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Trigger Warning: Suicide, self harm
?Why am I doing this again?? I question, drumming my fingers nervously against the dressing table.
?Because, Dylan invited you. And it's a party! Everyone wants to go to a party!? Lya's voice now has a note of exasperation. I've lost track of how many times I've protested against going. She continues, ?Besides, you need to live your life. After all, you aren't dead ye-? Lya stops speaking, her eyes wide. She starts apologising profusely, but I just wave it away. ?Yeah, I know. I get it. Fine. I'll go.?
I'm used to this. Lya doesn't mean any harm, she never does. And because of that, she gets away with saying nearly anything. Whatever she thinks, she says, there's no filter. At times, this trait is quite admirable in her, especially when she's standing up to someone who's being an ass. At other times, it's insensitive, and she has no clue about the way her words cut into you, like they're physically slicing open your skin, your heart, your wrists-
An unwanted image pops into my head, of a boy's body, limp and lifeless, dried blood clotted where he cut himself He still looks so much like me. If I look at him long enough, the picture will blur, and I can almost imagine that it's me on the ground, not him. Not him.
Lilac coloured nails wave in front of my face, snapping me out of my reverie. ?We need to go, Lyss! The car's here!? ?Right?, I agree hastily, getting to my feet and absently smoothing my dress out, looking it over in the mirror. I must look rather anxious, because Lya comfortingly puts her arm around me and squeezes my shoulder. She looks at me through the mirror, all smiles, ?You look gorgeous, darling. The guys won't be able to take their eyes off of you?. I nod weakly, not caring to mention that guys are the last thing on my mind right now. Lya sticks a kiss on my cheek, before sashaying away, a whirlwind of excitement that simply draws attention. As soon as she leaves the room, I feel myself deflate Lya's the kind of person that can brighten up a room by simply being in it. I'm the opposite. Maybe that's why I was so drawn to this explosion of enthusiasm in sixth grade, maybe that's why we're friends. I turn to examine myself one last time in the mirror, my eyes jumping to the lipstick mark on my cheek.
Red. Lya's signature shade.
It looks like blood to me.
---
?Oh my God, Alya! It's so great to see you! And is that Alyssa you've brought with you??
Several voices call out our names as we walk through, Lya walking ahead of me with her head high in the air, taller with her heels, me scrambling behind her like a lost puppy. I nod towards all the drunken teenagers shouting ?Alyssa!?, waving awkwardly as a response. Their faces merge together, I don't remember half of their names. Alya strides ahead, directly into the center of the room, immediately at ease as she converses with half a dozen people at the same time. I relocate to a corner and fervently hope that no one sees me here.
I scan the noisy room, already feeling out of place. I haven't been to a party since Sam killed himse- last year. It feels oddly familiar though. Parties are always similar, no matter how hard you try to make them different. There's always bottles of illegal alcohol stashed around the house, drunken laughter, slurring speeches, and awfully loud music, causing party goers to scream in order to be heard. I swallow as I watch them shout at each other, my own vocal chords straining for them.
?Terrible, isn't it??
I practically jump out of my skin at the sound of the voice, spinning around to see who spoke to me. It's a girl from my Physics class, Lana Carter. She's gorgeous, she tends to keep to herself, but she always manages to save me a seat in class, or share notes when I need them. She doesn't exactly have a huge group of friends, but she's well-liked, which is more than you could say about me. I nod, hesitatingly, not exactly willing to indulge with a conversation with anyone. She goes on, picking up on my nervousness, ?I mean, it's a wonder we haven't all gone deaf yet. I'm probably going to need hearing aids after all this ruckus?. I laugh lightly and Lana's eyes immediately brighten. ?How are you?? she asks, cautiously. Everyone always asks me that, for ranging reasons. Some have pity in their eyes, expecting me to break at any second. Other people ask it just to seem polite, I get the feeling that they don't really care. Sam's friends, Sam's teachers, Sam's teammates, they offer condolences, a few kind words, but no one ever offers companionship. No one ever tries to understand, to really help. But something about Lana seems different, so I decide to answer her as honestly as I can, ?Not too great, but not too bad either. I'm- I'm getting better. Mostly.?
That's pretty much the truth. We used to be Sam and Lyss. Lyss and Sam. The twins against the world, practically joined at the hip. People used to joke about us secretly being Siamese twins, and we'd laugh. But now, there's no Sam in the equation. It's just Lyss, it's just me, it's broken, I'm broken, it's a shadow, I'm a shadow of what I used to be, I'm his shadow. I'm left behind and it's not right, it's not the way it was supposed to be, it's wrong. It's all so wrong without Sam. Sometimes, it's all I can think about. Sometimes I'm just so mad, so angry at him, angry with the world for doing this to him, angry at myself for letting it happen. It consumes me, just plain and simple rage.
But at other times, I'll forget. I'll forget and I'll laugh at something, I'll smile, I'll be happy. And then I'll remember, I'll remember again, and the guilt of forgetting is so, so much worse than the rage.
Lana draws me back to our conversation as she nods, her blonde hair swinging in front of her face. ?I understand. I lost my sister when I was ten. It's the worst feeling in the world, because it's like you've been ripped apart. And then you go to sleep, and when you wake up, you think it was just a dream. But it wasn't, and it rips you apart again and again and again, forever, and you let it, because there's nothing else you can really do, is there??
I stay silent for a moment, blinking at Lana Carter. ?That's- that's exactly how I feel.? I squint at the girl, as if I'm seeing her for the first time. I find myself absently appreciating how the light highlights her hair in just the right way, really looking at her for once. It's a change from our usual hasty, occasionally awkward interactions in Physics. ?I'm sorry about your loss?, I say, because no matter how much I hate hearing the words from other people, there's really nothing else I can tell her. Lana reaches for my hand and squeezes it, a cliche burst of electricity sparking where her skin touches mine. ?I know. But it gets better after a while, I swear,? I give her a nervous smile and she practically beams back at me.
?It's good to see you, Lyss. Really.? And for some reason, I believe her. She looks at me like she's genuinely pleased that I'm here. It's an expression I haven't seen for the longest time, and it causes a lump to form in my throat. It's nice to feel wanted.
A voice calls her name from the midst of the crowd, bursting our little bubble, inviting her, rather loudly, to a game of Beer Pong. Lana turns to go. She's about halfway there when she turns around and cocks an eyebrow in my direction. ?You coming, Lyss?? A few of the other people in the crowd turn to see who she's looking at, immediately inviting me in too. ?Yeah, Alyssa!? ?C'mon Lyss!?. They're drunk, I bet most of them didn't even know my name before Lana said it, but at that moment, I don't care. The tension drops from my shoulders and I give Lana a smile, a warm, real one.
?Bring it on, Carter!?
If anything horrible happens, just know that my mom forced me to go to this party. Although, I don't think anyone needs that explanation since my pale skin and wreck it ralph t-shirt tells everyone that I haven't been to a party in years. The last one I've been to was my younger cousin's third birthday party. She's thirteen now, and let's say that I wasn't too happy about breaking my iconic, decade-long streak of avoiding any kind of social interaction. So when my mom tricked me into entering her car to "go to that new fantasy movie you always talk about," only to drop me off in front of the QuarterBack's mansion, I was completely livid, followed by a wave of nausea hitting my stomach. I don't even know how to approach the door, or rather the wall of people crowding the entrance.
Most of them were already intoxicated, either by a drink, someone else, or their phone. I've seen all of this already, and rather keep my distance from everyone. Especially since I've only been known for being a ?buzz kill? or ?socially awkward know-it-all.? Well, I'm sorry if you don't understand the value of sharing knowledge, and thinking about your decisions before you make them.
"Have fun she says, it's your last chance before graduation she says," I mumbled and quoted my mom from earlier as I yawned. I'm not even in the house yet, and I'm already tired of everyone here. I doubt that this party will drastically change my outlook on life, and if anything it will only prove that my dark, quiet cave of a room can give me everything that this party can't. Maybe I should just stay out here until my mom picks me up? Actually, that's not a bad idea. It should work like secondhand smoke, but with partying. I can still absorb the aura from this event, without actively participating in it, right? Right. So that's the plan.
?Stay outside and wait for the ride? Hey, that rhymed,? I mumbled again as I paced at the bottom of the steps, not even noticing the pair of eyes on me.
?Gonna go inside or just pace out here all days to burn calories?? A smug voice from the school's most popular cheerleader shook me out of my thoughts, and back into reality. It was Jen Collins, my out-of-league crush since grade school. I heard she was dating the QuarterBack, the host of this party, actually, but then again I hear a lot of things, and most of them come from high in the sky skaters that sit in the back of the class. They could be very accurate or very out of it. Either way, it was always an adventure when I talked to them.
?I um... I'm just gonna stay out here. Gonna get the second-hand vibes from the party,? I'm sure I was crashing and burning to say the least. Vibes? Who even says that anymore? And I never trip over my words, or at least, I never say enough words to trip over. My palms throbbed as my nails sunk into them, a nervous, yet damaging habit I developed in the sixth grade. It was due to yet another encounter with Jen I wanted to ask her to be my partner for a project, but once I faced her, I froze up and basically killed my social reputation. Before, I was just known as the quiet kid, but then I was known as the nervous blob of awkwardness and decent grades. But, I believe I did well in owning that title as it stuck with me through the years. Why is she always here when I'm crashing and burning so horribly?
?Um? okay, enjoy the vibes I guess. Would you mind if I joined you?? Oh my gosh, I have to be dreaming. Yeah, that's it, this is just a simulation, just like in one of those sci-fi films. I'll wake up and be ridiculed any second now. Maybe they might even ridicule me here. If it's not that, then I have to be getting punked. Alright, time to search for the camera.
?Hello, earth to Izzy,? Am I being woken up already? Or did she really just wave her hand in front of my face? Either way, I guess I should respond. Who knows, this could be real.
?Yeah? Hey there? Jen... Jennifer... Jenny,? Oh my gosh, why did I respond? And why am I holding up finger guns at her? I should've just let myself be taken out of the simulation. This cannot be real.
?Wow, no one's called me Jenny since the sixth grade,? she smiled as she surprisingly held up finger guns. Maybe I shouldn't leave just yet.
?Yeah, well if anyone remembers sixth grade, it's me,? I nervously laughed off my embarrassment, remembering my moment of failure back then.
?You mean when you wanted to ask me to be your partner? I said I would, but you just didn't respond and went home early,? Wait? what? She actually responded, and her answer was yes? I don't remember saying a single thing, so how did she know?
?How do you know I meant to ask you?? Now, this is a question I can't get if I went to the movies. This whole party thing might be worthwhile.
?Well, as soon as the teacher was done announcing the project, you immediately got up and stood in front of me. Even though you just opened and closed your mouth without a word, I just assumed and said I would work with you, but I think you just walked away too quickly to hear me. I always thought you seemed nice, so I wouldn't have had a problem with it,? I was completely shellshocked at this new development. I could have been talking to her this whole time if I wasn't so wrapped up in my head.
?Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I really didn't hear you and-? She cut me off as she started to laugh really hard, needing to sit down on the front steps because her body couldn't handle the string rumble of her chuckling.
?It's okay, I know. No need to freak out, there's nothing to be sorry for,? My body relaxed with those words as she wiped the tears from her eyes. That must've really pulled a laugh out of her to be doing all of that.
?Alright, that's good,? A sigh of relief pulled my shoulders down to a calm placement. I still can't believe she thought I was nice. Simulation, or not, I have to stay for this.
?So? still wanna try and soak up these second-hand party vibes or hang out with me in the house?? This time, I quickly responded with an enthusiastic nod, following her through the same crowd that cluttered the entrance. Might as well make the best of this. It's my last chance after all.
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