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His eyebrows raise, and he takes a step closer. “I know you were fucking watching her. I’ll call the police.”
“What’s going on?” My sweet Marla stands on the sidewalk, her arms across her stomach, holding her sides. I swing my gaze to the landlord, cocking an eyebrow. He says nothing.
“Hey Marla, sorry I was looking for an address and think I got lost. This guy started yelling and then you came out.”
His face turns red. “That isn’t it at all, Marla. This guy was peeping in your windows, and I came out to take care of it. Run along inside and let a man take care of this.”Anger flashes through her eyes, she unfolds her arms as she looks from him to me. “Sebastian?”
“I know how this must look. I’m out on a service call and got turned around is all. I’m sorry to ruin your night. I had no idea where you lived.” Shoving the piece of paper back in my pocket, I clench my jaw and turn away.
“Peter, this is my friend Sebastian.” Her voice is music to my ears, “Sebastian, this is my landlord who was just leaving.” I turn to face both of them, a strained smile on my face when I look towards him.
“Marla, I’ll talk to you later,” her landlord spits out before walking away.
I turn to her and rest my hand on her shoulder, noticing she doesn’t move. “Are you okay?” I ask, staring down into her eyes.
“Yeah, he’s just a creep. Have a good night, Sebastian.” She touches my arm before she walks away.
Glancing at my wrist, I check the time on my watch. I’ll have to risk running late tonight. As I rush to my car, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, but once I drive slowly, I feel more relaxed. I see the landlord getting into a van and follow him to an office. I grab a rubber mallet from the backseat and walk towards him before he enters.
“Jesus! Fuck. What the hell, man?” He spins on his heels to look at me. “You scared the shit out of me, you fucking psychopath.” His reaction causes an involuntary grin and without waiting another minute, I strike him with the mallet and watch as he falls to my feet.
Five
Marla
What a weird night it has been so far. Peter came around to talk about fixing my tap in the kitchen, but as per usual, was a gross pig. The smell of sweat and rotten eggs emanated from him, and just like in the past, he tried to touch me. Ishudder at the thought. Last year, he was under the premise of fixing something in my bathroom and instead all my drawers were open when I returned. Closing the door, I think it’s over until I hear voices yelling outside. As I run out to the front sidewalk, I see Sebastian facing me, standing in front of Peter, who looks over his shoulder at me.
Sebastian’s dark brown eyes stare into my soul. He sees me in a way that I feel like I matter. It’s dangerous, feeling that way, like another person could accept you for who you are. Every broken piece, every scar, and the demons within. After listening to them talk and explain, I really think Peter is just an asshole and Sebastian got lost trying to do his job.
After I head back inside, I walk to my bedroom to unwrap the blades from the package, three this time, I shouldn’t lose them again. The pain inside rolls through me. Every emotion I can’t name pokes at the surface for me to acknowledge it is there. I want nothing more than to silence every feeling. There is no middle ground though. Either I feel everything at a magnitude that I can’t stomach, or I feel nothing at all. That is why Sebastian scares me, because his presence lately has calmed the emotions and sparked something deep inside. I sit on the edge of my bed and hold the blade. My phone rings before I can make the first cut. Sighing, I lay down the sharp box cutter and walk to my phone. I guess mother has stopped the silent treatment.
“Hello,” I say as I walk to the kitchen to pour cold coffee into a mug.
“Hello? Hello? That’s all you have to say to me? You haven’t called in days, not even a message or anything. How dare you?” Her voice pricks me like a rose thorn, I want to cut her off when she acts this way.
“I’m sorry. I thought you wanted your space,” I mutter, taking a sip of the old coffee, bitter and cold.
“You are being silly. I love you. Have you been working at least?” Her words still have the power to hurt me. At least twenty years of this, and I can already feel the tears welling up inside. I can’t cut her off, all I want is for her to love me.
“Yes. I’m sorry, mom. I thought you wanted space. You were mad the last time we talked.”
“I wasn’t mad. I was disappointed. There is a difference. I’ve been fine, thanks for asking. I want you to come over tomorrow night. I’ll make dinner. We’ll have fun, I promise.” Fear fills me. I know fun will never happen.
“I’ll be there. How are you?”
“Five, be here at five.” With that, she hangs up. Never feeling good enough for her is something I should be used to. She has spent my entire life making sure I know that I’m worth nothing. Every word, every step of neglect, every lie has been another piece added to the pile to show me I’m worth nothing to her.
Walking back to my bedroom, I shrug out of my sweater and pick up the blade and hold it to my skin. As I watch the beads of blood bubble out of the cut, bliss hits me first. Making a second cut under the first, I watch the lines of blood drip together against the scar tissue of the past and I’m able to breathe.
I slide the blade across the skin for the third time. The emotions are silent and the room spins slightly. I close my eyes and I revel in the feeling. If only I could feel this free all the time. Except I know better than anyone that I will never reach the first time again. The first time I ever cut myself was by far the best and I’ll probably spend my life chasing it.
After sitting in the same spot for a while, I get up and go to the bathroom. I wash my arm, cover it with antiseptic cream and change into a tank and sleep shorts. Then I slip into my bed and fall asleep.
I wake to darkness, the shadows from the streetlights dancing across the walls. A creaking sound fills my apartment and Iscramble out of bed. Walking to the living room, I note nothing is out of place. The lock is still latched on the door, and everything is silent. I try to recall the dream I was having. The last dregs linger, but not enough for me to grab onto the last piece. As I look at my arm, I realize it's wrapped in a bandage, and a faint smell of antiseptic fills my nostrils.
Padding over to my favourite chair, and sitting down I don’t remember putting on a bandage, but details usually get fuzzy after I self-harm.I settle into a comfortable position, pulling my legs under me, and grab a soft throw pillow. I place it under my head. Darkness grasps me and pulls me under quickly.
The day passes rapidly, working on a lot of the projects that I haven’t had the mental capacity to get done. Hitting the send button on a completed project is my favourite part. The thrill of doing something right is needed lately for the validation it gives me. I finish as much as I can, before four PM. I’m able to clear my calendar for the week and it gives me hope that I will pick up some extra jobs. Working from home can be a very isolating thing, but it also gives me the opportunity to not have to face people. It can be a double-edged sword in a lot of ways. I turn off my computer and walk to the bathroom.
