My Friend's Sister

Chapter Fifteen

Author's Note: love y'all! Feeling so fortunate to have your love and support... Get ready for a new chapter and enjoy!

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"I know that I'm hard to love. Some days I'm all smiles and affection and then other days there's nothing I want more than to be quiet and lie in bed.

Sometimes I get angry about stupid things and won't talk to you. Other days I'll think that your the most perfect person in the world.

Please don't give up on me. I know it's not easy, but I'll always come back to you."

- Unknown (We Heart It)

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Mason's POV

She's kissing him.

Just like I feared.

She kissed him.

I found them together. Their arms around each other, their lips locked together, their bodies so close. It's an image burned into my eyes and I cannot get it to leave my mind as I drive.

The wind shield wipers cannot move fast enough to compete with the pouring rain.

I can see her crying on the pavement.

Good. She should cry.

No this was all my fault. If I hadn't gotten drunk... if I hadn't said those awful, personal things.

No. She made a promise. She knows who you are. Your past.

I feel like I'm going to be sick. I spot a turn off and pull into it, parking in front of the rest area and close my eyes. This is worse.

Their arms are tight, their kiss passionate. Her fingers were raking through his hair like she always does with me.

I lean back in my seat and stare at the ceiling.

I could die here.

She doesn't love you. You're a horrible person and she doesn't want to be with you. You don't deserve her. You don't deserve anything.

I get out of the car, running to the rest stop. By the time I get inside my clothes are dripping. I walk to the little store section next to the cafe and poke around until I find the razor section. I bypass a series of women's shaving tools and reach the men's with the replaceable razor blades. I pick up a box, my hands shaking and take it to the counter, paying for it with a couple, wet wadded up bills.

The girl at the counter has 20 piercings all on her face and gives me a weird look as she puts the razors in a bag and hands them to me. Maybe she knows what I plan to do with them as soon as I reach that car. Maybe she is just tired and grumpy. I'll never know.

They were eating each other's faces off.

You did that.

She kissed him because your actions.

She kissed him because you weren't enough.

His hand was so far up her thigh.

I fall into the front seat again and open up the packaging. I select the first blade and stare at it between my fingers, reflecting the sickly yellow light of the rest stop.

The cuts on my wrist from just 2 weeks ago glare back at me as I make the first cut, the first careful incision like a surgeon. The blood wells up on my skin and streaks down my wrist until it gathers in the crook of my elbow.

I'll cut myself until I die.

I'll cut myself until her face fades from my memory and the pain goes away.

I'll cut myself until it all disappears.

I write her a letter in my head, my lips mouthing the silent words as I carve my pain into my skin.

Dear Emma,

I'm not sorry I'm dying. I'm not sorry I said what I said because it was true... clearly. I'm not sorry that I cut myself again to make it go away.

I'm sorry that I didn't get to make it right with you and tell you how beautiful you are. How much you mean to me. How much you make my heart feel like it's something made just for you. And your voice sounds like something from your heaven and every time I touch your skin I go there. And when you smile it's like your shining a light down on me when I've been in the dark for far too long and when you say you love me it's like everything is right in the world.

So I'm sorry I'm jealous. I'm sorry I'm angry and fucked up in the head. I'm sorry I always make a mess of your life and mine and I'm sorry that I will never be enough. I'm sorry that I'm leaving you again. I'm sorry that it took me seven years to admit my feelings for you and two years to try and get you back. I'm sorry that I'm a coward and a screwed up kid with daddy issues and gets beat up way more than the average person. I'm sorry that I'm an alcoholic at the age of 20. I'm sorry that I make you cry. I'm sorry that I love you.

So here I am. At an impasse of blood and metal and I feel a little colder and a little fainter and that's the only thing I'm holding onto. I love you. And I think you love me too, but we're both too fucked up to be with each other without ruining one another. So I am releasing you. With this final signature written in my skin you'll be free to live without your dark cloud. Maybe then you'll find a man who makes you laugh more than he makes you cry and get married without him thinking your trying to undermine him every second of every day. I wish it didn't seem like such a horrible thing. I wish I didn't hate the image of you with another man. I wish it didn't make me sick. But I love you Emma. So I release you. I release you once and for all.

Sincerely, Mason