Cliff McGee
A boy, with white shoulder length hair, bangs that hid eyes, and pale, pale skin was in the shower, the water is beading and rolling off of his body and dripping onto the floor. His head pressed up against his crossed arms as he leaned against the wall, the water following the strands of his hair. Drip… drip… he watched as the red formed at the bottom of the shower, the scars on his arms evident of a bad day. He didn’t get why. Why did he do this to himself as the water stung and made his skin turn to fire. His skinny, boney body barely standing as salt mixed with fresh, as shower mixed with tears. As he stared blankly at the ground, his singular eye watched the water swirl into the drain. He only had one eye… One piercing purple eye. The other was an empty socket. Pitch and black, like his name. Void.
His name was void. Void had a bad day, no, bad day was an understatement. It was a day in which he screamed, he cried, he wished he could remove the skin on his body for he could feel the burning feeling of bloody handprints all over. In parts he wished he could take away. The top surgery scars lined his chest as he peered down at what once used to be there. The only good thing in his life was the top surgery that took what once was touched before, what once harbored hand prints like a filthy secret, but alas. Even with them gone he still felt the hands. The hands, the hands that no one else could see. The hands he saw looking in the mirror, reflecting in glass. The hands that he felt insane for feeling constantly. The hands… that would make him vulnerable… the hands that stopped him from being able to love… To feel…
He hated himself for that feeling, the feeling of fear whenever he went out, and his date got too touchy, too comfortable, the feeling of worthlessness, like his life barely had meaning so why not have nothing? Why not take the only thing left? Innocence. He wept… tears stung his cheeks as he fell to his knees, this was normal. It was normal for him to weep into his knees as if he were a child who was told no at the store. But instead he wasn’t a child, he wasn’t a teenager. He was an adult. Suffering in agony while everyone around him was fine.
Everyone around him was peachy, perfect, happy, they had bright smiles, loving partners. And what did Void have? Bloody hand prints that decided that his life would be harder, that he would fear physical touch yet crave it all the same. The words written went in looping circles like his thoughts. Bad thoughts. Thoughts that clouded his brain, that took over like the plague, over and over blaming himself, as if he was at fault for how he felt and thought, like he was the one who did this to him.
He looked up. Where was he? The cold water sent shivers down his spine, making goosebumps appear on his skin… time… He lost track of time. He assumed it was 12, maybe later in the afternoon. He got out of the shower, not bothering to turn off the chilling water as his wet hands checked his phone, his fingers pruned. It was 12 all right. 12 at night. He had lost his train of thought, spiraled again. Why was he like this? Why did he do this to himself? Why was he forced to loop the same thing over and over? Why was he forced to go back to what he was when he was 16? Why? Why? Why? Why!? He held on tightly to the edge of the sink, looking into the mirror at his sunken cheeks, at his cold face. He looked ill. He hadn’t eaten for a while and he was starting to grow hungry.
Hungry, what a strange word. It meant empty. He knew a lot about being empty. Love. Love was one thing he didn’t have his fill in. And yet. After years of being scared of love. He craved it. His hand gently touched the cold glass of the mirror, smudging the fog like steam that had been on it. It felt as if he had been sucked in entirely, as if he himself was now inside the glass staring back. As he pounded and pounded on it. Wanting out. But that was all fiction. For he was still here. Only in his mind was he trapped in a realm of glass yearning to come out, yearning to make something of himself.
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Cliff is a normal teenager in Colorado who finds comfort in pages, books, and worlds of fantasy when going through rough times. They hope to write and help someone else find comfort in pages as well. What they wrote were true feelings; feelings they have felt all too well before.
Diamond Gazette 