Surviving His Touch

Homebound

It was around 8:00 in the evening when Kameron and her mother pulled into the drive. What was left of it, anyway - the driveway was largely dirt and gravel by now. Kameron's mother parked their grey Chevrolet Corolla in front of the eight-year-old RV, which hadn't been moved since they bought it. She switched off the car and let out a heavy sigh, resting her head against the seat.

Kameron was about to unbuckle her seatbelt and exit the car when her mother halted her.

"You know that it wasn't your fault, right?" Her mother asked, her voice laden with concern.

"Yeah, I know," Kameron replied, managing a weak smile before she got out of the car and picked up her bag. With that, she made her way inside to seclude herself in her bedroom.

Once in her room, Kameron tossed her bag on the floor and flung herself face-first onto her bed. Despite having just woken up, she felt worn out. Without even bothering to change her clothes, she fell into a sleep that was deep yet restless. As sleep claimed her, she remained unaware of closing her eyes.

It was likely around 3:00 in the morning when Kameron eventually reopened her eyes. Sleep clung to her like a persistent odor that never fades. She looked at her phone groggily and saw that her mother had sent her a goodnight message. With everything that had transpired over the past few days, Kameron couldn't shake off the feeling of worthlessness.

Kameron made her way to the ensuite bathroom attached to her room. She had one specific thing in mind. Small, silver, and cold to the touch; Kameron went to retrieve her concealed blade. Despite her distaste for the color crimson, she was captivated by how it appeared as it dripped from her skin.

Upon finding the blade, she locked the bathroom door and proceeded to sterilize it with rubbing alcohol. She removed her pants and began applying the alcohol to her left thigh as well. When she was done, she sat on the edge of her bathtub, and placed the blade against her skin.

Doubts swarmed her mind just as she was about to cut into her flesh. Dismissing them, she started with her first incision. The first cut was always the most painful, mainly because she would push the blade deep and drag it slowly. She relished the way it made her feel. Tears would soon flow, and she would start slashing at her skin more fiercely until all her suppressed emotions were released. Sometimes, she would even scream.

Blood flowed down her leg, reminding her of how the innocent animal's blood had stained her hands. However, this wasn't the reason for her current action; she was cutting her skin because of a single sentence that had hurt her deeply.

H- "That's probably why your dad f*****g hung himself."

Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill as the blade dropped to the floor, producing a faint clink. How could anyone inflict that kind of pain on her? Especially Halle, who knew all too well the torment of losing a parent to suicide. Kameron couldn't fathom how her life had spiraled out of control so quickly.

Stripping off her remaining clothes, Kameron prepared a bath. She would need to clean the blood off the floor before her mother noticed, but that was a problem for later. Once the tub was full, Kameron switched off the faucet and stepped in, wincing as the hot water hit the fresh wounds on her thigh. Eventually, she would grow accustomed to the pain and find relaxation, but for now, she savored it.

She sank deeper into the tub until she was completely submerged. This was her ritual after each 'session', her way of trying to prove to herself that she could handle it. But like previous attempts, she couldn't. Soon, she burst out of the water, gasping for air as tears streamed down her face from her ocean-blue eyes. She must have been in the tub for over two hours before the sobs ceased.

As she lay there in the tub, feeling completely drained of life, Kameron noticed that her thigh was still bleeding. "Oh no," she thought. She hurriedly got out of the tub to pour rubbing alcohol on the cuts and grabbed the gauze she had stashed away. After soaking the cuts in rubbing alcohol and experiencing the sting she loved so much, Kameron started wrapping the gauze around her thigh tightly. It took two rolls of gauze and one of cling wrap to completely cover what would soon become her scars.

Having thoroughly cleaned and covered her gushing wounds, Kameron threw on some loose pajama pants to hide the bulky wrap. She then threw on a sports bra and baggy tshirt, and went to lay down on her bed. Kameron picked up her phone and began scrolling through t****k, trying and failing to ease her mind. Feeling as though nothing could ease the pain she felt, Kameron turned off her phone and stared at the ceiling.

Despite underestimating the pain in her thigh, she decided to get up to prepare a midnight snack. Upon entering the kitchen, Kameron noticed that her mother's bedroom light was on, and the door was slightly ajar. Her mother was whispering to her wife, Gerda, sharing all that she knew about the recent events. Gerda, however, was barely paying attention, indicated by her disinterested tone. Kameron's mother was seeking advice, but all Gerda responded with was a noncommittal, "Really, wow."

With a sigh of exasperation, Kameron's mother rose from the bed and joined her daughter in the kitchen.

"Hey, baby girl, we need to talk," Kameron's mother said, leaning against the counter. Kameron turned slightly to look at her disheveled mother, nodding as she continued to rummage for a snack in the fridge.

"I think we should take in Zoey. She's getting old, and Dia is planning to move to Atlanta soon. Dia even offered to let you live there rent-free..." As Kameron's mother carried on about why Dia was leaving and couldn't take the dog, Kameron started to reflect on her life. Without realizing it, she had tuned her mother out, only to be jolted back to reality by her mother's voice.

"Kam… Kam..? KAMERON!" Her gaze abruptly met her mother's, and she offered an apologetic look.

"Sorry, mom, just a bit distracted," Kameron admitted sheepishly. "But yeah, that sounds good. I mean, I wouldn't want to live there by myself, but sure." Kameron managed a smile, though not entirely genuine, and picked a random item from the fridge.

"Just grabbing a snack," Kameron announced, holding up a jar of pickles and chuckling awkwardly. Her pants were sticking to her thighs where the blood was seeping through. She realized that she needed to leave quickly. Thus, she quickly made an excuse, gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek, and hurried to her room. Once in her room, she placed the pickles down and rushed to the bathroom.

When she reached the bathroom, she removed her pants from her now sticky leg, realizing she had bled through the bandages. Dark crimson blood trickled down her leg, not enough to cause alarm but just enough to be difficult to conceal. Before she could understand what was happening, Kameron's mom was knocking on her bathroom door. Just as it was about to swing open, Kameron forcefully closed it and locked the door.

"Ma, I'm getting undressed!" Kameron yelled, her anxiety escalating at the thought that her mother might have seen.

"You've never minded before... Kam, what's happening?" Her mother asked, her voice filled with curiosity. A cloud of disbelief about her daughter hung over her.

"I just want to be alone, Mom. It's been a lot to handle," Kameron responded, hoping that she sounded convincing enough.

“Okay, but we need to finish our conversation at some point," her mother said, and Kameron could hear her footsteps fading away. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Kameron slid down the door. Her pants were sticky with blood, and her bandages needed to be changed. Too exhausted to cry, Kameron hung her head low and massaged her temples. A migraine was beginning to develop.