Love & Monsters

& GRAY

There are five pills in my hand: one antipsychotic, one mood stabilizer, two antidepressants, and an anti-anxiety med. Five colorful capsules full of chemicals I'm supposed to swallow with water two times daily, even on an empty stomach. 

At sixteen, this makes me a freak. 

Don't take them, don't take them. 

Yeah, I heard you the first five thousand times. 

They're poison. 

In a sense, I guess they are. 

Poison. 

It's my first day back at school since The Incident, and instead of hanging out with my friends, I'm hiding in the last stall of the girls bathroom staring at my medication. I look back and forth between my hand and what lies below it. The pills. The sparkling water of the toilet. All I have to do is spread out my fingers and the little capsules would slip through. They'd dissolve into nothing. There'd be no evidence. 

Throw them away throw them away throw them away!

The door swings open, accompanied by hisses. I peek through the crack of the stall, and sure enough, a redhead's world is ending. 

"If you ever open your mouth again, I swear to God I'll—" A cheerleader. Six feet. Blonde. Of course.

 "What? What are you going to do, Kelly?" The redhead, drenched in black everything. Black make up and black clothes drowning out pale skin and bloody hair. 

"Stop it. Just stop it, you fucking psycho." 

Redhead leans in close and whispers a word I can't catch. 

Kelly smacks her. The slap echoes across scribbled walls, looking for a place to land. Red lets out a small laugh beneath her hair. Her face hangs twisted to the side. 

"Stay away from me." Kelly turns. The door swings.

Red's perfectly still in the roaring silence. She finally lets her head roll all the way back, scarlet hair falling behind her. Her shoulders go up, down, up, down, down, down. But no sound escapes. 

She pulls back her sleeve. A scatter of scabby criss-crossed lines call out to her. She digs through her backpack, gulping air. A razor reflects the dull florescent lights. She turns to her image in the mirror, her face changing when she catches the glint of metal. Gray eyes become dark and flat. 

She gently drags the tip of the razor across her lips, like a lover's fingertips. She shivers and closes her eyes. Redhead brings the edge's sharp bite to her wrist, ready to sink it into flesh. 

I need to do something. Now. 

She jerks up at the sound of the toilet flushing. I exit the stall, but she doesn't putaway the razor or pull down her sleeve. Redhead squints at me. Tilts her head. A spark of recognition. 

"You're the girl from the play." 

Ugh. Yes I am. When will everyone forget? 

Her eyes trace down my arm, to my hand. "What's that? Are those pills?" I wish I could rip myself apart and start all over again. Instead, I point to her arm and mirror her question. What's that? Those lines on her wrist? Secrets aren't free. 

Her eyes flicker with amusement, and she smiles. Redhead takes the razor, and without breaking eye contact, drags it across her wrist. Scabs break apart. Flesh splits. Blood bursts. She doesn't even flinch. Holy shit. 

"Stop!" She laughs. 

She's crazy. 

Right. Says the voice in my head.