“Familiar Friends” Fiction. Based on a True Relationship.

“Familiar Friends”

Fiction. Based on a True Relationship.

by Guest Contributor

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Soft moaning reverberated through the thin walls from the new couple who just moved in. It is not their place to know what occurs on the other side of their walls. They don’t hear the sound of tear drops falling to the tile floor, or the forced inhale of air into my lungs. My knees pulled to my chest, his eyes locked onto the wall. Tears steaming quickly as if my eyes had created rivers.

They had been too busy, or maybe they decided to preoccupy their time to not hear the argument that had just taken place mere feet away from them. They had been too busy to hear the door slam shut. Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

My hands remained clasped together across my knees, hard enough that circulation stopped as my skin turned white as the snow falling outside my window. My hands yearned for something more. Something familiar, although it had been years since the last time.

The cold sharp metal called my name from the counter across from me. My eyes played tricks on me. They turned my wrists bloody. Each inch of my body begged for the familiar feeling.

His words echoed in my head as my brain started to turn on me. “Why am I even here if you refuse to listen to me? You never fucking listen to me.”

His words twist in my head, swirling behind my closed eyelids. “You’re not good enough if you don’t do what I say. You don’t listen to my opinion so I am clearly not important. I’m the only one who is important.”

My head dropped to my knees. My chest heaved forward. My body ached for my familiar friend just inches in front of me.

My eyes shot open. My wrists clear, only the white scars from years past. I pried myself away from the wall, steadying myself on the counter. I stare at the blades. Wondering, wishing, dreading.

I store the blades away, just in case I need them some other day.

Leave a Reply

Write a comment