The metallic smell hangs heavy in the air. People around me cover their nose to keep from vomiting. But I don't mind it. It's an odd comfort place, but it's better than that house I live in. That wooden house with the disgusting smell of alcohol.
But I need to get back to it. Get back to that woman who gave birth to me. She sits at the window staring out into her imaginary world, under influence of alcohol, of her husband coming back.
"I'm back." I say shutting the door.
She looks back at me, her eyes widening in shock as she jumps up. She takes a step towards me, but stops. Her eyes blink and jaw clenches.
Her hand with a glass raises and I felt pain on my head. I raised my hand up, and started to dust the remaining shards out of my hair. I see her eyes widening in shock, and she quickly hugs me.
"I'm sorry..." she sobs in my ear.
"You know I love you. Right, Jai?" She asks.
I don't answer.
"Don't leave me." She begs.
I quietly sigh, and gently hug her back.
"Ok, mom." I said.
She seemed to calm down a bit, and I helped her to bed, then left to my own room.
It's small with my bed down the south wall, and a desk with a mirror and trinkets on the east wall.
I sit at my dest setting my bag on it. My eyes glance at the mirror, hating the reflection.
I look nothing like the woman. I don't have her blond hair or green eyes. I just resemble her husband. Some say that's why she apologizes. Because I remind her of him. She says it's because she loves me.
I hate my appearance. I really hate it.
Maybe somewhere in the night the darkness will swallow me like a blackhole. Maybe it's just wishful thinking. But I still need to sleep tonight. It might be more wishful thinking, but maybe tomorrow will be different.
I don't have much to live on. An abusive woman. Abandoned father. Yet my dreams are just black voids. Perhaps it's my brain just sparing me nights of traumatizing dreams. I'm not sure of what, but I imagine that woman smashing my skull in with a liquor bottle. The shards littering the floor, but when I look at them, they're all me.
The thought makes me tremble. As my head fills with echoes of voice.
"You're broken."
"Just a piece of trash."
"I shouldn't have had you!"
"You're the reason your dad left!"
They're familiar. And I know from what. Those memories from a long time ago.
"I can fix it." I said over the voices.
I rummage through my desk coming upon my scissors.
"I know I'm broken. I know. Just let me fix myself! I can do it." I plead with them.
I run a quick line on my forearm, and watched red slowly slick out. The voices cease, satisfied by my blood.
I put them down feeling relieved of the silence.
