I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was raw and the water turned cold, but I still didn't feel clean. I looked down at myself and I looked exactly the same. My outside is just as disgusting as the inside.
I slam my forehead on the shower wall. Again. Pain washes over me like the water. It’s the only thing I can feel anymore. Then I closed my eye and let the cold water run down my scarred back.
All I could think about were his hands on my body, invading every inch of me. That's what love was. It was something to grit your teeth as you were fucked. It was almost dying as you suffocated. It was bruises and broken bones and pain that made you puke. Love ripped out parts of you. It made sure that there was nothing left but scars to be stared at. I didn't want love anymore.
I'm a dead man split open on an autopsy table. Now everyone wants to pick at the scraps left behind. I've had enough with it all. I just want to be left alone.
I stayed in the ice cold stream of the water until I heard Mike knock on the bathroom door.
"You okay?" He called.
"Yeah," I yell back. He didn't respond. I wish he'd just leave me alone.
I don't know how much time passed, but I remember that Violet is picking me up tonight. I finally get out of the shower. I look in the mirror and I hate who is looking back at me. My facial hair has grown out, and my hair is longer. I looked like this for a while.
Memories of having hands at my scalp pulling my hair flashed through my mind. I was back there again. My hands grip the sink and I almost throw up. I need it gone. All of it. Now.
Without a second thought I grab the clippers. I throw a random guard on there before taking it to my hair and buzzing it off. By the time I'm done, my shoulders and the bathroom sink are covered in my black and gray hairs. I also shave my face. My hair is about as long as Mike's is now, except slightly longer in the back. I run my fingers through it. It doesn’t matter what it looks like, just that it’s gone. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders as I stared in the mirror, but it still wasn't enough.
I clean everything up and wipe the extra hairs off of myself before getting dressed. Then I finally leave the bathroom.
Mike was sitting on the living room couch. He looked at me, and his eyes widen slightly.
"You cut your hair," he remarks. "Looks good."
I go to the kitchen and grab a drink. Mike's eyes follow me. I can't stand it. I don't want to be stared at.
"How're you doing?" He asks. I say nothing, and he continues, his voice uneasy. Like he's avoiding landmines. Like he's avoiding me. I hate it. Stop treating me like this. "Is everything okay?"
Then, my phone goes off with a text. I look at it. Violet's here. She'd be on her way up in a second.
"I'm goin' out," I said, walking to the door. Mike's eyes narrow.
"Come on, Ash, won't you talk to me?"
"Fuck off."
"What?" Mike says, gritting his teeth. I know he heard me.
"Fuck off," I yell.
Mike stands up. "I'm trying to help you!" His voice matches mine in volume. He covers the ground between us with two long strides. "Just talk to me!"
"Leave me the fuck alone!" I shout in his face, and his expression instantly shifts to pure rage. If he wasn't mad before, he's beyond it now. I regret it but I can't stop my words.
"Don't fuckin' yell at me you fuckin' asshole!" He yells. "Stop treating me like a stranger! I'm tired of it!"
I don't want to look at him anymore. I ball my shaking hands into tight fists. No one understands. No one would ever understand. He goes on and on. He won't leave me alone.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I scream. Pain flashes on his face before returning to fury.
"I've never done SHIT to you!" He shouts.
Then, a knock on the door. I know it's Violet. I reach for the handle.
"Yeah, sure, fucking leave!" Mike throws his hands up in defeat and walks away. "Like you always do!"
That wasn't fair at all.
"Fuck you!" I curse.
I open the door and there's Vi. She looks at me with a smile, although there's concern on her face.
"Hi," she greets with a wave.
I slam the door behind me and turn towards her. "Hey," I force out.
"I like the haircut," She says. "It's nice!"
We descend the stairs and leave the building. With every heavy step the anger drains from me, but guilt takes its place.
"Is everything alright?" Violet asks when we reach the bottom.
I pause. I exhale from my nose and look at her. "Yeah," I said.
"Are you sure?" She continues worriedly, but still with a faint smile. "It sounded pretty bad."
"It's fine," I dismiss.
"Well, if you need to talk, I'm always here," She nodded. Then she dropped it. I appreciated that.
We got into her car. I was used to its small size by now, but I'd always be uncomfortable in the passengers seat. Her car sputters to life with a low, choking rumble. There was only so much work I could do on her old car. Its many years without routine maintenance would catch up to it someday.
We pulled out of the parking lot. The music from the CD that I bought for her, in what feels like a lifetime ago, started playing. It feels like she is the only one who understands the person who I am now. I feel disconnected from the people around me. I don't enjoy anything anymore. Even I'm a stranger to my own self.
But Vi's there. She never judges me even when she really should. Her kindness is wasted on someone like me. I look up to her.
"Been rough with Mike lately," I said. I have to turn to her when I talk since she's sitting on my deaf side.
"How so?" She asks.
"He won't leave me alone."
She doesn't hesitate. "He just worries about you... He cares about you a lot. He loves you."
I feel awful. I know it's true. Regret washes over me.
She spares me a smile before returning her eyes to the road. "Have you told him that?"
I say nothing, because I haven't. Only when I was yelling at him. I never wanted to treat him like this. But it was hard not to let my emotions get the better of me. I can't control myself anymore. I don't deserve him.
After a second, Vi continues, taking the hint. "Maybe you should try?" She offers.
It's too much. And it gets worse every day. I can't look him in the eyes anymore. I couldn't even say what happened when he asked. He still doesn't know where I was. When he saw my bruises and asked what happened, I ignored him.
"He wouldn't understand."
"I'm sure he would," She says. "And you'd be surprised how much better it'd feel to talk about it. I think you should talk to someone, and Michael's the best person. At least think about it." She smiles at me again.
I turn my head away and look out of the window. The city passes by us in a dark blur. When I don't say anything, she lets the conversation finally end. The music fills the silence between us. I don't remember what the song's name is, but I remember that she really likes it.
I think hard about her words. I don't know if I would ever be able to talk about it. Having her support makes me feel a bit better.
"Thanks," I finally say.
"Of course! Anytime!" She replies happily.
The music fills the space between us again, and for the rest of the way we drive in mutual silence.
I had gotten home late that night, newly bloodied and bruised and aching. The painkillers Vi had given me hadn't kicked in yet. I wouldn't be able to sleep without them and a few beers. All I wanted to do right now was lay down.
I expected Mike to be asleep when I came in. But he was still on the living room couch like he had not moved at all.
"Mike," I say. He doesn't turn to me, and the light of the television flashes on his expressionless face. "I'm sorry."
Without a word, he gets up, and walks towards me. He says nothing as he puts his arms around me. At first I tense. I don't like being touched anymore. But this is my brother. I try to relax. I put my arms around him too.
"It's okay," Mike says. "I can't read your mind. You have to help me help you."
"I know."
"Do you want to talk about it?" He offers.
"No." I don't hesitate. "I need more time."
"Sure," Mike pulls away from me and nods. His face is worried, but he doesn't push it anymore. Instead he gives me a slight smile. "I'm here for you. I mean it. I love you."
"I love you too."
He hugs me again. We don't hug often.
Then, it's back to normal. Whatever passes for normal ever since I came back home. He tosses a "goodnight" over his shoulder as he walks back to his room and closes the door.
I don't know if I could ever talk about it. But I go to bed a little lighter.