Page 16 of Toxic Wishes

The news of Abigail having eyes for fuck-face Toby isn’t even the worst news of this year yet. To name a few, it was Colt’s idea to find me, not my dad’s. It’s him who made the effort to track me down and my mom to get to know me, which put a wrench in continuing to hate him and the world. I got fired from the music store because they said I was gone for over an hour and couldn’t be found, and it was my third and final warning. Technically, it was my first, but I’m sure once the owner found out I fucked his daughter in the back room and caught it on camera, which in my defense, I had no idea there was a camera in that room. I only found that out later because after we got done, I spotted the camera. But if I knew that, I would have at least fucked her in the bathroom or something. On the positive side, at least they understood why I was gone for over an hour that day.

The real reason my brother has been taking so much control of everything is because I found out Toby’s dad called DHS on my dad, Cliff, and since he doesn’t have a dime to his name, he has to rely on my brother and be his little bitch-ass. He has to do whatever he says. So that meant Colt might cut my allowance, which has been paying for my steroids. I know, I told you my dad didn’t do steroids, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t encourage me to. My dad isn’t afraid of drugs. And said drugs aren’t always a bad thing. It’s only when you abuse their use are they considered harmful. Getting bigger has been a good thing because it’s boosted my confidence. But that shit wasn’t cheap, and it’s the only way I can grow my muscles to eventually beat Toby’s ass and be as big as Colt.

Two months ago, Toby pushed me up against the gym lockers, and I didn’t see it coming. I wasn’t as big as I am now, so I’m confident if it happens again, I can take it.

That night though, I didn’t return home. I knew it would drive Colt mad, not knowing where I was. Colt’s girlfriend suggested putting me in military school once I turned eighteen. She’s been trying to get me out of the picture so Colt could eventually focus on his pro-football life with only her in it. I couldn’t blame her. Not after I propositioned her in the bathroom to scare the shit out of her so she’d leave Colt for good. She cried to Colt afterward for hours. I heard her hiccuping from across the hallways. Because apparently, everything was about everyone else but me.

I checked my phone and had ten calls from Colt, fifteen text messages, and one phone call from my dad. I slept on the streets. When I woke, it was 5 a.m., and I was covered in my own puke. My half-brother tugged on my sleeve, hoisting me to my feet, and dragged me to his car.

“You are going to kill yourself if you don’t quite this shit. You need to stay in rehab.” He sounded pissed off and tired. I’m sure he just got into town and didn’t plan to drive up here from Norman.

Ya, well, death doesn’t scare me, bro.

If you’ve lost your faith in love and music, then the end won’t be long.” — Pete Doherty

6

Abigail

“Music is the strongest form of magic.” -Marilyn Manson

I ran to class yesterday. Not literally, but I made sure that Toby didn’t catch me alone in the hallways. There was a rumor that he would ask me out at the bus stop, but when he found out that my mom picked me up from school, he changed his plans quickly and had to take another approach. I’m not sure what Toby and Blake had going on, but I saw them exchanging glances, and it was crystal clear they didn’t like one another. I can’t figure out why since I've never seen them talking at school. But somehow, Toby figured out my last class was English with Blake. Rumor had it he would ask me out on a date before class started.

Knowing that Blake and I shared a class together gave me the strength to Toby. As much as I wanted the attention of a hot, popular boy, I wanted to please Blake more. Prove to him that what I said about Toby wasn’t a big deal and that I didn’t take it seriously. Honestly, I didn’t like Toby that much. Sure, he was one of the hottest guys in school, but I only chose him because he was the only boy who had shown me any attention, and I had no idea why since he could have any girl at this school. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t like the attention a bit more than I wanted to. And a small part of me wanted to make Blake jealous or at least get a reaction out of him. Toby and Blake couldn’t be more opposite. Toby was sunshine, and Blake was darkness. Toby had blonde hair, blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin—a perfect example of a rich white boy with Abercrombie vibes. Blake had dark hair and brown paralyzing eyes, with angular, modelesque features that made him look like he was from New York kind. Add the pale skin, and he screamed Edward Scissor’s hand vibes, but in a charismatic way since he was anything but quiet. That is, when he was talking to me, being friendly.

I was the first one in class to sit down. My teacher eyed me and took this opportunity to praise me for handing in my assignment early. She told me that I should join AP English. I smiled sweetly and told her I would think about it. But after dodging Toby a second time now, then adding AP classes on top of it, that would be a massive blow to my already nerdy reputation. It wasn’t official, but it felt like I was an outcast, even more so now for chickening out to talk to a boy. But it was worth it because Blake looked at me and shot me a quick wink while flashing that dimpled smile when he walked into class. And just like that, we go back to texting our wishes every day at 11:11.

Sometimes it was in the afternoon, and sometimes it was at night. Most of the time, they were random everyday wishes, such as, I wish I could be with you and make myself invisible. I wish I were a genius. I wish I were the wealthiest person in the world.

Other times, they were serious and went deeper, showing each other our innermost fears, wants, and desires. He never said it, but I knew his biggest wish was to have a family—one that was there for him and cared about being present, not just throwing him the latest gadgets and saying, enjoy. Mine was similar, except I wanted a family that recognized me for me and saw my talents instead of the lack thereof because of my appearance.

Another semester passed, exams, orchestra practice, and classes, making it a blur. Feeling left out from my cousins and sister became easier to deal with daily. Acceptance was my new thing, like a coping mechanism, and when I say acceptance, I mean on my part, not others. I felt like I was preparing myself for adult life without being one yet.

Although Blake never asked me to return to the Fallen Angels band, I was grateful we kept in touch. I was more of a solo singer anyway. The Fallen Angels was a rock band, so I’m not sure how it would have played out in the long run.

Earlier in the semester, I heard rumors that they were lame, and some thought they were awesome since they got their first gig. Granted, it was a charity event, but appearing anywhere in public as an entertainer is always a good sign. We continued to send each other music pieces we wrote, in my case, I wrote and sang. Sometimes, it would be videos of ourselves. Other times, it would be the raw thoughts of pen and paper jotted down of what our hearts felt that day. Blake came out at lunchtime to smoke a blunt, and I would vent about how my family still acted like I didn’t exist and my cousins were sucking my sister into their snooty mean-girls circle. He would bitch about his home life and narcissistic brother and deadbeat dad but said how music and weed was the only thing he had to get him through. We checked up on one another to make sure my disorder and his addiction weren’t getting the best of us. And although we knew it wouldn’t stop the other from relapsing, it did help to know someone was on the other end holding the other person responsible. The effort of keeping at least one person’s hope alive helped. Their will to go on and try to stay alive made it much easier to hold on for dear life. At least, that’s what my optimistic mind told me to believe.

7

Abigail

'I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.”-Tom Waits

Age Seventeen

I blow out my candles and pace myself to eat a slice of cake. However, I have managed to eat healthy foods three times daily and regain a healthy weight. Eating sweets and things that are still considered taboo are challenging to swallow. Those guilty pleasures tasted good going down my throat, but the guilt always won. In turn, bulimia has been my new friend to the anxiety of eating. At least when it came to eating things I deemed terrible. I threw up after eating a huge meal with my family or when my body craved fats and carbs, and I overate on purpose, knowing I would throw it all up later. I hated myself afterward, but I also felt a sense of control at the same time. I haven’t told anyone about those relapses, mainly because I was scared. Embarrassed. Ashamed. All of the above. The one person I wanted to tell was Blake, but it seemed like I would be turning him off somehow, now that we were a little older. And he’s been getting plenty of counseling since his brother is officially in the NFL, and his dad is married to that ER doctor now.

I found out why he and Toby hated each other recently when I scrolled on Facebook and found a picture that Blake was tagged in sitting next to Toby. He looked miserable. They were forced into being step-brothers by marriage. I feel like Blake is occupied with other problems now and has moved on from our fragile attachment. Plus, his new car and muscles have made him into one of the guys who go through girls like water at school. It’s what I heard in the hallways anyway. Blake Killian was a male slut.

Even though I had to deal with my disorder alone, I was glad to see him surpass his addiction. I couldn’t help but wonder if dealing with any struggle was easier with the help of money like Blake got from his brother. That’s how it appeared to the outside world, anyway. When I saw him at school, he looked healthy. Flushed cheeks and healthy weight, but the thing about addictions and disorders was that they were easy to hide and hard to detect with the eye of the outside world. You could look completely normal, even beautiful, walking around daily but fighting a war full of turmoil inside without one soul knowing. It was almost scary how much of a facade humans could put on.

As my mom and family continued talking and conversing at the restaurant table, I saw my phone light up. A text message pops up on my screen. I already knew who it was from.

Blake. 11:11 am. Happy birthday, Abs. Have you made a wish yet?

I smiled as I picked up the phone, replying immediately.

Happy birthday, Zodiac twin. Yes, but if I tell you, then it won’t come true.

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