It’s dark and I’m barefoot. I’m sitting on the front step of my brothers apartment crying, wishing to die, wanting to claw my skin off. I stand to leave, knowing they won’t notice. I walk away from their apartment in tears with no plan in mind. I just need to get away. Away from myself. I walk and walk, the tears blurring my vision. I walk past the liquor store they frequent. I walk past the dollar store. I need to DO something. I see the brick pillars in front of the stores and I start hitting my arms against them, trying to produce bruises. I continue walking, the crying is now sobbing. I get a text from my mom. “Are you ok?” I respond, “No.” I explain that I’m walking around barefoot, sobbing, suicidal. She asks where I am. I say near a specific bus stop. She says to go there and stay. I do.
Shorty thereafter, my brother arrives. He sits next to me and wraps his arms around me. I lean into him and cry. We sit like this for I don’t know how long. Then, he quietly asks if I want to go home. I say yes. He stands and grabs my hand. He leads me home. The ground I was too distraught to feel earlier I feel acutely now with my bare feet so the walk it slow, but he just silently guides me home.
When we arrive home, he puts me to bed in his bed and closes the door. I feel alone, closed off, but safe. I cry myself to sleep.
The next morning, we act like nothing happened.