That Night

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Now, are you male or female? You're definitely feminine." The ghost of his hand is all too real.

"They're wasting their time." More attention is turned to me. "They don't care about you."

"Why does the boss waste his time?" Strange looks are sent my way.

My eyes closed, and my hands tangled in my hair, arms pressing against the side of my head to cover my ears.

"You know he's going to leave you when he's done."

"They never cared about you."

"Enjoy the storm."

My own scream fills my head, although I myself make no noise. So many voices fill my head, one barely decipherable from another, all of them screaming in chants, their words repeating themselves over and over again, even when they move to say something else.

I'm being circled by so many people. There are so many hands and flailing limbs trying to get their piece said before someone else cuts them off. In the distance, two people watch quietly, their bodies within a foot of each other as they talk. I try focusing on them, their blurred figures unrecognizable. They stand their and coerce as though nothing is happening. Like I'm not here. I open my mouth to yell for them, but nothing comes out as they turn and walk the other way.

I don't reach out for them like I would any other time. I don't cry. I don't even tear up. I just sit there. I listen to everyone's voices. Their hateful words ring in my ears, their faces engraving themselves into my head.

I want to forget everything, but at the same time, I want to remember every bit of torture I was subjected to.

I want someone to hurt as much as I've been hurt, yet I wouldn't wish this kind of torture on anybody.

I want to tell everyone to leave me alone and convince them that I'm fine even when they know that it's not true.

I want to be alone and have a moment of silence, with no distractions, but I can't take the feelings that come with the loneliness.

The over-thinking.

The self-hatred.

The flashbacks.

The overwhelming urges.

The anger.

The fear.

The sadness.

It's all too much. Beyond overwhelming. It hits so hard and so fast that I can't keep myself on my own two feet. It's like I was struck in the chest with some unknown agony that rips through my body like razorblades.

I guess that's how it's always been, though. My life has always revolved around something dangerous.

Ever since I could remember, I've been living on a razors edge. I've fought the demons in my head for years. If we're being honest, I've even come close to death one too many times. I used to have nightmares of being put into a coffin kicking and screaming because I failed to end it all myself. The looks I got from strangers told me I should have.

The first time I was hurt bad enough to bleed and remember it, I couldn't help but cry. Not because of the pain from the injury, but because I realized I am human as well.

Yes, I'm broken, but isn't that what makes someone human? Bad or absolutely terrible, everyone has been broken before, right?

I mean, everyone I know has been pushed too far or hurt before. Chuuya was heartbroken when Dazai rejected him and refused to acknowledge him for years because he wasn't brave enough to face his own feelings. Kunikida was forced to the breaking point more than once when I showed up because he felt the need to help everybody and ignore his own needs. Gin was in the hands of a terrible person twice, her own mind torturing her like mine does, although she does a much better job hiding it than I do. Ryunosuke was subjected to watching everything happen since he was little, rendered useless more than once because of one thing or another.