one.

                                    

                                          
    I could feel myself spiraling, but I didn't care. It was almost addicting, the subtle shove I gave to everyone around me, slowly creating a wide trench that separated myself from those I loved. I did love them, but they didn't deserve this. They didn't deserve to be around me when I was at my worst. For I was drowning, and I would gladly grab at anything to keep myself afloat. I didn't want to take them down with me. It started slowly, with the constant assurance that I was fine. It began to escalate, and now I lie alone at night. I was nothing to begin with, but it is even more apparent. I am bones and skin. I am a skull with a brain that is lacking. I am far more alone than I could have ever imagined, and it kills me. But at least I feel something other than nothing. 
    Madelyn keeps trying to tell me that everyone misses me, but I don't believe her. If they did miss me, wouldn't they try to reach out? My phone has been silent since the day I shut myself away, save for Madelyn herself. I hear her outside my room sometimes, and I can imagine her, fist poised, ready to knock, but she ultimately turns away at the last second. I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to be around me either. Our only interactions have consisted of the plates of food she slides inside my room in the evenings. 
    I don't eat anything. I think I have been in my bed, numb, weakened, for a few days now. I have drank some water, and nibbled on protein bars, but that is all I have consumed. My mom and dad have failed to reach out, as I expected. Mom is too invested in raising my twin half-sisters to realize that her oldest child craves death. Dad simply does not care enough. Then again, I do try my best to conceal myself from them on the off chance they do check in. I find it to be worth it. Mom gets to raise two perfect angels, Dad lives his adventurous bachelor life, and they continue to be unhurt by me. I say it's a win for them.
    I have memorized the patterns of speckled grime and dust on my ceiling. I know each mark on the walls by heart. I know this room better than I know myself, and I find comfort in the fact that I do not know all of the answers. 
    My hands clench around the soft blue sheets, and I pull them up to my chin, relishing in the bland comfort. I feel the blood rushing through my veins, gentle and slow. I wish it would stop altogether. I hate the noise. I close my eyes, my lids heavy with lack of sleep, but I am too tired to sleep. I am too tired for anything at all. Even the simple, systematic act of breathing exhausts me. My phone buzzes on my bedside table, and I force my eyes open. It's so easy, such a trivial task. All I have to do is lift my arm and pick my phone up, a swift movement that is less than taxing, but I don't know if I can muster the energy. 
    Maybe if I can do this one thing, I'll be able to find my way to the surface. I slowly remove my arm from beneath the sheets, and I stretch it toward the phone, my elbow cracking from the lack of movement over the past few days. My fingers graze the screen, and I still for a moment, letting my palm lie flat on the phone. I squeeze my eyes shut, and my fingers clench in unison. I have my phone in my grasp. All I have to do is move my arm back. So simple. So trivial. 
    I inhale slowly, my lungs aching, unable to handle the capacity of the air I'm trying to take in. If I make this movement, I'll have done it. A small success to make up for this past week. I can do this. I fling my arm back, using way too much force, but I don't want to risk losing this. I don't want to fail again. My phone lands in my lap, and my heart races. It almost hurts, and for a fleeting second it is nice to feel something. I blink slowly, and I turn my phone on, somewhat eager to find out who has contacted me, but my heart sinks immediately. 
    Mom: Hi honey. Just found out that Mike has a business trip the week of Thanksgiving. The girls and I are tagging along. Would you be able to stay with a friend on your days off? 
    For the first time in days, angry emotions storm inside of me. I let out a strangled gasp, my chest burning with shame and anxiety. Hot tears stream down my face, and a horrible scream fills the silence. It is only when Madelyn flings my door open that I realize the scream came from me. Before she can say anything, I fling my phone at the wall, and I watch, satisfied, as it falls to the floor with an ear splitting crack.