Page 85 of Eternal

AZRA

“How To Disappear Completely” by Radiohead

Past

P ills, pills, pills again.

I need them all, I need out.

I’ve been waiting for him to come tonight, but he never did.

Maybe tonight I’ll sleep without being scared, maybe I’ll be fine, maybe I’ll be…

The pills slide down my throat, one by one.

Dry, chalky, and heavy.

Please give me numb. Please. Please, please, please give me numb.

I strip off my clothes, step into the shower, the water is too hot, but I don’t care. I need to feel something, or nothing, I don’t know.

I sway, grab the wall, dizzy, and the heat makes it worse.

How does this end?

I think about that a lot, if I die, does he stop?

If I die, does it mean he wins? Does this mean I’ll be happier up there?

I don’t know, I never know what to do.

I look down at my legs, the old scars, the new ones, the ones in between. I hum one of my mother’s favorite songs under my breath.

She had a pretty voice, once.

Before alcohol and tears stole it from her.

“I’m not here… this isn’t happening.”

I press the blade to my skin.

One. Two. Three.

The pain spreads, hot and sharp, blood runs in thin red lines down my thighs, swirling into the water, turning it pink and I exhale, the blood always makes me feel clean.

And then the door opens, I freeze.

No. Not him. Please.

“You’re here. I missed you, little one.”

His voice is thick, like sickness.

I don’t turn around, I don’t want to see him. I’m naked, I’m fifteen, he shouldn't be here, but he is.

I can hear him stepping closer, heavy boots against tiles, the smell of cigarettes and sweat and insecurity…

“Oh, is that blood? You on your period or what?”

His jacket drops to the floor.

It’s not that, but I don’t answer, I can’t, because if he sees— if he understands —he’ll be angry. And he always finds excuses to punish me.

A hand grabs my arm, hard. “Turn around.”

I shake my head. No, no, no…

His fingers dig into my skin, yanking me back and I stumble, nearly fall. The tiles are slippery with water and blood, my blood.

I don’t want to fight, I want to be gone, high as the sky, far away, like the ocean, anywhere but here.

So, I cry, instinctively. A stupid, gasping sound, and I laugh too, I don’t even know why.

“Why the fuck are you laughing?”

I don’t answer.

His face twists, because he hates this, hates when I go silent, hates when I don’t play along.

The slap comes fast and hard, and I hit the wall, the world goes sideways for a second, then I’m falling, with hands shoving me down, roughly, and my knees hit the floor.

“You think you can disobey me?”

His belt slides free, the buckle scrapes against the tile.

“You’re gonna be punished for this. Who told you to ruin your skin like that?”

I did, I ruined it, because I didn’t want someone else to do it first.

“Now open your mouth and ask for forgiveness.”

Forgiveness.

For what?

For being born?

I shake my head.

Wrong answer.

Pain explodes in my ribs…his boot, kicking hard into my side, my body folds in half and I cough, spitting blood onto the tile and watching it spread, thin and red.

“I said, open your damn mouth.”

I don’t want to.

I’m not here…. this isn’t happening…

But I know what happens if I don’t.

I blink up at him, his belt is loose, his jeans unzipped, his cross swings from his neck, glinting in the dim light. I want to rip it off, I want to shove it down his throat and watch him choke on it, but I don’t move.

His hand tangles in my hair, and yanks my head back. “You wanna act like a little bitch, then I’ll treat you like one.”

My lips part, not because I want to, but because I don’t have a choice, because he’s already pushing inside. Thick and suffocating. He moans loudly, like he enjoys this, like this is normal.

And I gag, but his grip tightens.

I can’t breathe. I can’t ? —

The blood is still running down my knees, swirling in the water, my blood. I watch it slip down the drain, and I wonder if it would be easier to let the rest of me follow.

The door of the room is open, I can see her. I don’t know how long she’s been standing there, but she is.

Her nightgown is pristine, pressed, her hair is neat, tucked behind her ears. She’s watching, not stopping it, not moving.

Her face is empty, like this is nothing.

Her eyes flick to my legs, to the blood staining the water, then to him, and she closes the door silently, as if nothing is happening, as if I don’t exist.

And I don’t, not to her, not to anyone.

I want to scream, but my throat is full.

He’s groaning, hands tight on my skull, forcing me deeper and it hurts. I can feel my pulse hammering in my ears, my head, my ribs where he kicked me, I can feel his nails digging into my scalp.

I can feel…

He yanks me off him, and I gasp, coughing, saliva dripping down my chin, my body folds forward, shaking, shaking, shaking.

But he’s not done.

“On your back.”

I don’t move, I don’t want to.

I want to disappear into the floor, melt into it, become part of the grime in the cracks, his boot connects with my ribs, harder this time and I fall, water splashes up, burning hot against my skin.

Before I can react, his hands are on me, pinning me down, holding me open.

I’m still crying when he finishes.

I’m not here…. this isn’t happening…

Hot, disgusting, painting my stomach, my chest.

I don’t move, I can’t. The shower keeps running, the water is still falling, the blood is still flowing.

And I am still here.

He leans down, grabs my jaw, and squeezes. “In a few days, we’re having a party.” His breath reeks. “You better learn how to be obedient.” His grip tightens. “Or I’ll lock you up downstairs.”

I don’t look at him, I can’t.

He lets go, spits on me.

Then he’s gone, the door clicks shut, the house is quiet again.

I am still here, still cold, still bleeding, still broken.

I curl up on the tile. Cry until my body won’t let me anymore, cry until the sound becomes silent, cry until the water washes everything away. Everything except me.

They lied . Told me I’d be safe here. They all lied.

I hum the song again until I can’t hear it anymore.

“ I’m not here… This isn’t happening… ”