Page 6 of Broken Skulls

Here no one hates me.

Other than me hating myself.

I guess the man on the other side of the wall might hate me. I don’t know. He hasn’t spoken to me since the day I woke up here.

You know what else is nice about this place?

Not waking up to the fucking sunlight.

I think the nurses opened my curtains every morning just to fuck with me. They always let it shine right in my eyes. A form of torture I’m sure they thought I deserved. But not once did I rise from that bed and close them. I could have, but I didn’t care enough to. Let the world torture me. It will always be worth it.

For her.

Everything for her.

“Yeah, I don’t miss the sun.”

“You do too. You’re a goddamn sun worshiper.”

“I am not. I could stay here forever.”

“You can lie to everyone else, but you can’t lie to me. I live here, too.”

I snap my mouth shut when I hear the little door on the other side of the wall slide open. Quietly, I slip to the floor and over to it. His is already closed.

“What’s your favorite music?” he asks, startling me.

His voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place him. I rise to my knees, facing the little box. I think about his question, but I don’t answer him.

“Hmm,” he hums from the other side. “Not going to talk to me. I get it. It’s easier to talk to yourself right now.”

My fingers wrap around the sandwich he’s left before sliding the door closed.

Hours later, I fly from the bed, startled by the god-awful noise that is coming from the other side of the room.

I crawl over to the little box so I can yell at him. “Stop! Fine. You win. Anything but that. I’m crazy enough don’t you think?”

He chuckles on the other side after the noise – it sure wasn’t music – ends.

A few seconds later, some quieter, bluesy music begins to play.

“Better?” he asks.

“I prefer silence.”

“Well, I prefer you shut up and listen to something other than the sound of your own voice for a while. Do you always argue with yourself like that?”

Has he been listening to me? Shit. I didn’t mention her, did I?

“Maybe you should shut your brain off for a while.”

“Yeah, if you can tell me how to do that, I might not hurt you when you open the door.”

Again, he laughs. Glad I’m so amusing.

“I’ve got a few ideas that might help you shut your brain off,” he adds, his voice low and deep.

My stomach does a weird little thing. It must be the sandwich. I slide away from the wall and climb up on the bed, lying back.

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