checkmate , s.reid

012 » THE MOVIE NIGHT

tw sh mentions, intrusive thoughts, implied abuse, hallucinating?

Once I arrive home from work, completely exhausted, I head straight for the shower. Sure, I already had a shower this morning, but I can't help but feel dirty and gross from seeing Mark. I just want to scrub my body completely clean, not stopping until my skin is raw and burning.

The scars that stretch across my body have been itching all day, begging me to open them up again, opening up a rip in my brain, after years of stitching myself back together. But I don't. I hold off. I know that if I hurt myself again, I'll just lead myself back into the dark, horrible place that was my life for years.

As soon as I close the bathroom door behind myself, I pull off my shirt and drop it to the floor, too tired go even open the laundry basket. I slowly peel off my binder, wincing as I can finally take a breath. Ezra told me not to wear it for too long- it damaged his ribs pretty badly when he was a teen and wore his for days at a time- but I decided not to listen to him. I don't wear it every day, anyway, so I'm fine.

Taking off the rest of my clothes, I turn on the water and let it heat up before stepping in. The moment the hot water touches my skin, my nerves begin to calm. I simply stand under the warm stream for a while, letting myself be soaked. I wrap my arms around myself, running my fingertips over my back. In the moment, as I hug myself, staring blankly at the floor, I'm twelve again, trying to wash myself clean from the touch of my father, scrubbing harshly at the bruises.

Shaking myself out of my head, I get on with cleaning off, not wanting to waste anymore water. The foamy bubbles cover my body, hiding all the parts I hate from view.

After I finish scrubbing myself clean, my skin growing red and sore, I turn off the stream of water and step out, almost slipping over. Cursing quietly to myself, I grab a towel and wrap it around myself. Clearing the condensation from the mirror with the corner of the towel, I find myself gazing at my reflection for longer than I should, zoning out and watching everything blur slightly.

Rubbing my eyes, I open the door and head back into my room. I grab some comfy clothes from my closet and lay them out on the bed. Sighing, I wring the water from my hair and pull on the hoodie and jeans. Pulling the hood down, I attempt to dry off my hair using the towel.

···

It gets to the time that I should leave to make it to Ezra's place in time, so I grab my phone and keys, switching off the TV and pulling on a pair of shoes. Once I've triple-checked that the door is locked, I head down the stairs and outside. Squinting against the bright light of the streetlamp in the parking lot, I grasp onto my keys and hurry over to my car. As I grab the door handle, a hand clamps over my mouth as another snakes around my waist.

Eyes widening in immediate terror, I try to kick and scream and yell for help and fight against the stranger, fear and adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, my heart pounding hard in my chest. Tears prick in my eyes and I feel the grip on me loosen and I'm standing by my car again, hand grasping the handle so tightly that my fingers are going numb.

What?

I glance around, still feeling the fear and panic within my chest. Nobody's here.

Quickly climbing into my car, I slam the door after me and lock it immediately, my breaths coming quick and short. I check in the back seat to make sure nobody is hiding in there, and hastily turn on the CD player to drown out my thoughts. Leaning my head back against the headrest, I make an attempt to calm my breathing, closing my eyes and squeezing my hands into fists, my nails digging into the skin of my palms. My legs are shaky, still flooded with adrenaline.