BABY GIRL

4.

Nate

I shouldn’t be out running at 10:25pm.

And yet here I am. Running at 10:25pm.

My head hurts. My temples hurt. My lungs are burning like someone has lit a match in my chest and forgot to blow it out. I run because exhaustion might be the only thing to help me sleep better tonight. I need to outrun the noises in my head.

I told Dad I needed some air, but what I didn’t say was I needed some silence. Real silence. Not the kind where he’s talking and I’m smiling and pretending to understand s**t. I mean quiet. I need him to shut his mouth and stop talking about her.

I hate her. I hate her back to back and in between the lines. I hate her for many reasons. Her name. Her voice. Her looks. Her personality. She’s the root causes of every bad thought in my head. Every sin in my head. Because of her, I learned so many corrupt practices that have destroyed my morals from the core. If she hadn’t been around me while I was growing up, I wouldn’t have felt things I wasn’t supposed to feel at the age of fourteen. I was supposed to be focused on my books and school, but I lost that focus because Maggie was always, always around me. My grades dropped, and I can’t even count the number of times I let Mom down, even while she was slowly dying. I was a horrible son and remained that way till the end.

I try to shut out my thoughts. The war in my brain and mind. The streets are mostly quiet and empty, except for the occasional cars passing by, the sound of a dog barking in the distance, and the wind blowing towards the north as though trying to show me what direction to go.

I run past a convenience store and a restaurant.

You killed your Mama.

You’ve never been good to her.

You’re a disappointment, a disgrace.

Whisperings continue. Vintage drawings pop up on the sidewalks. A man is blowing the smoke of his cigar in my face. A child is hunched down tying up his shoelaces. A couple kissing in an alley. The train. The honks. The noise. They all fade out after some seconds.

I really thought I would be better off without my meds. Perhaps I’m making a big mistake skipping my meds.

She knows. She knows what you are. A delusional psycho.

I clench my jaw as I push myself harder, ignoring the ache in my thighs and the stitch forming in my side. My heart is knocking against my ribs like it’s begging to break out.

His face comes back too.

His dirty face.

Man from juvie.

“Do you think you’ll ever get out of here, Nathaniel? Do you think you’re normal?”

I want to wipe that smirk off his face.

I shake my head hard.

No.

Not now. Don’t do this to me now, asshole.

You’re fine. You’re out. You’re safe.

You’re home.

Except I don’t know what home is supposed to feel like anymore. Because home doesn’t feel safe either.

I stop running only when my legs can’t take it anymore. I press my palms to my knees, breathing hard, sweating hard.

There’s a low hum in my ears, like the world has been placed underwater. Or maybe that’s just me. I close my eyes for a second and count to five.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Okay.

I open them again.

And start walking back home.

When I walk back into the house, my breathing is steadier and a bit more relaxed. I’m heading to the kitchen to grab a water bottle.

Shit. Maggie is there.

She’s standing by the cabinet, twisting the cap back onto an almost empty water bottle. Her silky black hair’s tied back messily, and she’s still wearing the same tiny sleep shorts and a faded band tee from a while ago. I see her mouth move before I register the words.

“Hi, please don’t mind me. I’m about to leave,” she says.

“Finish what you started.”

Her eyes dart to me like she’s not sure what version of me she’s speaking to. “Oh my God, I thought you’d never talk to me. It’s nice to actually hear you talking to me. I’m happy.”

“What’s there to be so happy about?”

“I don’t know. Just like that. I mean, I still remember how we used to be good friends.”

Yeah, me too. Except I was never really her friend. I was the stupid little kid that secretly desired his older sister’s best friend and suffered greatly because of it. I couldn’t tell anybody because I thought I was weird for feeling the things I felt. I had no idea what was wrong with me, except that even my own body kept betraying me. I dreamt about her and had wet dreams, then woke up disgusted at myself for peeing my pants. Except it wasn’t pee. When I figured out it wasn’t pee, I also figured out how to give myself a good release.

“Can I ask you something?” Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “What on earth happened to us? How did we end up like this?”

She’s really clueless, ain’t she?

I look at her intentionally, for the first time. And this is when it hits me hard that she’s changed a little. Lost some weight with possibly a half-inch increase in height. Also, her skin’s a bit more tanned from all the side hustle.

I don’t bother to answer her. I’m just gonna show her. I walk straight towards her intentionally, and even though she stiffens, she doesn’t move away. Meaning she’s not too terrified of me. Of what I’m capable of doing to people.

I reach for the bottle she just set down on the counter and, without asking, I take it. I put it to my lips and drink slowly, like it’s mine. And maybe it is now. Her eyes are still on me, wide and confused.

When I set the bottle down, I notice her throat bob like she’s about to speak, but I don’t give her the chance to. I crash my lips on hers.

I intend to devour her lips. To kiss her until both of us become breathless, but she slaps me right across my cheek.

“Nate, this is a big mistake and I’m not sorry. You’re my best friend’s little brother for godsake,” she says.

Yeah. That’s what I’ll ever be in her eyes. Her best friend’s “little brother”

This is f****d up. I am f****d up.

Pride wouldn’t let me say I am sorry.

I quietly back off and let her go, too embarrassed because I have just confirmed that she doesn’t feel the same. I hate her so much more. I hate that I’m still madly in love with her. I hate that I’d have to stoop so low and suffer because of this unrequited love, desire, madness, whatever it is. I hate that she makes me feel and think about all the things I don’t want to think. I hate that my sleep cycle is more messed up when she’s in my life than when she’s out of it. I hate that I’m being too cold to her and hurting her feelings too. I hate that I can’t have a normal relationship and conversations with her. Especially after what I’ve just done. She’ll probably put up her guard knowing how I feel.

I turn and walk away, my fists clenching at my sides.

I pretend to be cool about it as I trudge upstairs to my room. I shut my door and press my back against it. The walls close in almost immediately.

Shit. This is not happening again. But it is.

I rip the silent headphones off my neck and toss them onto the bed.

What the hell is wrong with me?

There’s something wrong with me. How could I have allowed myself to do that to her?

Oh my God.

I sink to the floor and cry for the very first time in two years. Not because I am sad. Not because her rejection hurts like burning hell and being ripped open on the inside. But because I hate this version of myself. Hate what I have become.