GONER

33 • The Night Of Many Firsts

A/N: This is damn long sORRY

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I haven't been this angry in a very long time.

I haven't been angry to the point of wanting to punch something and actually punching it, and I've never been angry to the point of furious sobs, that expanded over the space of the kitchen, and of this stupid house, and I was so glad my mom left me alone so that I would have a small chance to clean all of this up before she got back.

Sometimes, I just didn't understand her thought process, because she took the box cutter and left the knife block on the counter, which quickly prompted me to make even more of a mess of my skin, and now I was hyperventilating, trying to make sense of this situation, and find the light in the dark. But, to my distress, it continued to evade me, and I haven't screamed in a while, but I did, and the sound was the only noise I was going to make for the next few days. I didn't know where all of this even came from, and I didn't know I wouldn't have the energy to make any more sounds or form any more words after this was done and over with, but it didn't matter to me as soon as my hand connected with one of the shiny plates I really wasn't supposed to touch, and hurled it to the tile of the floor.

On impact, the smooth dish shattered, an explosion of glass and emotion, and my hands were still covered in my own dried blood, because after everything's that's happened the past two days, I doubt I could ever get rid of this disgusting feeling. The feeling of knowing how badly I just screwed myself over again, and knowing I had to try and stop my own blood with the small space of my palm, and now there was a dish on the ground and I was kneeling next to it.

"O-oh my god," I gasped, pushing the heels of shaking hands into my eyes, trying to get myself to calm down. I felt like the glass was cutting through the knees of my pants, but I wouldn't know if it was, and I didn't care as much as I should have. Honestly, I just couldn't handle the fact that this is what I turned into under the time period of nothing more than a week, and I bit at the skin of my lip, shaking my head. I was trembling to the point where I didn't think I could pick anything up, but I had no problem grabbing my phone, and dialing someone's number that I really shouldn't have been dialing.

Murphy and I haven't spoken since the time Josh picked me up in front of the mattress store, and I felt rude calling him now, completely out of the blue. But he seemed to be the kind of person who wouldn't mind and would try and understand, regardless of the fact that he just won't, and I tried to be considerate enough to not cry into the phone.

Wiping the back of my hand over my cheekbone, I took a ragged breath as he answered. He sounded like he was jostling it, and I could hear people laughing, and I couldn't believe I was doing this. Was it right to be disappointed in myself already? I'm assuming it wasn't, because I haven't even put my plan into action yet.

"Hello?" He was trashed, I could tell. But he sounded pretty happy, and pretty free, and I laughed bitterly at myself, shaking my head again.

"H-hi," I stammered, willing myself to calm down. "It's Tyler."

"Tyler, who?" He chuckled.

"Jospeh. The mattress store guy. I was the random one in your house that one day."

He was snapping on the other side of the phone, and I could imagine him nodding his head to himself. Wherever he was, he wasn't concerned about people watching him, or about anything, and I wanted to feel like that.