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"There wasss thiis party. Andd then theeere was this giiirl. Fuckkkk, I mean, you're theee girl I thoouught I saw. I do—don't know, Lenaaa. I'm drunkkkk. I need sleeeep."
He flops down on the bed next to me on his stomach after stripping to his boxers. Ice fills my veins as I replay his words in my head. There was a girl at the party. He was late because he was with someone else. Why else would he mention a girl? I glance over at him. It shouldn't matter. I'm not inlove with Carson, but it hurts more than it should. I feel numb again, worthless.
It's another reminder that I don't mean anything to anyone. It's a lonely feeling, and the negative thoughts fill my mind. I should have never granted myself the freedom of the blade yesterday. Its call is so much stronger now that I've let myself succumb to it.
Carson is already snoring in the bed next to me. I could be anyone here with him right now, and he wouldn't give a shit. He doesn't need me.Nobody needs me. The sooner I let myself just accept that again, the better off I'll be.
I stand and stalk over to the bathroom, wondering if he will even bother questioning the marks on my arms when he wakes up hungover. My hands shake, and my heart slams in my chest, filling me with anticipation. I hid the blades in the cabinet under the sink after I came back from class earlier. I wanted them close in case I felt the pull that I'm feeling right now.
Reaching down, I open the cabinet and grab the pack, pulling out one of the shiny metal pieces. As I grip it in one hand, I glance at myself in the mirror. My eyes are wild, and my nostrils flare. My body aches for the release.
This is what makes me feel alive.I take a deep breath and glance down at my wrist before sliding the metal across it. I close my eyes and let the relief surge through me. When I open my eyes, I drag the blade across my skin again. I should have used the same arm as yesterday. That would have drawn less attention.
I only needtwo cuts tonight. It’s still two more than I should have allowed myself. The blood drips from my wrist into the sink, and I stare at the crimson liquid.If I were to end it all right now, would anyone care?My mind swirls with the same thoughts that have plagued me for my entire life.I don't mean anything to anyone. Nobody will ever need me, so why do I try so hard?I blink through the dark thoughts.
I feel the sting from the peroxide I've poured over the cuts as I go through the motions blindly. Once the pain subsides, I rinse my wrist under the sink and tape the gauze I bought yesterday over it. It seems to be coming in handy more than I originally thought it would.
I take one last glance at my broken reflection in the mirror before going back to occupy the vacant space in bed next to Carson. I fall asleep quickly with the comfort of my self-inflicted wounds.
The morning sun peeks through the window, and the birds chirp cheerfully outside. I glance over to the space next to me in bed and find it empty. The clock shows it’s nearly 10am, and I'm a bit shocked that I've slept that long.
My body must have been more exhausted from the emotions of the day than I originally thought. It’s Saturday, so it doesn’t matter much. I glance down at my wrist to see the bandage has lifted up on one side, allowing the air to scab over the cuts while I slept. There is a small blood stain on the bed, and I groan with the realization that I will have to throw the sheets out and buy new ones.
I step into the kitchen to find Carson fiddling with the coffee maker. "You're going to break it if you do that," I say as I walk toward him.
He turns to look at me, eyeing me in annoyance. "Feel free to do it then."
I scrunch up my face and furrow my brow at him. He is being more hostile than usual.
"You're pleasant today," I say as I slip past him to grab a mug and place it under the dispenser. I pull the frothier out of the way, add the necessary water, and push the start button. It's not that hard to work a fucking coffee maker.
"There's blood all over our sheets, Lena." His eyes land on my bandaged wrist, and then he looks back up at me. "What did you do to yourself? I don't understand how you can be fucked up enough to hurt yourself like that. When I started talking to you, you told me you stopped cutting. It's the only reason I even agreed with your parents to ask you out."
When I tell you I am shocked to my very core, that would be an understatement. My parents? What do my parents have to do with any of this? There's no way they would insert themselves in my life like that. Actually, that sounds about right, knowing them. I was leaving Cherry Hill, and they couldn't control me or my narrative anymore. This has my mother’s name written all over it.
"What the fuck did you just say?" While I'm usually numb to emotions a good majority of the time, anger fills me over the prospect of mymother having any kind of say in my life anymore.
"Pretty sure you heard me loud and clear." He shrugs and pushes past me to grab the cup of coffee.
"I'm pretty sure I heard you say my parents were involved with us dating."
"Okay, good. You can at least hear properly." He pushes past me toward the living room, so I follow closely behind.
Everything over the last two days has just started stacking up. The video, the girl who sent it, the girl at the party, him coming home at 4am, him commenting on my cuts, my parents being the reason we're together—it's all too much.
"I'm not doing this with you anymore. We’re done."
"Okay." He slumps down on the couch, reaching for the remote as if I didn't just break things off with him.
"I mean it, Carson. And I want to know if you have any more videos of the two of us that I have to worry about."
"I did you a favor by letting that get out. The other guys on campus might actually look your way now. Unfortunately, though, that was the only time I filmed us. With the shit you’re into, I could probably make a killing selling them. If you're ever strapped for cash, let me know. I'll give you another good fucking."
I stand between him and the TV, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't get it. Three days ago, you were all about making sure I was happy. You were the perfect little fake boyfriend for an entire year. Two days ago, you were practically begging me to forgive you for being the reason a sex tape was released. Now yourtune has completely changed directions."
"Yeah, well, when I saw that fresh bullshit on your wrists, I realized you weren't worth the effort. You don't even like me. I'm pretty sure you know that I've been sleeping with other people for months now, and you haven't said anything about it. You just pretend to not notice."
"That's because I didn't notice, asshole." I shake my head in disgust. I knew I shouldn't have let myself cling to the idea of him for so long. I thought we could make it for the long haul, even though I wasn't in love with him. He was nice most of the time and has a decent career path. I figured if I was going to settle into life with someone, why not him?
