How Can I Love You If I Can't Love Myself?

-Chapter 4-

TW: abuse, alcohol use

Cody

School had finally ended, though I sort of wished it didn't. Or that it at least wasn't the weekend yet.

I hated school, sure, but it was the only place I could...be myself.

Sort of.

It was the only place I didn't have to worry about my father.

I put my headphones over my ears and started to blast music. As I walked outside, I noticed that Heather had already gotten outside and was waiting for me. I opened the passenger door and got in the car, taking one headphone off my ear.

"So, how was your first day?" she asked me.

"How was yours?" I asked her back.

"I asked you first."

"It was good."

I stared at her, an innocent smile on my face as I waited for her to answer. I had already heard people talking about her, and so I assumed she'd become pretty popular. Either that or everyone hated her.

"Well, Cody," she said, sighing. "My day was awesome."

I nodded and looked at the road ahead as I covered both ears with my headphones, my eardrums probably bursting as they tried to survive Across The Sea by Weezer.

I watched our house come into view, and my heart sunk. It looked so...perfect. Like a stereotypical rich person house, if that was a thing. It made us seem like we had everything easy. If only that were true.

I stepped out of the car as Heather parked it, and planned on going straight to my room where I could hide away forever.

But, of course, right when I walk in, my father is stumbling over to the fridge and pulling out a beer. I look over at the living area where there are already three empty cans.

"Dad, I think you've had enough," I say quietly. I know approaching my father and "challenging" him while he's drunk probably isn't the best thing, but he's still my father. I want to help him.

"What did ya say to me, kid?" he asked, his voice hoarse. He turned around to look at me, barely able to stand up straight.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "I didn't say anything."

"Oh, so now you're saying I'm hearing things?" he asked me.

"No, sir," I told him, hearing my own voice shrink.

He grumbled something and walked over to me. I stared him in the eye as he towered over me. I was barely able to hold eye contact, and ended up looking away.

Out of nowhere, he swings his arm and slaps me right across the face.

"Don't talk to me like that, you pig," he says harshly, practically spitting in me face.

My eyes sting with tears, but I find some strength to push them down. "Yes, sir. It won't- won't happen again." I keep my eyes off of him as I watch him stumble back over to the couch.

I get out of there as fast as possible, running straight to the bathroom and locking the door. I look up at the mirror and see that the tears I pushed down earlier have already started to well back up.

I sniffle and let a slight chuckle. "I guess I have a thing for bathrooms," I say to myself, remembering how I had cried in a bathroom hours earlier before school started. Now I'm back at it again.

I continue to stare at myself in the mirror, every word someone has ever called me coming back to my mind.

"Faggot."

"Pig."

And oh, so much more.

This time I can't keep the tears away. I fall to the ground as my tears fall as well, and push myself up against the wall. I bring my knees to my chest and just stay like that a while, tears falling, horrible names running through my head.

"You're just fucking useless..." I say to myself, sobbing as quietly as possible. "No one even likes you. Why're you still here?"

"You can't even make your own father proud."

The tears come even harder, a bit of snot running down from out of my nose. I stand up, putting my hand on the wall for support. I walk over to a tissue box to wipe and blow my nose. I then splash cold water on my face, and leave the bathroom. I walk back into the kitchen to make something to eat. As I walk to the fridge, a note comes into view.

Cody,
left to hang out with some friends. cya soon. love you!
-Heath

Great. Left with my dad. I turn to look at how he's doing now, and see that he's fallen asleep on the couch, empty beer cans surrounding him. The number of cans has multiplied greatly.

I walk over to him and start to collect the cans, throwing them all out. I set a blanket over him as well, and take the last can from his hand, having to pry his fingers off it slightly.

I stare at the can for a long while, taking in its scent. I know that being drunk makes my dad sort of...angry...but I've heard that some people are happy drunks.

Some people drink to wash away their worries.

I take a sniff of the drink, and then tilt my head back and swallow the little bit that was left. Not that bad, I think to myself. I throw the can away, but open the fridge door and grab two more. No one has to know.

I bring the cans back to my room, and down the first one pretty fast. I forgot that since I don't usually drink, I have a pretty low tolerance for the stuff. I started to feel lightheaded very fast.

I drank the other one pretty fast as well, but I still felt all my worries overpowering the feeling of being drunk.

So I went back to the kitchen to grab three more cans.

I drank those as well. By then, I was feeling pretty loopy. I couldn't really think straight. But it felt...nice. It felt peaceful. It felt like my whole life wasn't shit.

But then I heard a door open and footsteps coming closer, and shoved all the empty cans under my bed. A knock came at my door.

"Uh...yeah-huh?" I asked the person behind the door.

"Cody, it's me," Heathers voice said from behind the door. "Am I allowed in? Or are you doing some geeky shit and want me to leave you alone?"

I roll my eyes and stand up, having to catch myself, and stumble over to the door. I open it slightly to look at Heather.

"I, uhh...I was just, um, sleeping," I lie. I can hear my words slurring together, but I figure the lie will help as an excuse for that as well.

"Ugh, you stink," Heather tells me. "What is that? Is that..." She takes a moment to sniff the air. "Is that alcohol!?"

"Um...no?" I lie again. "You're probably, uh, smelling dad. He, uh, was drinking a lot, um, earlier..."

"And so his drinking just happened to make your words slur and make it so you can barely stand up straight?" she asks me.

I straighten myself up, leaning against the doorframe for support. "Uh...mhm!" Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would I agree? I could've said 'I'm able to stand up straight!' or 'My words aren't slurring!' But no. I choose to agree with her clues that point to me being drunk.

"...alright," she says, pushing the door open even more. "Let's get you to bed." She grabs my arm and starts to pull me over to my bed.

"Heath, I'm fineee," I whine, pulling my arm away. I tripped over my own feet while doing so, and had to catch myself by my dresser.

"Mhm. Yeah, sure you are," she says, going back to pulling me over. She watches as I collapse into my bed, and then pulls a blanket over me.

"What do you even care?" I mumble, my eyes already closing and ready to sleep. "You don't care about me...nobody cares about...me..."

The last thing I hear is a sigh before everything goes black and I fall asleep.

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