Bates Motel: My Experience

Vices

I didn't want to cry anymore. So I didn't. My eyes felt dried up. In that moment, anyways. I go through phases when I'm upset. There's the black out part where I get so furious I want to kill something. There's the crying part where I just cry and cry and cry. And then there's the part where I am somewhere in the middle, feeling like I couldn't give two fucks about what happens to me. That's where I'm at now.

You see, I felt lost and scared when I was kidnapped. But last night when Dylan turned his back on me when all that shit was said and I went back to my bed and cried until I fell asleep...a part of me died that night. I wasn't getting it back because I don't think I'm getting Dylan back. I had a small hole and I would have to find other vices to fill it.

Dylan had tried texting me, but I had really had enough of it all. I took a big breath before I blocked his number. I hated having to do it, but it was apparent I needed to move on.

We'd finally made it home. I hieved my suitcase on my bed, unzipped it, and began unpacking my clean clothes, putting them back in my drawers. Afterwards, I retreated into the living room with mom. "I'm sorry, mom. That was a waste of money going out there." Mom replied, telling me she's sorry that it didn't work out. "Me too," I said back.

 I tried to be around my parents as much as possible. I had missed them, but also, I needed conversation so my mind wouldn't wonder.

I was falling away again...back to that place. Again. When would this end?

I wished Dylan would talk to me but at the same time, I didn't want to see or hear from him again. I was done with him. I tried to tell myself that.

***

I told Dylan to fuck off  exactly two weeks ago. Emma told me he hadn't even tried to talk to her. She said he acted like...well, me almost. He wouldn't speak and he wouldn't smile. He was gone most of the time when she was there working.

It was hard. My parents were at work all day. I was by myself and had no motivation to apply for a job. I don't think I could at the moment. Well, I could, but I would be pretty worthless. Most people in town knew what happened to me. My story was on the local news and in the newspapers. Whenever I went out, I got sympathetic looks and words which I appreciated. I had just finished eating a bowl of cereal when I went to the sink to wash it out. I was filling the bowl with water when I stopped. My eyes lingered on the sharp knife that lay on the dish-rack. I took a breath and turned away from the sink.

I went to the couch and curled up.

Hey. I need something.     I texted my high-school friend that I was still "friends" with.

Heyy! There's a party tonight. Come with me. :]      

I texted mom and told her I was staying the night with my friend Hannah. But of course this wasn't the actual friend I was going to be with. Hannah was good. These people I would be seeing tonight weren't. Fuck it, who cares? I don't.