I stay home today.
I lay in bed until the afternoon. I close my curtains so no sunlight can get in.
I take a shower, a long one.
I feel the hot water running down my back. I turn it hotter, and just stand there, feeling it burning me. I don't care if it turns my pale skin red. I don't care if it melts me. I don't care if I go down this drain, and disappear, either.
I eventually turn the water off, and walk out of the bathroom without drying or dressing.
I lay on my bed, and feel the water seep into the blankets below me.
I stay up late that night.
I listen to the sounds of the city two floors below me.
I hear the sirens, the wind, the people. I listen until the sounds are gone.
The clock reads 5:16 when I go to sleep.
YOU ARE READING
In Pieces
Short StoryI didn't want to destroy him. I was afraid I would break him into pieces. And add him to the list of people I've broken. There's too many on that list. Too many.
