Maybe living long enough for Kyle to leave me is just some kind of fucked up punishment for being such a complete and utter cunt to everyone I've ever known.
Annie tried to comfort me when he left. It didn't work. No matter what anyone tried, I just spent hours curled up in a ball, crying my eyes out like a fucking baby.
Mom came to visit every day, and said that she hadn't told dad, because she knew he would say something stupid and make me feel worse than I already did. I begged whoever was nearby to kill me, and told Campbell to shove his name plaque up his ass when he came to try and get me to calm down.
After a couple days, I just stopped talking altogether, unless it was to answer a direct question. I just wanted to get out of there and maybe succeed at killing myself for once. Because seriously, what fucking point was there in my existence? No one cared anymore.
I tried to pretend for a few days once I was out, that I was okay, that Kyle's choice to leave me was fine. I knew I wasn't enough for him, so why'd I keep stringing myself along, letting myself think he loved me back? Part of me was even tempted to go to the diner to see if he was still working there so I could pretend to him as well that I was okay.
I stayed at the apartment, tidying away Kyle's stuff in bags to hide under the bed. I can't afford the rent and bills on my own, but mom says she'll help with that as much as she can. She, Rayn and Annie all came to visit me most of the time, but I was always left on my own at night. My only company after they left was the bathroom floor and a razor. I don't think there's much of my skin that I can reach that isn't cut or inflamed from its nightly abuse. It doesn't matter. I don't have anyone to look good for now anyways.
I gave up shaving and if I had a shower, it's because someone practically forced me to. Rayn and Annie both discovered that the only way to stop me from just sitting in the shower getting soaked is to have a shower with me. Annie was shocked by the state of my skin at first, but I think she's used to it now. Rayn's never been bothered by it.
It's maybe a week or so after I got out of hospital that I see that guy again - the one I thought looked like Phil before. I'm walking, this time, to the shop, ‘cause I ran out of... something. I forgot what it was almost as soon as I left the apartment. So it doesn't matter that I carry on walking right past the shop, following this guy. I stop after a while, though, wondering if I really was hung up on Phil all that time I was with Kyle. I shake my head a little, watching as he walks out of sight before I turn back to the shop, trying to remember what it is I ventured outside for in the first place.
Rayn distracts me, though. As I'm wandering around the store, I find Rayn in the candy aisle, staring at the huge pick ‘n' mix thing, a bag in one hand and the scoop in the other. He's stoned.
"Hey, Damien," he grins, looking at me, "they're all so pretty. Don't you think they're all so pretty? They're so pretty I could just... die from the prettiness." That's wonderful, honey. "Wanna know what else is pretty?"
"What else is pretty?"
"Phil. He's back, y'know. I told him where you work. He said he'd try and go see you later or something."