on the shower to block out the sounds of his despair. He left me to sit on the couch alone. We didn't even finish the movie.

A knock on the door to my childhood bedroom broke me out of my thoughts. I knew it was my mother, but I didn't have the energy to listen to her speech about how she didn't like Jeremy from the beginning. It was bad enough I had to move back in with my parents, but then I had to listen to all their opinions on the matter.

She knocked again as she spoke from the other side, "Lucia, you have missed Sunday dinner twice now. Your father will not stand for it any longer."

I rolled over in my bed and stared out the window. The late summer sunset made a beautiful escape. Then, the door opened. I heard the heavy steps of my father.