Alive

Chapter 8: Let Yourself In

My phone buzzed inside my pocket, snapping me back to the present. I pulled it out, which, let me tell you, is easier said than done when you're wearing skinny jeans. 'Skinny' was the biggest understatement of the century; they were practically cutting off the circulation to my feet.

1 new message:
Charlie:
Hey can I come over to urs? Had a fight with Sam. He's being an ass. Xoxo

Charlie was one of the friends I maintained for appearances. She was pretty and mildly funny, when she wanted to be, but most of the time she just moans non-fucking-stop. What I wanted to type was:

'Sure. I'd love to sit here for hours listening to you whine about your boring boyfriend and pathetic little problems, seriously be as melodramatic as possible, the more the better, it's the highlight of my life. You can grab some beers on your way over and as you sit on my couch crying into your bottle, I'll think about smashing mine on the table and sticking the broken glass into your jugular :-)'

Somehow I didn't think she'd find that quite as humorous as I did though, so I decided to go with:

'Sure chick. See you soon x'.

Halfway through peeing I heard a loud knock at my door. Painfully dull and abysmal timing; could this girl be any more annoying?

"Just a second!" I shouted through the walls as I flushed the toilet and washed my hands. When I opened the door she practically fell into my apartment.

"I rang your doorbell for like 5 minutes before I saw the sign." She laughed and then bent around the doorframe to point at the sticky note I'd placed beside the bell reading 'Doorbell doesn't work. Please knock.' What a fucking moron.

"Ahaha you goof." I said playfully. She brushed past me and threw herself down onto my sofa. Yes, please let yourself in Charlie. I walked over to my fridge without saying anything and took out a bottle of water for her and a bottle of beer for me. I was going to need it.

"So. What happened this time?" I tried to ask the question with a caring tone, like when a mother asks their crying child what happened at school that upset them. Well, the mothers on tv... Mine never did.

"Ugh. He's just, I don't even know, just like..." She punched her fist into her other hand, "y'know?"

What the hell?

"Yeah."

She looked at me and pouted.

"God why can't boys just be like girls. Like, you get me, Sam just has his stoner friends round all day and plays bloody video games."

I had to hide a smirk as I glanced over to the space beneath my television, where a stack of games rested on my Xbox.

"Yeah, boys are just dumb I guess."

She pulled herself off of the sofa and climbed onto the armchair I was sitting in. I'd always hated unnecessary physical contact, when people hug for too long, or at all for the matter. When they rest their leg against yours even though they've got more than enough room. It's uncomfortable and it had always angered me. A lot more than it should have really. But people should understand that just because you consider us friends, that doesn't give you a free pass to invade my personal space. Especially when there's an entire fucking couch available for you sit on.

She snaked her arms around my neck and laid her head on my chest, curled up like a child who'd crawled into their parents' bed after just having a nightmare. Again, I'm basing that off of what I've seen in movies and tv shows, not personal experience. God! Why hadn't I just told her that I was out or made up some excuse as to why she couldn't come over?

"You're beautiful, you know that?" The words sounded unnatural falling out of her mouth.

She had now angled her head to look into my eyes, it looked rather uncomfortable. Rather fitting given the situation. I was getting angrier by the second, and I couldn't figure out why. Normally I can fake a smile when people compliment me, I can act as if the affection is mutual when they try to get close to me. But not now, not with this intrusive girl curled up on my lap, looking up at my expertly conducted mask and admiring it.

I was about to say something to change the subject when she jumped up and pushed her lips against mine. I felt my skin burn hot, for all the wrong reasons.

I pushed her off of me and onto the floor. Her face a mixture shock and hurt from the abrupt rejection. I grabbed the collar of her top, pulled her up to my height and slammed her back into the wall.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" I exploded, violently shaking her as tears started to spill from her eyes. Her voice cracked and her response came out as a whisper.

"I'm sorry. I'll just go." She turned to reach for the door handle.

"I don't fucking think so." I'd never been so mad in my life. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears and feel my hands burning as my veins pumped ferociously, telling me what I should do.

I squeezed my hand shut so tight that my knuckles went white and I smashed my fist into her mascara-streaked face. How dare she kiss me. How dare she think that she could take control of me like that.

I looked down to where she'd fallen onto the laminate flooring and crashed down on top of her, the blood was pumping so hard in my head I was beginning to lose vision. Blackness started to infiltrate the corners of my sight as I kept throwing my fists into her face, again and again and again. I couldn't tell what blood was coming from her head and what was coming from my knuckles anymore. It was one big, violent mess.

She wasn't unconscious yet, but she would be soon, she kept making sharp groaning noises as she tried to catch her breath and she couldn't open her eyes anymore. My hands found their way to her neck and they closed around it, like a vice; inescapable. I couldn't stop, I didn't want to stop. After a while she stopped struggling, stopped clawing at my hands and she went still.

It wasn't until I stood up and looked down at her, covered in blood, unmoving, that the inevitable thought made its way into my mind.

What the fuck had I just done?