I Am Barely Breathing

Alex.

I don’t know why he doesn’t want to talk to me. So what if I interfered with his suicide attempt? Am I really so terrible that he doesn’t want me around? And why is his dad taking his suicidal kid to a shooting range? Is he not aware of how his son is acting? I shake my head and head home.
I get home and not so much to my surprise, my dad is drunk. My mom and brother aren’t home either, which just strikes more fear in me. I try to sneak past him to the stairs, but he hears me and turns around, an evil, toothy grin playing on his face.
“Just the kid I wanted to see.” He says, standing up, a bottle of Jack in his hands. I gulp and glance at the stairs. He’s drunk, his basic motor functions won’t work as fast as mine. If I run, I can get to my room without a scratch on me. Before I can make that decision, however, I hear glass shatter, making me jump and look at him.
He has a shard of glass in his hand, his hand starting to bleed. He walks closer to me and I realize if I wanted to get out of here safely, I should’ve already been up the stairs. I trip on the bottom step and my dad towers over me.
“Ever wanted a tattoo?” He asks, leaning down and grabbing my arm.
“No! Dad! Stop!” I cry. He pulls up my sleeve and smiles deviously at me before he presses the glass shard to my arm. I cry out in pain, trying to pull away, only making the pain worse. When he finishes, my arm is so covered in blood that I can’t even read what it says. It can’t be good though.
“Go!” He shouts, grabbing my shirt and throwing me towards the front door. I get up and leave the house, slamming the door behind me. I collapse onto the driveway, looking at my arm, tears forming in my eyes. I pull my phone out with my good arm and dial my friend, Braden’s number.
“B-Braden?” I say when he answers. “C-come and get me. P-Please.”
“Alex? What happened?” He asks.
“Just… please. Come get me.” I tell him. I give him my address since I moved and he hangs up. I sit in my driveway, the pain in my arm receding probably because it’s going numb. It looks deep too.
When Braden gets here, he parks his car and gets out, running over to me.
“Holy shit, dude.” He says, helping me up. I stagger a little bit, probably due to loss of blood and he helps me into the car and gets it the driver’s seat. “Please tell me you didn’t do that.”
“M-my… dad did.” I tell him.
“That makes it worse, okay.” He says, pulling away. “I think it needs stitches. Do you mind if we go to the hospital?”
“I… I feel dizzy.”
“Hospital it is.” He says. He heads there while I try to keep consciousness and when we get there, he gets me out of the car and carries me, bridal style, into the ER. “My friend got jumped by some kids and he’s bleeding really badly. I think he might need stitches and he said he was feeling dizzy.”
“Okay, sit in there and wait to be called and sign this out.” She says.
“We have to wait?! He’s going to bleed out!” he shouts. The nurse just sighs and calls a doctor down. He comes out and sees the state Alex is in, pale and bloody and he looks at the nurse.
“You were going to make a sixteen year old boy with a bleeding arm wait? Look at him.” The doctor says. “Come with me.” He says. Braden nods and follows him. They give us a wheelchair in which Braden puts me in and we head to a room.
The doctor cleans up the cut, looking at what was carved in it. Braden holds my hand to squeeze for when it hurts.
“’Worthless’?” he reads. I sigh, closing my eyes. “Who did this to you? Not yourself right?”
“No…” I trail off, continuing to fight for my consciousness.
“A bunch of kids from school.” Braden says. The doctor nods.
“He needs more blood.” The doctor says. “Is there anyone I can call for you, young man?” He asks me. I nod.
“My mom.” I say. I hand Braden my phone and he pulls up my mom’s contact. The doctor calls her and Braden squeezes my hand.
“Close your eyes, bud.” He says. I nod and do as he says. My mom shows up fifteen minutes later in a panic.
“What happened?” she asks.
“He was jumped by some kids at school.” Braden says.
“We’re going to fix him up don’t worry.” The doctor says. “Though, he’s been trying to keep consciousness for a while, so he’s lost a bit of blood. We just need someone of the same blood type.” The doctor says.
So he and my mom take care of that and when they do, they’re sticking me with needles and then numbing my arm. He stitches up my arm and after an hour, they let me leave. Braden follows my mom and I home in his car.
“Was this your father?” she asks, pointing at my bandaged arm. I nod. “I’m so sorry, honey. If you want to go to Braden’s and have him take you to school tomorrow, you can.” I nod.
We get home and I ask Braden if I can spend the night and have him drive me to school. He, of course, agrees and I pack up. I head outside and get into Braden’s car.
“If you ever need to come over because of your dad, please don’t hesitate to call me, okay? I don’t want your dad hurting you again.” He says. I nod and he heads to his house.
I know my dad is abusive when he gets drunk, my mom’s told me, but he’s never laid a hand on me. The fact that he carved “worthless” into my arm really shows that he truly doesn’t like me. He truly thinks I’m a waste of fucking space and that’s what hurts really bad. My dad, who’s supposed to love me no matter what, hates me.
How I’ve maintained sane through all these years, I don’t know.

Notes

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