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Ivan was never really the talkative type, he has been inside his whole life avoiding the outside world letting his emotions get the best of him. Until he sees Edith, the girl in the apartment across from his. - Disclaimer: I can't edit my own stuff very well because I've never understood english grammar for my whole life so please give me a break if there are any grammar errors! Please note: This is for mature audience only. There are mentions of rape, self harm, suicide and abuse. If you get triggered this is your warning and I'm not responsible for how you react to such topics.

Thriller / Drama
Age Rating:

Chapter 1.

I was asleep until I heard a loud bang. It was coming from the apartment across from me. It sounded like a piece of glass dropped and shattered on the hard floor. Three seconds later i could hear it scraping the floor as someone was trying to clean it up.

I want to get up and see what's causing all the irritating noise, but that takes too much energy. I'll just do it when I get ready for my psychiatrist appointment later on.

I set my alarm clock for 12:00: PM in hopes i wake up on time. I don't want to miss the appointment like last time. I need my prescription refilled and my psychiatrist fills the prescription out the old fashion way, with pen and paper. Which is annoying because that takes longer and I find it pointless when he could do it digitally.

I don't want to go to the appointment though. I don't want to leave my house. Leaving brings so much anxiety. I get sick and nauseous every time. It makes me tremble and sometimes I think I'm going to pass out. I absolutely hate getting on the bus sick to my stomach, it makes it hard for me to function.

My eyes start to get heavy, I start to fall asleep. I toss and turn until I get comfortable. With my arm under the pillow my head is resting on a another wrapped in my arms. I fall asleep. Who knows what I am about to dream of.
A loud noise starts to repeat, it's my alarm clock. I press snooze and lay in my bed for a couple minutes contemplating going to my appointment. Going means I leave the apartment. I don't want to leave. I want to stay in bed and sleep.

I'm too tired to function at this point, I only have energy when I act impulsively. When I self harm I mean.

I look at my arms to see the reminders. If I don't go then my impulsive actions will continue and I will only see my skin as an empty canvas for the burns I create. I don't want to be this way anymore.

I get up and put some simple pants on, but as I'm doing so the button falls off. I pick up a pair of jeans off my floor. They're dirty. But only I would know that so I put them on. Accidentally sliding my foot through the one hole near the knee in the left leg, it rips my pants a tad bit. I finish getting dressed with a plain black t-shirt and putting my messy long hair in a bun.

I put my boots on and walk past the mirror in the entry way by the door. I see myself. Utterly disgusted. I havent shaved in two weeks and the stubble makes my face look unclean. I mean it is filthy, but I should at least make myself presentable. Dr. Smith is going to think I've fallen back again. And I was trying to avoid that.

I grab my jacket and my phone off the table in the kitchen and unlock the door, my hand still on the doorknob. I look down and contemplate going. I have too. So I open the door.

I step out locking my apartment. I notice a girl across the way. She is quite pale and has tattoos all over her. Covering her long legs and bony arms. The bracelets on her wrist rattle as she moves boxes into the apartment. As she lifts one up I see a scar on her neck. A thick red line. It must be recent.

She looks at me and I turn away and speed walk to the elevator. I press the button to the first floor. Why did she have a scar on her neck I wonder. It isn't my business, but now I'm curious. Could it be a suicide attempt? There are dots around the scar itself, like when you get stitches taken out. It must have been an attempt. That is no accident to cut a line so straight and precise.

The door to the elevator opens and I step out hearing the chain on my pants rattle from each step I take. I take my wallet out of my back pocket and take out a dollar with two quarters. I walk out the doors to the apartment complex and make my way to the bus stop.

I start to get dizzy. The anxiety is kicking in. I take my phone out of my pocket. It reads 12:37. Three more minutes until the bus arrives. I can't stand for much longer or I'll pass out.

I focus on my surroundings. Looking at objects to distract myself. A dead squirrel on the road captures my attention. How disgusting. Its head crushed and its body flattened. Its insides pushed out. It really is disgusting but it took my mind off of what was bothering me.

The bus arrives and the driver greets me. He knows me well as I come every week and sit in the same spot. For someone with such little energy I sure do a lot. I attend therapy every Thursday and once a month I see my psychiatrist.

"How are you Ivan?" Phil the bus driver asks. I don't want to talk about how I'm feeling so I go along with the I'm fine line and smile. That was a good enough response. He left me alone and focused on the road.

The ride to my psychiatrist appointment is a half hour away. The end of this route which is far.

I look out my window and stare at the passing trees. I get lost in thought and think about the girl I saw before I left. She was pretty. I liked her hair and her tattoos. She was beautiful. But why am I so interested in her? I never pay attention to anyone. I reject people and when I do like someone I force the feeling away. I don't like this. I want to stay away from her but she makes me curious.

The scar makes me curious the most. Because I have one too. Six years ago, I was not in a good place. I would burn myself everyday and have blisters all over my body. And my ex girlfriend left me and it felt like I just wasn't meant to be here. I didn't want to be here. It was exhausting to constantly think "when will this day end" and have to sit and do nothing all day purely because I was too fucking depressed to do anything.

I was tired of being called lazy and a freak by my family. Did I mention I wrote a letter as well? To go along with me slitting my throat. I blamed people. Because it was their fault. They made me feel like shit when I was at my worst. They contributed to the uncontrollable emotions I was feeling. They made it worse and I hope it made them feel bad. They fucking deserved it.

The bus stops with a loud screech. I'm on the street that leads to the clinic. As I get off the bus it starts to rain. Fucking great. This is why I don't leave my apartment. More so my bed. I don't want to get wet. Now I will have to get a shower when I get home. My hair is soaking wet but at least I wore a weather proof jacket.

I check the time and its nearly 1:10 PM. Almost time for my appointment. I walk to the clinic and sign myself in. I sit in the waiting room. My appointment awaits.

Ten minutes passed, Dr. Smith walks out calling my name. He leads me to his office in the sane fashion he always does. He opens the door and I sit down in my usual spot, in the chair by the window. The rain hitting hard on the glass.

"Hello Ivan, how are you doing? Haven't seen you since last month!" Dr. Smith says. I hate how enthusiastic he is. I feel like shit why are you asking me how I'm doing I look like the dead squirrel I saw on the road on my way to the bus stop.

Of course I didn't say that.

"I'm managing, is that good enough?" I state.

"Yes, that is good enough Ivan." He writes down on his notepad. His medical notes.

"So tell me, what have you been up to lately....have you self harmed in the last month?"

"No" I lied.

"That's good to hear, I'm proud of you for staying clean" he says with a smile.

"A girl moved in across from me" I blurt out.

"A girl? Have you spoken to her yet? What does she look like?" He asked.

"Yes a girl, and do you really think I'd talk to her? That's too much for me. But I did get a look at her. She has a lot of tattoos, and she has long black hair just like me." I stated.

"She seems interesting, maybe try talking to her when you get home. Maybe you guys will get along."

"She has a scar on her neck like me. I thought about possibilities of what it's from on the ride here. I know it's none of my business, but it's strange to have someone in such close proximity with something like that so similar."

"A scar? Maybe she is like you. If you get to know her then maybe you'll find out what it's from. Take the chance Ivan, opportunities like this don't come very often considering how you never leave your apartment." He says in a serious tone. I could tell he wants the better for me. And I do want to talk to her. I want to get to know her. I think she's really pretty and want to at least have a platonic relationship.

"I'll try"
"Good" he says. We continue with our session and he asks me the usual questions.
The session is over and I exit the doors to the clinic. I walk to the bus stop going over what we spoke about during the session.

At the end of it he asked me if I got any better with the flashbacks. That time I didn't lie. I told the truth. They are unbearable. I don't like having the night terrors every time I sleep. I just want to forget how he treated me.

I hate my father and what he did to me. It wasn't just me. My siblings suffered as well. But not like me. God it was the worst for me. I was always the target and my siblings did anything to save themselves. It felt like they didn't care about me at all.

All I see is when he touched me. He made me take my clothes off. He was so obscene. A disgusting vile man. I'm glad he's dead. But I'm upset I couldn't confront him before he passed. I wanted to scream and yell at him. I wanted to hit him the way he hit me when I refused to do what he wanted. Now those chances are all gone. I literally have a dead beat dad now. And I don't even care.

There is one memory I hate, but I had to talk about it. Dr. Smith said in order to get better you have to bring up the bad stuff.

The one thing I want to forget but can't is when father locked me in the bathroom with him. He touched me. He violated me that time. He touched my private area. And I don't mean my penis. He put himself inside me. And I can't forget how painful it was. I was ten years old. Ten fucking years old. He made me bleed. And after he was done he made me sit in my own filth afterwards. My own blood. It was disgusting.

I was forced to talk about that last therapy session. The therapist looked horrified. She said she could see the pain through the expression on my face. I sat there, calmly. But the therapist looked like she was gonna breakdown. I guess im her worst client.
The bus arrives at the stop near my apartment. I get off and put my headphones on as I walk in through the glass doors. I walk to the elevator and press the arrow to the floors above.

A few seconds later the door opens. I walk in and turn around to press the button that leads to the sixth floor.

All of the sudden a girl comes running trying to stop the doors from closing. I quickly press the open door button so she can get on. I look at her and see that it's the new girl. The one I saw earlier.

She looks at me and tries to strike up a conversation.

"I saw you earlier when you were leaving" she says. I nervously smile. I've not spoken to a girl in so long. How do I do this? I'm going to say something wrong.

"Oh, I saw you too. You were carrying a box to your apartment" I say with a smile.

"Oh yeah I was, I just moved in across from you. I hope you didn't hear me drop a box early in the morning. It was kinda...loud"

"I did hear it, but no worries." I say smiling again. Am I supposed to smile like this?? I'm doing this wrong. I'm going to fuck up.

I adjust the collar of my shirt, and then I look over to see her frantically look away.

She saw my scar. I always do my best to hide it. Maybe this will strike up a conversation.

"I see that. On your neck. You have one like me. I presume It's there for the same reason mine is."

"Ye-" She cuts me off saying goodbye after the door opens to the elevator. Holy fuck. That was a conversation. I had a conversation with a person? I DID IT WITHOUT WANTING TO THROW UP.

I step out of the elevator walking to my apartment. I take out my phone and look at the time. It reads 2:10 PM.

I open the door and slip my boots off near the entry way. I plop on my bed and replay the conversation I just had. I take out the hair tye and let my hair down. It's still wet from the rain.

Still thinking about the conversation, I get up and walk to the bathroom to shower. I have some motivation. Which is quite strange. I've not showered in two weeks. Yes that's gross, but I can't help it.

Closing the bathroom door I turn the shower on twisting the knob to the warmer side. I take my clothes off and get a glimpse of my unclothed body in the mirror.

I feel sick again. My reflection is disgusting. I analyze my insecurities. My stomach. I'm skinny. Rather I look like a twig. But I'm not muscular. I feel ugly without a six pack or muscular arms.

I glimpse at my lower area. I don't hate it. I don't love it. Disgusting reminder of what I've been through.

I snap out of it and step into the scorching hot water. They water hits my back and the warmth soothes me. I sit down in the tub letting it hit my face and the rest of my body. I replay the whole day in ny head as I shampoo and condition my hair. I rinse my hair out and start washing my body. The soap clings to my skin. I rinse it off and stand up straight under the shower head.

I just think about how I always used to shower when things were bad. Showers make me forget. The thought of how warm the water is and what to wash first always distracts me. Why don't I do this anymore? I gave up a long time ago. Why do I suddenly have motivation. I confuse myself.

I get out of the shower and dry off wrapping the towel around my waste and walking to my dresser. I look for pajamas.

Its only 3:36 PM. I don't care though. Pajamas are the only clean clothes I have. I put on my boxers and a pajama shirt. In the middle of putting my arm through the sleeve my door bell rings and I jump.

I've not heard that bell ring in months. Who could it be?
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