Haligh, Haligh, A Lie, Haligh

Aiden had no idea where he was. He couldn’t remember much of what had happened after he left Jay at the café; only that he had met one of his familiars, taken strange pills from him, and stumbled down the alleyway leading to his apartment. All he knew now was that it was dark and cold, the ground beneath him damp and muddy and soaking through his clothes and into his hair and skin. It was not until he sat up, rubbing his eyes with freezing, skeletal hands that he fully realized where he was.

Before him stood his father’s simple, two-story house, abandoned and dark. He knew that his father had left on a missionary trip weeks ago, and wondered how his old man was and what he was doing at that particular moment. Was he thinking about Aiden? About where he was and how he was doing, too? He also wondered about his brother, who had gone back to school before Aiden had left. And, even about Kerri. Whether she was off gossiping about him to her petty friends or crying after what she had seen at Nora’s party.

As Aiden pulled his freezing, muddy body off the grass, he realized that he had never before felt so alone. The house in front of him mimicked his empty loneliness, with its dark windows and perpetual silence. And, he couldn’t escape the fact that it was all somehow his fault. He felt destined to be alone, to push away anyone who tried to get close or reach out to him. He thought of his father and the youth minister, who had only been trying to protect him, to teach him some sense of morality. He thought of Kerri, who, despite her flaws, had been there for him and supported him through so much. He thought painfully of Ezra, his best friend for so long; who he now realized loved him more than probably anyone in the world. And, Jay...he had pushed all of them away naively. What was he left with then?

He stumbled his way to the front porch of the house, hearing nothing but the sound of his sneakers squishing in the wet grass. When he reached the door, he lifted his hand to feel around the top of the doorframe, hoping that his father had forgotten about the hiding place, or maybe even left it there in the hope that Aiden would come home. His finger finally caught something, and he pulled his hand away, bringing the shiny brass key with it and fitting it into the keyhole on the door.

The house was chilly when he entered it, looking around at all the furniture, precisely the way it had been before he left. He passed through the living room, staring at one picture in particular that hung on the wall ahead of him. There was his dad, smiling brightly, his big hands on the shoulders of the two boys sitting in front of him. One of them was Chris. His short, cropped, blonde hair stuck out at odd angles and his smile was crooked. He looked odd mixed with the other two, his tan skin and broad shoulders sticking out most of all. The boy beside him was someone Aiden found hard to recognize. He had long, stringy, dark hair that hung slightly in his eyes and covered part of his pimply face. He was considerably thicker than Aiden, and his smile seemed genuine and warm. He did not realize his eyes had filled with tears until he blinked them and one single, warm drop made its way down his gaunt cheek and splashed onto the wooden floor.

Aiden slowly began to trek up the stairs, hearing them creak slightly in the silence. When he reached the top, he began walking the familiar path to the upstairs bathroom, as if he’d never left. This time, he dared not look up at any of the pictures that lined the walls, or even to his bedroom door, in fear of what he might see, focusing instead on the chipping black polish of his fingernails.

He was surprised to find that the light even came on when he flipped the switch in the bathroom, he had become so accustomed to the darkness of the house already. Without a second thought, he began stripping off his cold, damp clothes, all the while moving toward the sink. When he was down to his underwear he opened a cabinet door and brought out a small bag. Taking the bag over to the tub, he sat down on the edge, turning the knob so that cold water began spilling into it from the faucet.

Placing the stopper over the drain, he stood up again, unzipping his bag and dumping its contents into the tub, where water pooled over cold metal. He took the bag back to the sink, replacing it and standing back up to look at himself in the mirror. No wonder the Aiden in the photo downstairs had been so unrecognizable. He was a completely different person now. He was useless, more insignificant than ever. An ugly spot on a clean and crisp world. He was fixable.

Slipping out of his last remaining garment, Aiden glided back to the tub, turning the knob again to stop the flow of water. Taking a deep breath and tightly shutting his eyes, he plunged himself into the tub, splashing some of the cold liquid onto the tiled floor.

The pain seared through him, burning his flesh in a stronger way than merely cutting himself ever could, but he did not scream. The hurt that he felt was merely a reassurance that he could feel; that he was mortal, had a heart. He slowly opened his eyes to look down at the water, which was no longer clear, but tinged red with his blood. And that’s when he caught sight of his arms. Pulling them up out of the water, he saw that they were bruised and scarred, not from the razors he had just subjected himself to, but from the numerous injections of too many drugs.

Plunging one hand back into the water, he felt around himself, and, finding a razor that was stuck into the meat of his thigh, proceeded to pull the thing out, flinching for the first time. He brought the razor up out of the water, too, looking at it for only a moment before quickly bringing it down on himself, making two deep gashes in the shape of an “X” on his forearm in quick succession. Warm tears poured down his cheeks, in sharp contrast to the cold of the water and metal around him, as he continued to hack away at his arm, feeling warm blood splash onto his face to join his tears.

The more blood he lost, the slower his movements became, until he had melted into a puddle of flesh and blood, his arms slipping back into the freezing water, which stung his wounds. His eyes were becoming heavier, and he was aware that he would lose consciousness soon, and possibly even die. He knew that, somehow, in the back of his head, this had been the plan all along. But, even with this thought, his mind wandered back to his father. To the great, sobbing mess he might become when he arrived home from his trip to find his youngest son is this horrid state.

“I’m...so sorry...Dad...”

And black was everything.

A/N: Oh, wow. I’m back! It’s been over a year since I’ve updated this, and only decided to try and continue it because I’m bored and have time. :D This chapter was, surprisingly, not as difficult to write as I thought it would be. There are still a lot of things in the air with this story for me. Will Aiden survive or die in the bathtub? If he survives, will he choose Jay, or could he end up accepting Ezra’s love for him? And, there had always been the thought of getting Ezra and Kendrick together. I’ve got a lot of decisions to make in a limited amount of chapters. (only 4 left after this D:) I’m sure I’ll figure it out anyway. In the meantime, look for more chapters coming soon!