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It’s crazy how time seems to go so slow but it’s actually been passing me by quickly. I mean, it feels like it was only yesterday I moved here, and all of a sudden everyone had a hate campaign thrown against me. Now look, it’s the month of November already.
Today’s Monday the third and I can’t believe it’s only been two days since Halloween night. The night that changed my life forever. I lost a part of me that night and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get that back.
That means it’s been six days since the wedding happened, and six days since the hospital fiasco with Knox happened.
Time…
It means nothing but it also means everything. It feels a lot longer than six days, longer than three, if I was being honest.
But then again, time doesn’t really mean all that much to me these days when every incident has been blended together and molded into one entity that plagues me daily. It’s like my mind can’t differentiate what happened when, anymore. The only thing I’m conscious of is the pain that engulfs me when I try to think about all the things that transpired. I guess it’s true when they say that a lot can happen in a short amount of time.
I will myself to stop thinking about all of this for now and with a groan, I roll out of bed. My whole body aches as I make my way into the bathroom. I brush my teeth and shower. Once I’m done, I head back into my room to get dressed in my stupid school’s uniform.
I stop short when I go to walk past the foot of my bed and see pages of drawings scattered on the floor. These are definitely all new and what I drew last night while I was drunk and high off weed.
I move to sit on the floor, wrapped in nothing but my towel. I pick the drawings up one by one to look at them. I’m not surprised that most of them are from Halloween night from different angles. Both of them, the two people who assaulted me. I’ve drawn to look like monsters.
Not that that’s far off the mark after what they did to me. One of them is a picture of my head that looks like there’s a jumbled mess inside. That one is definitely one hundred percent accurate.
The last few that I pick up are of course ones of Knox. It seems as though I can never go through a drawing session without drawing him. He seems to be my constant muse and it worries me a bit. I’ve never had a singular muse like this before and it’s making me think that I might be a tad bit obsessed with the man, too.
I shouldn’t be, but I am. I think our story might be the strangest and most toxic one I’ve ever come across. Only an idiot would still have any type of feelings for the man who hurt them.
The first drawing of him is one that depicts him as the monster I still see him as sometimes. But as I look through the rest, the image of him gets better and better until the last one is the perfect human image of him.
It looks so lifelike that even I’m stunned for a moment that I was the one to draw this. It captures his every perfection and minor imperfections that make him… him. I wish he really was this beautiful and innocent like the picture depicts.
Well, he is beautiful, but it’s all a lie. He’s just another devil wrapped up in a handsome package. Underneath it all is the demon who wouldn’t think twice about destroying you.
Before I let my mind run away with me again and take me down the rabbit hole I want to avoid, I pick all the drawings up and stack them together before stashing them under my bed with the rest. It’s the safest place to hide it since I don’t want anyone else seeing them.
Once I’m done with that, I quickly get dressed before Knox comes looking for me. I’m surprised he hasn’t broken down the door yet.
I grab my bag and then head for the door. I move the chair away before slowly opening it and peeking outside. The hallway is empty and I’m surprised. I expected to see Knox standing out here with some kind of scowl on his face.
I take in a breath—one I didn’t even realize I was holding in—before I start to make my way down the stairs. I slowly make my way into the kitchen and see that he’s already up. He’s standing by the stove making breakfast, already dressed in his school uniform.
I know he hears me come in but he doesn’t turn around. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, so I just sit at the table and rest my head on it for a little while. It still feels like someone is using a jackhammer inside there.
A few moments go by and then he comes over and places a plate with breakfast in front of me. I want to refuse, but one look at his face tells me that I shouldn’t mouth off to him this morning. He still looks really mad.
I sit up and dig into my food. He moves away to go to the fridge to get a bottle of water. He hands it to me with two Tylenol and I take it gratefully. I stop eating my food for a second and drink the water and swallow the pills.
“Thank you,” I tell him, and he just grunts.
“Eat all of your food and then when you’re done, we’ll leave,” he grumbles.
“Okay then, Mr. Grumpy pants,” I mumble.
“Don’t even start because you’re on thin ice right now,” he says, giving me a scathing look.
“For what, dickhead?”
“You disobeyed a direct order yesterday,” he growls.
“Direct or—what are we, in the fucking army?” I question.
“I told you not to go anywhere and you still did, knowing that you aren’t feeling well. Plus, you went and got fucked up too. Are you trying to fucking kill yourself again?” he snaps.
