Elijah P.O.V

I take a deep breath with my mouth and drive under the cold water. I shudder at the temperature and quickly rinse the blood off my face. It is a little hard to do this in the sink, but I don't want to take a shower in the middle of the day. I only take showers at night or early in the morning. I just can’t bring myself to do otherwise. It just feels wrong. I take my head from under the tap and close the water, before taking a towel and wiping my face. The bleeding has stopped, but a bruise remains where Mikael hit me. I think I will go with the door excuse. I will say that I was engrossed in my book and opened the door without paying attention and it hit me on the nose. Yeah, they will totally believe it. I don't know how many times I fed them this excuse, but they always believe it. I would too at their place, with how much I read and how little I'm aware of the world around me as I take my mind in other universes. Also, I'm generally clumsy. I always trip over air when I walk.

I put the towel back on the towel rack and take off my t-shirt. It has blood on it and while my excuse is credible for the bruise, I don't think they will believe me if I tell them that the door hit me so hard that I bled. Yeah, it will just make them even more dubious. I put my top in the sink and take the spray to wash off stains. I usually use it to take off the paint on my clothes, but it can be used for blood as well. It works the same way. I put it on my t-shirt and let it do its magic. A few minutes later, I rinse off the product and watch with wide eyes as the blood disappears. It never ceases to amaze me how a simple spray can make all the stains disappear, cleans all dirty things. I wish I could do the same to me...

I come back into my room and put the top in my dirty clothes' basket. Samuel knows what I was wearing today, so if he doesn't see the t-shirt in my laundry hamper he will suspect something. Why does he have such a good memory anyway? I can't even remember what I wore yesterday for the hell of it. That's why I have tons of post-it on all my walls and inside books. Can never have too many post-it, man…

I walk by Pita's picture and smile sadly at it. He died a few years ago. I was so heartbroken that I cried for weeks and wouldn't get out of my bed. With all the shit I was dealing with at that time, it was just too much for my little self to take in. My only friend was dead. The only living being that I told all my secrets, I even talked to him about 'him'. It is a really big proof of how much he meant to me. Except for him, I never told anyone about what 'he' did.

I need to stop thinking about this, I can feel the beginning of an attack and I'm not ready to have one so soon after the other. I'm still weak and feel as if my members are made of jelly. Lime jelly… I feel my stomach make a sound at the delicious thought. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday's lunch and it was just a small sandwich. I'm never hungry after an attack and I'm just not hungry because of the antidepressants normally, so I don't eat a lot. That must be why I'm so skinny, but even if I know this, I can't force myself to eat more. I will just feel like throwing up and be even more weak after. Samuel knows that I eat like a bird, so he makes sure not to cook me big meals, but ones that contain all the necessities and a lot of proteins.

Quality over quantity, like they say.