Truth

17.Mess

I woke up on the floor of the old planetarium. It sounds cool that my college would have a planetarium, but the seats were all ripped to shreds and it had been closed since 2006 because there were rats in the toilets that they could never seem to permanently get rid of. The budget apparently didn't stretch to the planetarium so it was just closed.

I was cold and couldn't remember how I got there. Across from me was Evelyn, holding a bottle with a cigarette stump near her face, passed out on the cold floor. We were the only ones in here, so I began to crawl toward her. Her sleeve was slightly hitched up, so I caught sight of a mark I hadn't seen on her before. It was a dark line, I thought maybe a scar but as I got closer I saw it was a cut. I wondered how she had gotten hurt, but then I noticed there wasn't only one.

I broke the ideal of privacy and secrecy and peeked up the rest of her sleeve where I saw a collection of cuts. A few had dried blood spilling from them, crusting against her jumper. I wasn't sure what to do so I just stood up and walked through the double doors to the corridor that edged the planetarium. I walked out of the entrance doors and stumbled toward my dorm, wincing in the sunlight. I wasn't sure if I had had more to drink after that one swig, I assumed yes.

Once back in my room I sat down on the bed with my head in my hands. I was confused and didn't know if I had an excuse to be. It was none of my business what Evelyn did or didn't want to do to her body, and why was it distressing me. I'd seen that kind of thing before on TV and in books. It was a thing that happened daily, to loads of people. And suddenly all I could think about was my old room back home: with its blue walls and brown carpet that rucked up under the feet because the carpet fitter never pushed it down the edges properly. Steven said carpet fitters had flat knees; maybe our carpet fitter had sore knees so couldn't.

I missed my old bed, with the scratches up the side that our cat had made before it ran away. The bare window with no curtains because Steven said they made it hard for him to sleep at night, which I could never understand. I missed the ceiling that was never painted after it was plastered. It was a dusty tan colour and I always thought it was pretty and different. Steven said it reminded him of dog shit.

My breathing got shallow, and I didn't know why. Memories of the garden shed that dad always went in when he got sad; the garage where Steven spent hours repairing his truck with metal music shaking the floor all through the house; sitting on my own holding my dad's whiskey bottle like my life depended on it.

I blacked out.

I woke up to the sound of Evelyn's voice muttering beside me. "It never scars, there's no everlasting mark of bravery and great struggle because I don't do it good enough. I keep going, praying one day I'll be good enough.

In the winter I can write words with the blades all over my body like a piece of paper and a pen, isn't that beautiful Rowan? And the blood sometimes falls onto the floor so I have to buy all these rugs but then I'll leave something behind.

What if we die and leave nothing behind except for our decaying bodies. I'd take so long to decay; I think I'll get cremated because the more flesh you have the longer it takes. I have too much flesh but if you throw up too much it can make you feel dizzy, like you've been disembowelled and are just a shell. But we're all just shells and no one's really happy, are they Rowan?

It hurts just right on the backs of your legs, right down by your ankles across the thin bit at the back. It makes me feel like I'm going to be sick but then I always feel that way.

I don't know if it's blood or alcohol anymore Rowan.

If I tell people they tell me to get help, but people are worse than I am. I can't get help because I don't want it. I like being bad. Do you like being bad Rowan? I know you don't let yourself sleep, but then you pass out so there's not much point Rowan.

Are you awake?

I used to talk to myself and they told me off.

Imagine being tube fed and not being allowed to throw it back up. Would you mind if I did something bad by you, it seems okay because you don't know it's happening but at the same time I feel like I am abusing you somehow. I'm really sorry Rowan.

When I die I need you to tell Lucas it wasn't his fault because he always blames himself.

It feels cool when I let it all out. Like a wave of cold getting under my skin and into my veins. Thank you Rowan.

Rowan?"

I opened my eyes and let them flick onto Evelyn. She had cuts across her face and down her throat, across her chest and shoulders, down her arms and flowing from her stomach to her toes. She was sat in her underwear with a blade in her hand. I could see she had done the underside of her feet and was just slowly bleeding away.

"Rowan are you okay?"

"What about you, Evelyn?" I retorted, closing my eyes again as a wave of drowsiness hit me. "What day is it? We don't have class do we?" I mumbled with my eyes still shut remembering that Lucas told me I couldn't stop her. Evelyn ignored my comment.

"Sunday, Rowan, it's fine." She said.

"I thought it was Tuesday. I just got back from the planetarium, I left you there, I'm sorry for that by the way." I stammered.

"We didn't go anywhere yesterday Rowan, you went for a drive in your car with Tarim. I stayed in my room all day." She said.

"I don't have a car."

"Yes you do the red truck."

"Steven has a red truck." The black I could see of my eyelids was starting to turn gold, like it did when I got dizzy but I was lying down so I would probably stay conscious for a while.

"Rowan, are you drunk?" Evelyn asked touching my shoulder with her bloody hand. I opened my eyes slowly to watch the blood from the cuts on the palm of her hand, on and between her fingers seeping into my clothes.

"Evelyn you'll die if you don't stop." I said, trying to get up to move, but I couldn't. I couldn't feel my legs. I didn't even know where I was.

"That's the point, angel." She said, I could hear she was smiling, from how her words sounded. Then I heard the click from her lighter and the smell of her smoke hit me later.

"It's June 30th, in case you're still confused, baby." Evelyn said her voice cracking slightly as she tried not to cry. I opened my eyes to watch tears slide from her eyes down her face, combining with blood from the cuts as they went. She was a mess, still beautiful, but a mess.

"Evelyn, it's September 5, don't mess with me, I know that much." I said, wanting to stroke her to make her feel loved, but not wanting to hurt her.

"Yeah, you're drunk." She said, giggling slightly. My eyes slid shut again and all I could see was the gold in my vision again; like a million stars were burning and exploding in front of me. How special, I was, to be given this personal display of a supernova.