The Art of Dilapidation (Kellic)

13: The Trials and Tribulations of a Lovesick Teenager

It'd been a long time since I'd let myself go, since I'd given myself what I'd needed. It was a flash of stinging pain followed by a rush of adrenaline. Was there ever a more satisfying feeling? It sent shivers down my spine and made my bottom lip quiver from the excitement. A feeling of power settled over me. I had been feeling as though I had no control over my violently changing emotions and the painful circumstances under which they changed, but this, this I could control. I was king of this moment, this splatter of red on snow white porcelain tiles. No one dictated anything to me when I was alone with my best of friends.

I bit my lip as the satisfaction washed over me like a wave breaking on the coast. Maybe I was a wreck. Maybe I was doomed. Maybe I was flame that was slowly burning out. Maybe my life was meant to end in disaster. Maybe all of this was true, but I still had a knife to my wrist and that seemed to make everything a little less confusing. I had been flailing in the murky waters of my mind before, but just a little cut and all of a sudden I was standing on solid ground.

The blood settled into the fine lines of the skin on my forearm. My head swam with a million different feelings, making me sway where I crouched. All the thoughts of my pain and fear dissipated as the sliver of metal touched my wrist. As soon as I pulled it away, however, the feelings came rushing back and I immediately went back for more. I needed this desperately. If I was going to suffer it would be at my hands and not anyone else's. The whole world seemed as if it was a lucid dream and nothing was real, yet everything was real all at once. It was as though I were slipping in and out of reality. A breathy gasp escaped my lips and I tightened my grip on the blade. It was a sick, sadistic sort of pleasure that I gained from this, but it was pleasure all the same.

"Kellin?" I heard Vic calling from downstairs. "Are you here?" I quickly pulled down my sweatshirt sleeves and tossed the blade into the drawer. "Yeah," I shouted back. "I'll be down in a minute." I wiped up the blood from the tiles, trying to hide all the evidence. Vic couldn't know about my actions. He wouldn't understand. As much as Vic liked to pretend he knew everything he would never be able to comprehend the way my mind worked. He didn't know how it felt to feel intense pain for so incredibly long. He didn't know what it's like to shut down his emotions just to block out the agony. He didn't know what it's like to desperately want to feel anything other than exhaustion. He didn't know what it's like to feel powerless. He had it perfect. He was beautiful and smart and charismatic. I, on the other hand, was nothing but a mistake. The only thing that made my life worth living was the fact that Vic was in it.

I opened the bathroom door and went downstairs. Vic was standing in the living room, staring out the window blankly. I tried to offer a smile when he looked over at me, but none came. I was done with offering fake smiles. "Hey, Kellin," Vic began his sentence cheerfully, but his tone changed to one of confusion when he saw the look on my face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I said with a noncommittal shrug. I don't know why I thought I could lie to Vic. He saw through my façade immediately. It was something he seemed to be able to do without a second thought, which terrified me in a way. I didn't want anyone to see what I had hidden underneath the surface. "Yes, there is," Vic insisted in that firm, authoritative manner he always had. "You don't have to lie to me, Kellin."

"Who said I was lying?" I retorted, getting a bit defensive. Vic couldn't know. The look of disappointment he would get in his eyes if he did would crush me as if someone had taken a vice grip on my heart, squeezing as hard as they could until it disintegrated into ashes. I crossed my arms over my chest, fearful that Vic would see the little trickle of red that I knew was running down the contours of my wrist. That action, however, seemed to notify Vic about exactly what was wrong. He took a few steps forward, his eyes flickering between my face and my arms. I stumbled backward a little bit. Vic couldn't see it. He would think I'd made a mess of myself when really I'd made a drastic improvement.