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•🚪 Scars • 246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0qr1tdxMax
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Oasis Counselling246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhfQFcgSo23
Helping you find246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYHi64cbKVV
Peace of mind
Formatted in bold Californian FB font, "OASIS" emphasised in ocean blue, while the rest subtly compliments in coconut brown. Slapped to the left of the slogan is a simplistic attempt of a clipart island, complete with a solitary palm tree. A bubble in the very same blue, hugs the island, of what I can only assume, is meant to symbolise the ocean. Pinned above them both is a dandelion yellow blob, which again I'm gonna have a stab in the dark and guess it's a sun, doodled in rough and soft circular strokes. Birds in silhouette taking flight in various places over the blank backdrop. All of this on yet another white background.
I flap the card against my palm in thought, as I sit in the world's hardest chair while in a boring waiting room. Nothing but this cruddy card to look at. Am I the island or the birds in this scenario? Maybe I'm neither of them. Maybe I'm drowning in that bubble, but I'm so far under I'm not perceptible?
This business card is a load of crap if you look at it closely. If it wasn't for the word "Counselling", I'd assume Walter was telling me to take a holiday. But heck, I called the number printed on it two weeks ago. The days that have passed since I dialled it have led to this day...246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1JyRFA8KLJ
246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFoUfGCiHr1
Exactly that night two weeks ago Reece did take me home, but of course, in classic Reece style. Peering at me when he didn't think I was looking, darting his eyes back to the road whenever we caught each other. Opening his mouth every so often to say something but words failed him, instead a nervous chuckle would come out. Eventually, the car came to another stop, but this time outside my own apartment...
"Who was Tiffany talking about?" Reece asked as he gripped the steering wheel, staring down at his hands, before turning his head to scan my face hazardously.
Breathe Guy...
I took a deep breath and paused as though the words were stuck in my throat.
"..No one..." I felt completely dead inside... it couldn't have been further from the truth. Another lie I had told myself. As the truth is, she wasn't no one, she was everyone to me.
"Who was she, Guy?" Reece pressed, his gaze was fixed to my face but not my eyes this time around.
And I made sure of it. I diverted my attention away by looking out of the window, dodging Reece's question like I avoided his glare. Staring out at my lonely apartment with its black iron fencing surrounding it, as though guarding its own heart against being destroyed. Protecting it from ever experiencing any turmoil that could damage it, altering it permanently. Building its walls stronger and taller to ensure it will never happen again.
"It's that girl isn't it?" He continued to probe me, his screwed up face reflected in the window, from the lack of answers he was getting.
And yet, I still didn't respond. Anything that would have come out of my mouth would have been a lie. Instead, I continued to fixate on my flat. The concrete steps that led to the bottle green door, beckoned anyone to give it their best shot. To dare stamp all over them until their feet were just blisters at the end of their ankles. Knowing they're capable of making a fool out of anyone with the wrong footing.
"The one from that ball?" Reece verbally prodded, poking the bear with a stick.
My eyes had left my flat and trailed to the heart of the place. The Brunswick green door stood at the top of the small set of stairs, conflicted with itself. Begging to be called upon. To be wanted. To welcome anyone who conquered the stairs into its home. Yet it taunted to be kicked into splinters, as though confident no one would have the audacity. After all, those splinters may only be fragments but they can cause immense pain if administered in the right way.
"Why does Tiffany know and not me? Here's me thinking I'm your boy.." Reece's tone walked a thin line between bitterness and resentment the longer I didn't provide an answer.
"..She knows nothing.." I cut him off before he could go any further, as I shot Reece a dirty look.
"Sure as hell didn't look like nothing." Anger crept into his voice, yet he controlled it, keeping it on a tight leash.
"..Look, you know what she's like. Anything to get a rise out of me." I gnawed around the bite.
"And what a rise she got! I mean, dude! What the fuck were you thinking! Where's your head at, Easton?" His lip curled up a fraction of an inch. His fists balled tightly as his eyes bored into me.
"..Firmly on my neck, Adler..." Once again I threw that armoured smirk of mine on, ready to face yet another battle.
"For once in your fucking life, answer me, Easton!" Reece's words sharpened as each one left his mouth, slamming his fist down on the steering wheel when the last word was out.
"..Fine... but before I do... there's something I've gotta do..." My voice detached and clinical as the playfulness fell away like a discarded coat.
I had to eventually. I couldn't keep running every time it came up. There's only so many excuses you can make before they catch up with you. And before you truly lose everyone including yourself...
"And what's that?" Reece's face was sensing a but coming.
"..Admit it to myself..." My voice cracked and raw, looking down at the chrome door handle.
With that, I got out of the car shutting the door behind me. My hands stuffed in my jeans pockets, searching for my keys, as I scuffed the road with my feet. Making my way up the steps, the distant calls of Reece yelling my name as I continued to walk away. They were muffled due to my thoughts swimming in my head again. I caught his last words;
"Fuck you too, Easton!" before the tyres of his car skidded the tarmac and took off.
•••
The morning after, I woke up in the usual state; alone, broken and torn. Accompanied by a pounding headache and lack of memory due to drinking myself into an oblivion. I wanted to escape into one of my many bottles of whisky last night and that urge had followed me into the next.
The events from the night before began to filter into my brain, like a filmstrip flittering through a vintage film reel inside my head, despite not wanting to recall them. However, I always seemed to remember her regardless of my state. Rolling over onto my side in an attempt not to watch them or her, an empty whisky bottle laid where she should have rested her head. Where one night she did... I just wanna crawl inside that bottle and hide.
"Fuck this!" Aggravated with how everything comes back to her.
I tossed my torso back over and threw the duvet off me, as though it offended me. I sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands, like that would have cured my hangover. I got to my feet and bowled to the on-suite bathroom. Stopping at the sink before twisting the tap into motion, splashing the cold water, as I brought it to my face. I snatched the hand towel that limply hung next to the sink, scrubbing my face dry with it before I dumped it on the floor.
I caught my reflection in the mirrored doors of my bathroom cabinet that stuck out from the dark navy tiles, smoothing my hands against the grain over my stubble. Tracing my hacked-at jawline as I gave myself the once over, checking my pecs were still in decent shape.
"..You're a handsome bugger, Guy Easton." Winking at my reflection with that quarter of smile, I slapped on just to make it through each day.
Internally you're nothing but a gargoyle...
My hands guided their way to my eyeballs. They were still bloodshot. This was their new colour now, blue in a sea of red. The grey that once inhabited them now gone, another thing I had been stripped of. Tugging and pulling at them wasn't going to bring them back, it would be a waste of time and energy if I had persisted.
Forgetting my eyes, I ran my hands through my jet black hair, however they were transfixed on the man they saw. As though they once knew him, or at least they used to. I dropped my hands onto the rim of the basin and applied pretty much most of my pressure on to it, as I hung my head. The tap still pouring it's heart out as I stood there, braving it to take another glimpse. I couldn't stand the sight of this Guy staring back at me. I don't know that Guy and I couldn't care less about him either.
Breathe Guy...246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ58RPB9tj2
I can't do this anymore... 246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx9UKBKbfY8
For fuck sake Guy, breathe...
Putting the voices to an end, I severely swivelled the tap off and turned my back on that Guy in the mirror. Heavy footed, I stormed out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom. My footfalls trembled the flooring beneath as though it was terrified of my next move, as I struck out for the chest of draws in front of me.
The space cold, empty, and smothered in darkness, reminded me of what I had become. Tiny rays of light came through the gaps between the slats of the blinds, as though attempting to brighten my miserable existence. They obviously didn't try hard enough, as the room was still in total darkness. My solitude, my fortress of confinement. The four walls that consist of my bedroom, only know the parts I tell it. But its also seen the sides of me no one knows exist, and probably never will. I tugged on a T-shirt and stepped into a pair of joggers, as my thoughts began to swarm my headspace again.
You're exactly where you deserve to be.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpeXXOPO404
Alone at rock bottom.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6ZSYrw5Gnp
And the worse part?246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX3YuoszW6Y
You didn't even attempt to soften the fall.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrU5uU481Q3
You're a waste of space. 246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtvkfxtpWuY
A good for nothing.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo8E6eu36Jq
Low life246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlBbED2nmva
Piece246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLXzy6Evj1X
Of246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpd9Lr7mAyS
Scum.
"SHUT UP!" My hands clasped my ears as though the voices crowded me. The walls caving in, I scrunched my eyes shut, praying the darkness will consume me and the voices in my head with it.
"I've gotta go, fella." Her bodiless, modulated voice banished them into the far depths, only to be replaced with different whispers. The ones I never said.
I crumbled to the floor and cradled my legs before I foraged for my phone in my coat pocket that had been abandoned on the floor. I pressed the button to bring my screen to life and I swiped away the notifications, for a clearer view of her. My arms wrapped around my legs tightly, not letting them go as I peered over my knees at my phone screen.
She always had to go... Casting both a gift and a curse on me when she walked away. Everything that made my existence worthwhile was in her strides and she took them with her every, single time, leaving me with nothing in the end. Just once, I wished she took them with me.
And without being there she'd done it again. Her turning that slender back on me was enough to make me want to tear up every particle that embodied me and burn it. Douse it in petrol and watch that fucker burn. But I can't say I blamed her, I'd given myself the cold shoulder too.
I couldn't sit or stand myself anymore. I had reached a breaking point. As I sat alone on the floor she once walked upon, loathing the idea that she effortlessly paraded all over it and then made her exit, leaving nothing behind in her path.
Snarling at her face, while crushing my phone in my grasp wasn't enough for the rage clawing at me. I caved into its abuse, I threw my arm above my head and lobbed the phone against the wall in front of me. I heard the satisfying sound of the glass crashing, as it penetrated into the gritty, painted, snow brickwork. I'd like to say it made me feel tons better, but it didn't. I just sat there, expressionlessly yet still managing to blink and breathe. Looking at nothing and breathing for fuck all.
I don't know how long had passed when the waves came crushing in. Dragging me under, only to bring me back up again for air as it played with my torture for its own pleasure. I got to my bare feet to fight the current and dragged them over to where the phone laid, face down. With each step the dread intensified, ripping at my chest and stomach the closer I got to the scene. The denial rehearsed in my head was ridiculous. I knew it was smashed. I knew it was my fault. But yet, I still continued to believe it wasn't.
My feet inches away from the phone, the shattered pieces surrounded it and yet I was still a mug thinking all would be ok. I knew the broken pieces of glass had been the result of my actions, but denial persisted to stroke my ego and my conscience. I came down to the phone's level, crouching my legs as I gingerly reached my fingers out to rescue it.
Clasping it with my fingertips before I timidly rotated it over to see the damage. Her face still shining, brightening my darkness, while still wearing that fucking smile of hers. The crack that split her face in two didn't even ruin it. It had a flaw but I still fucking loved looking at it.
I ran my thumb along the crack on the screen, it nipped at my skin every few inches as though it was threatening to slice me. I still continued to trace it from the top to the bottom, as though checking there was a pulse. The phone was still alive, but it was scarred just like her.
This is what you do to those you love, Guy.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1vmDd17AMY
You destroy them.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡin4XJAFAlO
Leaving them with scars of you.
I winced at the thought. Glancing down at her face, denial was nowhere to be found. I didn't argue with the thought. I just submissively swallowed it, allowing me for once to accept the truth rather than run from it.
"...I never deserved you..." The words quietly thick and they stung.
That left a bruise but not a scar. Yearning her as hard, as deep and as tragically as I do, now that, scars. My knuckles from last night, sore, swollen and most likely broken, are a visual reminder of my sins, my bad moves and my mistakes. And her; she was a memorial to all of those and much more.
They say the first step is admitting it; what people fail to tell you is how hard that part is, especially when it comes to your own skeletons. If they told you it would be easy, they lied. They may have done so to make you feel at ease or out of care and god knows, how many other bullshit reasons people pussyfoot around the bush. Either way, no matter their reasons, they fucking lied.
I sunk to my knees, dropping the phone, just like I had her. And there I went again... everything always began and finished with her and I fucking resented it. I just sat on my knees, biting down on the skin of my hand to silence the bellows fighting to come out. I dug my thumb and index finger into my closed sockets to prevent the frustration leaking from my eyes. I was just flesh, stretched over bone and muscle, that expressed bitter anger.
"Easty, what are you doing down there?" That Irish twang still apparent no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
Her feather-light footsteps were a blessing as they tinkered their way over to my side. I rearranged my face as I heard her slump to the floor in front of me, in the most ungraceful way possible, before she tenderly placed her hand on my robust shoulder. The rampage inside me fizzed and dissolved like soluble aspirin when added to water, occasionally hissing as it clouded over.
"Easty, you feckin' eejit. What am I going to do with you, huh?" Lauren's voice was as light as her footfalls. She withdrew her hand to place it on her lap.
I removed my digits from my eyes and shifted them through my lashes to see Lauren, who was also sat on her knees. Her round eyes fluttered over my face as a small smile developed on her pearly cheeks when I rose my head.
"...We both know what you'd wanna do with me..." a coy smirk stitched in my lips as I gave her a wink.
Lauren's oval face wrinkled in grimace before she did a gagging gesture with her finger. Her wide, jade green-blue eyes landed back on my face as she narrowed them with a wicked sneer.
"Throttle you that's what!" Putting her tiny fist to my chin, to imply she was gonna knock me out. Seriously that girl, she's a legend.
A sulky pout tuckered my lips as my eyes narrowed into triangles. I folded my arms as I soundlessly showed her the back of my head.
"Oh please, get over yourself! You're not a gift to every woman who walks this planet." Lauren's expression rolled her eyes for her.
She didn't have to tell me twice. I'd already established that.
"For once be serious. You're overdue a chat." Her tone taking a serious route as I guessed her face did the same.
I dropped the sulky act and shifted my head back in her direction. I wasn't gonna argue with Lauren. I'd had enough of those with myself already that day. I dismissed it with my stoney outlook as my hand sliced the air below my chin, signalling to cut it out. Just because I didn't retaliate didn't mean I had to hear it. I was just relieved she'd stopped calling me fucking "Easty".
"You've gotta start talking, Guy. It's not gonna be easy but I know when you do; you'll smash whatever this is... like you have your phone by the looks of it." as she absently stared at the damaged carcass that she'd picked up, before she handed it to me.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeYc0aJorPG
"Who is she, Guy?" Her eyes glinted at the phone screen, brightly displaying her face.
Breathe, Guy...246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSokXLjHRJK
Here we go again...
"..You sound like Reece." Looking away from Lauren and from her as I hastily stuffed the phone into my pocket.
"Unlike Reece, I remember a face." The smugness in her voice was somewhat irritating, as she got to her feet.
I didn't even wanna dignify that with an answer. To do so would mean conversing in something that she'd never understand. If she did, I doubt she'd still be standing there. But where did that leave me? Reece? Fuck no! That twat still gets distracted by his own feet! Which only leaves me...
"Let's get some light in here." As she manipulated the cord for the wooden blinds to open. Tugging at it as though springing the blinds into life.
The sun's friendly glow ricocheted off the brushed oak flooring and the walls, giving every object a whole new lease of life, including that card that Walter gave me. I don't know if it was the hangover, Lauren or the lack of natural light, but something made me notice it on the floor, at the foot of my bed, where it had been the entire time. I slid it over to my side with my fingers before slipping it up into my grip. Peace of mind...
"Guy? Come on, Reece has been outside all this time." Lauren bringing me back into my bedroom, but this time it didn't feel as confined.
"..Reece?" As though I had trouble understanding who that was.
"Yeah dumb arse. Reece. He's outside. How else would I of got in?" She stated as though it was so obvious.
"...Right... I forgot that idiot has a key." Scratching my head at my stupidity. What the fuck possessed me to give him a key? I must have been high but I can't deny it, I was happy to know he was downstairs looking out for me. He never does fail to show up, as though it's his purpose, but some things you've gotta do alone.
For the first time in my existence since her, picking myself up off that floor was the easiest thing I'd done. Still with the card that Walter gave me in hand, in that moment I knew what I had to do. Not just for her but for Reece, Lauren, and as hard as it was to digest, me too.
"..I'll meet ya down there, Lau. I've just gotta make a call and brush these beauts." My thumb pointing over my shoulder to the bathroom.
With that, I strolled to the on-suite, carrying a little less weight. The voices of my scarred ego silent. Closing the bathroom door behind me, pivoting the lock into action. The grinding of its mechanics confirming everything was safely behind that door. I took my phone out of my pocket with one hand, while my thumb and index finger held the card in the other.
Breathe, Guy.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHiObFBLxcP
You've got this.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTtQQJlIBw3
You're Guy, fucking, Easton.
Laying bricks as I dialled the number on the card, but I braved it. Psyching myself up with my name, as though it meant something. A name is nothing without meaning. But I kept breathing, knowing this shit had to be done...
And here I am two weeks on, sitting in a bland waiting room. Soulless even. It's so incredibly sobering that it makes me wanna get shit faced. But fuck me, why has this seat gotta be so torturous? To prepare me for what awaits in the next room... myself?
"Guy Easton. She'll see you now." The feminine cooperate voice announces, as though the waiting room is crowded. I'm the only sad fucker in here.
I rise to my feet, slipping the card into the front pocket of my blazer. I swagger my way over to the front desk, where I rest my forearm on the surface of the high gloss counter. Leaning my face towards the butterscotch, curly haired receptionist. That smirk well and truly prepared for war.
"..Where exactly am I seeing her?" With a superficial polite, dusty demeanour.
The receptionist almost falls off her chair at the question that comes out of nowhere. A hand on her chest where her gold badge pinned the name "Betty" to her matching ocean blue tunic. Her mature, almond shape eyes, resembling pecan nuts in colour, ironically, jumping to my face. They glaze over instantly as her face falls back into a calm storm of professionalism and tact.
"My apologies, Mister Easton. Down the hall, first door on the right." Tucking a stray ringlet from her bob behind her ear, as her voice continues to be collected.
"..Thanks, Betty.." Like the well-mannered Guy I can be as I idly tap the desk.
Footing it away from the counter, I make my way down the corridor in a series of marches and plods as though I can't decide how I was gonna go about this. Either way, this was happening despite my feet wanting to leg it in the opposite direction. I'm standing my ground. The clicking of my oxfords on the polished floor as I make my way further down the hall. Dress to impress they won't know what's coming, I'll go in there all guns blazing yet I'll be unarmed.
Now face to face with the "first door on the right" at the end of the corridor, my scars begin to bleed. Looking the door up and down as though it's judging me. I rise my fist to knock some sense in to it...
Scars; life's tattoos. They can be your biggest mistakes or your greatest achievements. You can keep them covered or you can flaunt them. No matter their part, they only contribute to a chapter of your story, it's up to you how much of it they tell. Scars don't define you, if they do; you're wearing them all wrong. Apparently time is their healer and so far, I've proved that to be false. In order for mine not to be a nasty blemish, I'm going back to face them. Rolling my sleeves up for all to see, including myself. After all; the clocks go back sometimes... maybe it's about time I do too...
246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiT89E6iGyN
246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡen1bXYn4pq
