Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > It's Just Beneath My Skin
I knew that red headed monster was watching me. I could feel his eyes drilling holes through my clothes, exposing me in his mind. Why the hell did I agree to speak in front sex addicts? Was my therapist a god damned idiot? Apparently so. And now because of my stupid bitch of a therapist, I now had a stalker. I mean, I could handle the staring in the classroom, I guess. But after his class, he found me, and watched me. He freaking watched me. Do you know how disturbing that is? Like he was plotting his attack on my body. I could feel his eyes scoping out my body, finding my weak spots or my blind spots. Why did they always find me? What was it about me? Why couldn't everybody just leave me alone? Why couldn’t I just be invisible?
Then, at lunch yesterday, the only time I have my solitude, that demon was watching me. Just like he had in the classroom and just like he had in the hallway. He watched me the entire lunch hour; again I could almost hear his thoughts, deciphering the best time to attack. I honestly didn't understand what I’d done to deserve this. Was I a horrible person in another life? Did I kill somebody? Did I rape somebody? Why am I getting all of this torture now? It's just not fair.
I was no longer safe here. When I first arrived and I saw all of the security and I figured there was no way somebody could hurt me now. That was until I found out monsters were going to be living down the halls from me. I was so afraid he was going to find out which room was mine and pounce when I was least expecting. Like last night, I pretended to clean the bathroom; again, just so I could make sure he was in his room before I made my way into mine. I can't tell my therapist this, but I even moved my desk chair behind my door knob. Let's see the monster try to get past that. If that creep was going to attack me, I was going to be ready. I was going to fight back.
Well that's what I thought I was going to do until I actually saw him, again. When I watched him enter the cafeteria my heart dropped. I couldn't do this. I wasn't strong. I probably wouldn’t be brave enough to tell him to back off if he tried to initiate conversation. He was going to be able to see right through me, tear me down, and destroy me. Just like my attacker did.
He was sitting a few tables away from where I sat yesterday. Did he sit there yesterday? I don't think so. He sat...he sat by the window. Why did he move closer? He's zoning in on his prey... Oh God. I can't do this.
I was starting to hyperventilate. This wasn’t good. I was supposed to be getting better. I was supposed to be finding my way out of this misery and now I feel like I'm falling deeper and deeper into the black that surrounds me. As I walked to the lunch line, I took a deep breath and looked away from the monster eagerly observing me. 'Just get your lunch, eat, and then leave. He can't hurt you in a room full of people.' I said to myself as I grabbed my tray, putting whatever was on the counter on my plate. I wasn't hungry, I actually felt sick, but everyone needed to eat.
After my tray was filled with food I had no desire of eating, I walked to the table that I declared my own. No one sat with me, but I was okay with that. You see, usually people sit with other people that are in their group therapy classes, but I didn't have group therapy, I was alone. So I sat at the hard plastic table, my head falling to just look at my tray. I studied the steaming meat in front of me along with the vegetables that looked like they came out of a kid’s kitchen set. I told my therapist I was a vegetarian, but nobody made exceptions. So I was forced to have this dead animal on my plate, its smell infesting my plastic vegetables.
As I picked up the cheap fork and stabbed it into a dull looking carrot, I heard a chair scrape the hard linoleum floor across the table from me. Oh God, who was sitting here? Should I look up? Should I just keep eating? Is.. is it that red headed man from the sex addict class. Why the hell is he sitting with me? Or is it that old man from that class? He was watching me too. Does he want me? Did the whole class have a discussion after Dr. Bitch left about how to get me? Is there more coming? Oh, fuck, I'm screwed. Could I leave before the swarm came? Probably not, but I could try. I glanced up nervously through my fringe to spy the loud fire-truck red scream at me. My heart plummeted and my ribs squeezed my lungs. Oh my fucking god, I was going to throw up… They were definitely going to capture me, pounce when I was at my weakest.
Just as I was about to get up and leave this hell that I was currently facing, I heard a voice, it was strangely smooth. “Hey…” Oh, God, I can't leave now, I’d just look like a rude fucker. Why won't they all just leave me alone? I'll leave the rehab or something, if it just got them to leave; to disappear from my life. Don't look up, Frank. Whatever you do, don't look him in the eye. I reminded myself. This guy was bad news.
“Don’t freak out, I just want to talk to you about what you said to all of us yesterday, and yes I would have told you yesterday, but well, you obviously didn’t want to stop and chat… I don’t blame you though! So yeah… I really wanted to thank you for being brave enough to tell a bunch of freaks like us about the trauma you went through. It’s really urged me to make full use of my time here to become a better person. I don’t want to sound like a ridiculous fan girl or something… But you really did inspire me, because well I think a lot of people would have said this already… But you didn’t deserve what happened to you, not in the slightest. Not from what I’ve seen of you anyway…” I didn't deserve what happened to me? Of course I did. I wanted it. I had brought this upon myself. What the hell was this guy talking about? And how did my story help him? Was this some sort of therapy treatment that my doctor was trying out on me? Was she watching?
I looked up and glanced around the cafeteria to see if I could spot her bird like glare, but she wasn't around. She wasn't here. Why was he doing this? And now I had looked up I could feel his eyes staring into mine. What do I do now? I can't pretend like he's not here. He's still watching me. I shifted my gaze awkwardly at objects behind his head, not wanting to look directly at him… I think he's waiting for a reaction. Well he's not going to get one. I'm just going to look back down at my plastic vegetables and wait until he leaves. He'll get bored soon if I don't respond...right?
“So I take it Dr Klien is your therapist too? I personally don’t know how you can stand the bitch! I’ve only had a couple of therapy lessons with her and I want to rip my hair out. The questions she asks! It’s like talking to a five year old over the phone. The small talk drives me crazy… How long have you been under her jurisdiction?” I stayed silent. Why was he talking to me about such normal things? Why was he asking questions, what exactly would mere conversation with me achieve? I did not want to be here with him. I did not want to fucking talk about our therapist. Why is he talking to me like we've been friends for years? I want him gone. I want him to leave. Now.
“Well… Uh, do you see different sides to her than I do? She’s really quite patronizing… And not to mention pushy, she tried to get me to spill my guts to her last night in one-to-one. I’m not a fan of her unorthodox approaches, I told her to get laid before walking out, she’s got that charisma that forces you into doing things you don’t want to do and I don’t like being pushed about by a judgmental bitch. She loves those stereotypes, that’s how she works, she doesn’t waste time getting to know you.” Wow, he was actually making sense. I can't stand how my therapist just seemed to push me into a category with all of her other rape victims, treating me the same way. I was not like the rest of them, obviously, I wanted it. She didn’t even take that into account. She ignored the way I felt about it and decided to treat me like the rest of them. Maybe that’s why nothing she tried on me fucking worked. She just bunched me into a category without even getting to know me.
“I can’t stand it about her, she reminds me of the cow I had last time I was here. Is she like that with you or is she the typical supportive therapist? I’ve never come across one of them; no one’s bothered to get to know me for who I am when it comes to treatment… These ‘professional’ drones just want to usher people like us in and out; a clear cut defined case you know? Group people; complex and unique into the same ‘disorder’ or ‘condition’. It really annoys me you know? I think if they actually bothered to find a cause that wasn’t curable with pills upon pills this place would have a higher success rate. But whatever, we’re all basket cases to them anyway. Even the younger ones are taught to drug up patients at the earliest signs of some made up mental syndrome so the government gets money from insurance companies. They’ve been brainwashed into thinking it’ll help us. To them we’re nothing but statistics. She offered you anything that comes in a bottle yet?” He was so fucking right. I was nothing but a statistic in this place. I was the weak, small guy, raped on the way to school then silenced through fear. How many times has that story been told? Millions I assumed. And instead of getting to know the details of my case, she looked at my file and thought up a way to treat me. A way they were taught at university that’s supposed to fix everyone with the same disorder. Well that's not right because no two minds are alike so one size certainly didn’t fit fucking all. However I couldn’t believe I was hearing this from him of all people. He didn’t seem the intellectual type. He wasn’t supposed to make sense to me.
I also couldn't understand why this sex addict was talking to me about...the politics of this rehab center. Wasn't sex supposed to always be on his mind? And... Why the hell am I agreeing with him? What the hell is wrong with me? I'm agreeing with a monster; a possible rapist! Oh God, either he's using some sort of 'trust and rape' tactic, or I’m actually going crazy, going mental from being housed with nut jobs and addicts. I need to get the fuck out of here. Now.
I stood up and grabbed my tray, clutching it tightly in my shaking hands. I made my way over to the garbage, nearly throwing out the tray as I dumped my trash. I dropped the tray on the metallic cart nosily, it lay next to the garbage and then I continued to make my dash out of the cafeteria. Please don't follow me. Please...
Thankfully there was no creepy, red-headed sex addict following my footsteps, getting closer so our shadows became one. No, that only happened once. As I made it back to my room, I sighed. I just needed sometime alone before I went back to work. I needed time to clear my head. Once inside my room, I passed the mirror on the wall and I stopped, looking at my long dark locks. Was this is reason Mr. Red Head decided to talk to me? Had I attracted another crazy man, unwillingly with just my hair alone? I ran my hand through my hair and tugged on it, I could hear my attacker's words echoing in my head “Your hair is so beautiful.” I remember him nuzzling his head into my hair, smelling it, feeling it. My hair made him want me. Maybe if it's no longer here, I'll be left alone. If I cut it off, I will be ugly; people like him and my newest stalker will no longer want me. I will be free. I smiled menacingly at the reflection in the mirror. 'Goodbye pretty, Frank.' I whispered to myself before I bolted out of my room. My new idea thrilling me. Freedom… Freedom. The word echoed around my mind as I hurriedly rushed around. I felt myself wanting to laugh, no more creeps. No more psychopaths.
I knew that in the supply closet they had shavers. I had seen them. They used them when patients started pulling out their hair or some shit. I made my way down the hall to the closet where I had seen the shavers. I pulled out my key and with a shaky hand I unlocked it, pushing the door open slowly and walking inside. Once inside, I searched the small closet ruthlessly, grappling with most things situated in opaque boxes, needing to find the small electronic device that could save me. I searched shelf after shelf but there was no sign of it. Where the hell was this fucking thing!
I screamed inwardly as I knocked over a box full on empty pill bottles. Fuck! I quickly piled them into the box, shoving the box onto the shelf as I resumed my search. I moved over to the next shelf and there is lay, the shiny silver glinting to me in a tempting manner. I smiled to myself, grabbing it I rushed quickly out of the closet back to my room; which was thankfully situated nearby.
Once inside my room, I plugged the shaver into the wall and turned it on. I smiled when I heard the buzzing break through the silence of the room. This would change it all. I would finally be safe. As I took the motorized shaver to my head, I started at the side of my head, just above my ear. I watched as the strands of my hair fell onto my shirt and onto the floor. A crazy smile formed on my face as I watched the man in the mirror transform from a pretty rape target to an ugly nobody. This was finally what I needed to change, to get better. I could be less afraid, because nobody would want me now.
Or so I thought…
Then, at lunch yesterday, the only time I have my solitude, that demon was watching me. Just like he had in the classroom and just like he had in the hallway. He watched me the entire lunch hour; again I could almost hear his thoughts, deciphering the best time to attack. I honestly didn't understand what I’d done to deserve this. Was I a horrible person in another life? Did I kill somebody? Did I rape somebody? Why am I getting all of this torture now? It's just not fair.
I was no longer safe here. When I first arrived and I saw all of the security and I figured there was no way somebody could hurt me now. That was until I found out monsters were going to be living down the halls from me. I was so afraid he was going to find out which room was mine and pounce when I was least expecting. Like last night, I pretended to clean the bathroom; again, just so I could make sure he was in his room before I made my way into mine. I can't tell my therapist this, but I even moved my desk chair behind my door knob. Let's see the monster try to get past that. If that creep was going to attack me, I was going to be ready. I was going to fight back.
Well that's what I thought I was going to do until I actually saw him, again. When I watched him enter the cafeteria my heart dropped. I couldn't do this. I wasn't strong. I probably wouldn’t be brave enough to tell him to back off if he tried to initiate conversation. He was going to be able to see right through me, tear me down, and destroy me. Just like my attacker did.
He was sitting a few tables away from where I sat yesterday. Did he sit there yesterday? I don't think so. He sat...he sat by the window. Why did he move closer? He's zoning in on his prey... Oh God. I can't do this.
I was starting to hyperventilate. This wasn’t good. I was supposed to be getting better. I was supposed to be finding my way out of this misery and now I feel like I'm falling deeper and deeper into the black that surrounds me. As I walked to the lunch line, I took a deep breath and looked away from the monster eagerly observing me. 'Just get your lunch, eat, and then leave. He can't hurt you in a room full of people.' I said to myself as I grabbed my tray, putting whatever was on the counter on my plate. I wasn't hungry, I actually felt sick, but everyone needed to eat.
After my tray was filled with food I had no desire of eating, I walked to the table that I declared my own. No one sat with me, but I was okay with that. You see, usually people sit with other people that are in their group therapy classes, but I didn't have group therapy, I was alone. So I sat at the hard plastic table, my head falling to just look at my tray. I studied the steaming meat in front of me along with the vegetables that looked like they came out of a kid’s kitchen set. I told my therapist I was a vegetarian, but nobody made exceptions. So I was forced to have this dead animal on my plate, its smell infesting my plastic vegetables.
As I picked up the cheap fork and stabbed it into a dull looking carrot, I heard a chair scrape the hard linoleum floor across the table from me. Oh God, who was sitting here? Should I look up? Should I just keep eating? Is.. is it that red headed man from the sex addict class. Why the hell is he sitting with me? Or is it that old man from that class? He was watching me too. Does he want me? Did the whole class have a discussion after Dr. Bitch left about how to get me? Is there more coming? Oh, fuck, I'm screwed. Could I leave before the swarm came? Probably not, but I could try. I glanced up nervously through my fringe to spy the loud fire-truck red scream at me. My heart plummeted and my ribs squeezed my lungs. Oh my fucking god, I was going to throw up… They were definitely going to capture me, pounce when I was at my weakest.
Just as I was about to get up and leave this hell that I was currently facing, I heard a voice, it was strangely smooth. “Hey…” Oh, God, I can't leave now, I’d just look like a rude fucker. Why won't they all just leave me alone? I'll leave the rehab or something, if it just got them to leave; to disappear from my life. Don't look up, Frank. Whatever you do, don't look him in the eye. I reminded myself. This guy was bad news.
“Don’t freak out, I just want to talk to you about what you said to all of us yesterday, and yes I would have told you yesterday, but well, you obviously didn’t want to stop and chat… I don’t blame you though! So yeah… I really wanted to thank you for being brave enough to tell a bunch of freaks like us about the trauma you went through. It’s really urged me to make full use of my time here to become a better person. I don’t want to sound like a ridiculous fan girl or something… But you really did inspire me, because well I think a lot of people would have said this already… But you didn’t deserve what happened to you, not in the slightest. Not from what I’ve seen of you anyway…” I didn't deserve what happened to me? Of course I did. I wanted it. I had brought this upon myself. What the hell was this guy talking about? And how did my story help him? Was this some sort of therapy treatment that my doctor was trying out on me? Was she watching?
I looked up and glanced around the cafeteria to see if I could spot her bird like glare, but she wasn't around. She wasn't here. Why was he doing this? And now I had looked up I could feel his eyes staring into mine. What do I do now? I can't pretend like he's not here. He's still watching me. I shifted my gaze awkwardly at objects behind his head, not wanting to look directly at him… I think he's waiting for a reaction. Well he's not going to get one. I'm just going to look back down at my plastic vegetables and wait until he leaves. He'll get bored soon if I don't respond...right?
“So I take it Dr Klien is your therapist too? I personally don’t know how you can stand the bitch! I’ve only had a couple of therapy lessons with her and I want to rip my hair out. The questions she asks! It’s like talking to a five year old over the phone. The small talk drives me crazy… How long have you been under her jurisdiction?” I stayed silent. Why was he talking to me about such normal things? Why was he asking questions, what exactly would mere conversation with me achieve? I did not want to be here with him. I did not want to fucking talk about our therapist. Why is he talking to me like we've been friends for years? I want him gone. I want him to leave. Now.
“Well… Uh, do you see different sides to her than I do? She’s really quite patronizing… And not to mention pushy, she tried to get me to spill my guts to her last night in one-to-one. I’m not a fan of her unorthodox approaches, I told her to get laid before walking out, she’s got that charisma that forces you into doing things you don’t want to do and I don’t like being pushed about by a judgmental bitch. She loves those stereotypes, that’s how she works, she doesn’t waste time getting to know you.” Wow, he was actually making sense. I can't stand how my therapist just seemed to push me into a category with all of her other rape victims, treating me the same way. I was not like the rest of them, obviously, I wanted it. She didn’t even take that into account. She ignored the way I felt about it and decided to treat me like the rest of them. Maybe that’s why nothing she tried on me fucking worked. She just bunched me into a category without even getting to know me.
“I can’t stand it about her, she reminds me of the cow I had last time I was here. Is she like that with you or is she the typical supportive therapist? I’ve never come across one of them; no one’s bothered to get to know me for who I am when it comes to treatment… These ‘professional’ drones just want to usher people like us in and out; a clear cut defined case you know? Group people; complex and unique into the same ‘disorder’ or ‘condition’. It really annoys me you know? I think if they actually bothered to find a cause that wasn’t curable with pills upon pills this place would have a higher success rate. But whatever, we’re all basket cases to them anyway. Even the younger ones are taught to drug up patients at the earliest signs of some made up mental syndrome so the government gets money from insurance companies. They’ve been brainwashed into thinking it’ll help us. To them we’re nothing but statistics. She offered you anything that comes in a bottle yet?” He was so fucking right. I was nothing but a statistic in this place. I was the weak, small guy, raped on the way to school then silenced through fear. How many times has that story been told? Millions I assumed. And instead of getting to know the details of my case, she looked at my file and thought up a way to treat me. A way they were taught at university that’s supposed to fix everyone with the same disorder. Well that's not right because no two minds are alike so one size certainly didn’t fit fucking all. However I couldn’t believe I was hearing this from him of all people. He didn’t seem the intellectual type. He wasn’t supposed to make sense to me.
I also couldn't understand why this sex addict was talking to me about...the politics of this rehab center. Wasn't sex supposed to always be on his mind? And... Why the hell am I agreeing with him? What the hell is wrong with me? I'm agreeing with a monster; a possible rapist! Oh God, either he's using some sort of 'trust and rape' tactic, or I’m actually going crazy, going mental from being housed with nut jobs and addicts. I need to get the fuck out of here. Now.
I stood up and grabbed my tray, clutching it tightly in my shaking hands. I made my way over to the garbage, nearly throwing out the tray as I dumped my trash. I dropped the tray on the metallic cart nosily, it lay next to the garbage and then I continued to make my dash out of the cafeteria. Please don't follow me. Please...
Thankfully there was no creepy, red-headed sex addict following my footsteps, getting closer so our shadows became one. No, that only happened once. As I made it back to my room, I sighed. I just needed sometime alone before I went back to work. I needed time to clear my head. Once inside my room, I passed the mirror on the wall and I stopped, looking at my long dark locks. Was this is reason Mr. Red Head decided to talk to me? Had I attracted another crazy man, unwillingly with just my hair alone? I ran my hand through my hair and tugged on it, I could hear my attacker's words echoing in my head “Your hair is so beautiful.” I remember him nuzzling his head into my hair, smelling it, feeling it. My hair made him want me. Maybe if it's no longer here, I'll be left alone. If I cut it off, I will be ugly; people like him and my newest stalker will no longer want me. I will be free. I smiled menacingly at the reflection in the mirror. 'Goodbye pretty, Frank.' I whispered to myself before I bolted out of my room. My new idea thrilling me. Freedom… Freedom. The word echoed around my mind as I hurriedly rushed around. I felt myself wanting to laugh, no more creeps. No more psychopaths.
I knew that in the supply closet they had shavers. I had seen them. They used them when patients started pulling out their hair or some shit. I made my way down the hall to the closet where I had seen the shavers. I pulled out my key and with a shaky hand I unlocked it, pushing the door open slowly and walking inside. Once inside, I searched the small closet ruthlessly, grappling with most things situated in opaque boxes, needing to find the small electronic device that could save me. I searched shelf after shelf but there was no sign of it. Where the hell was this fucking thing!
I screamed inwardly as I knocked over a box full on empty pill bottles. Fuck! I quickly piled them into the box, shoving the box onto the shelf as I resumed my search. I moved over to the next shelf and there is lay, the shiny silver glinting to me in a tempting manner. I smiled to myself, grabbing it I rushed quickly out of the closet back to my room; which was thankfully situated nearby.
Once inside my room, I plugged the shaver into the wall and turned it on. I smiled when I heard the buzzing break through the silence of the room. This would change it all. I would finally be safe. As I took the motorized shaver to my head, I started at the side of my head, just above my ear. I watched as the strands of my hair fell onto my shirt and onto the floor. A crazy smile formed on my face as I watched the man in the mirror transform from a pretty rape target to an ugly nobody. This was finally what I needed to change, to get better. I could be less afraid, because nobody would want me now.
Or so I thought…
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