Chapter Fifteen

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Fifteen – Ed

My arm itched. I knew it was only itching because it was healing, but that didn’t make it any better. Scratching didn’t make it any better either. Scratching just irritated my new cuts.

I pulled up the sleeve of my jumper, frowning slightly as I took in the perfect canvas for self-destruction that I had taken pleasure in painting on with my blood, with a blade as my trusty paintbrush.  I knew that Tay was good at art and she liked it, but something told me that this was one art form that she wouldn’t appreciate. My fingers lightly trailed over the bandage that I’d tied around my first cut, the one that had gone a little too deep and the one that was itching like mad.

What had I become? Why did I do this to myself? I shook my sleeve back down and tried to think about anything other than the burning irritation that was happening under the dressing.

My thoughts turned to Tay. She still hadn’t texted me. Had something happened? My stomach twisted into a knot. Had Caleb got to her? No, that would be absurd. But was it? Would he really hurt Tay, just because he couldn’t have her?

Today had been just like any other day. I’d woken up; rolled out of bed to clean my teeth because I hated how my mouth felt first thing in the morning; fed Rodent; returned to bed; checked my phone for any sign of contact from Tay; fell asleep for another hour or so; heaved myself from my bed and I had settled in the living room with a bowl of cereal. And I hadn’t moved since, keeping my eyes glued to whatever vapid nonsense was on the TV. As thankful as I was for a day off, I didn’t like it. I needed something to do. I had cleaned the flat last night because I didn’t have Tay to keep me occupied and I’d ordered my bookshelves last night as well, just because they were irritating me. Call it my bookshop worker’s mind, but if my bookshelves were ordered, I felt like I was in control. But I had ended up swiping the blade across my skin again, four times this time. The constant reminder of pain pleased me, in a twisted way. It was a reminder of what Caleb couldn’t control.

Finally, at quarter past one, my phone beeped with a message from Tay.

Tay: Sorry I didn’t text you last night. I ended up staying at Jared’s. Miss you xx

Me: It’s cool, although I did think you were dead for a bit :P xx

Tay: Cheers. Bet you would have organised me a cool funeral xx

Me: Damn right I would have xx

Tay: Gotta go, the beast known as Jared wants my help with his sociology work. Love you xx

Me: Love you too xx

I sighed and threw my phone on the coffee table. I always felt empty, but when Tay wasn’t there, the feeling was intensified. I just wanted some human company, someone to tell me what was and wasn’t so. Someone who could keep my mind and my thoughts straight. Someone who could stop me from pressing the blade to the perfect skin of my forearm. But most of all, I wanted Tay. I wanted her to be close to me, to ground me with her very presence, to stop the harrowing thoughts that seemed to take some kind of perverse pleasure in haunting my every waking moment. I wanted to press my lips against hers and lose myself in the moments we shared when our lips were connected. I wanted to hold her, and never let her go. I wanted her to be mine and only mine.

I shook my head. Where the hell had that last thought come from? I was many things: dead, reincarnated, in someone else’s body, a self-harmer, a recovering alcoholic and so much more, but I definitely wasn’t possessive. Yeah, I was prone to the odd moments of jealously, but I’d never wanted Tay not to interact with any other guys. That thought was the polar opposite of what I wanted for her. That was Caleb’s thoughts, not mine. I hated how I was somehow linked to Caleb through my soul. He could inflict whatever emotions he wanted on me and his thoughts were now melding with my own. Great. I couldn’t have Tay to myself without wondering if Caleb would come along and steal her away, my emotions didn’t exist within me anymore and when they did they weren’t my own, and now I had someone else’s thoughts in my head. And people thought being an eighteen year-old bookshop worker with a beautiful girlfriend was easy. I envied the people who had an easy life without worrying about whether their girlfriend would still be alive.

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