Unrequited love

Forty-nine | Lilah

Tracing my hands across my upper arm I take a shakey breath as I rinse the pencil sharpener blade under the sink. It's beginning to dawn on me how real this is all starting to feel. Usually I would wear a tube top and a skirt but wearing a short sleeve shirt isn't even possible for me anymore if I want to avoid attention.

Staring at my upper right arm in the mirror it's covered in a mixture of vertical and horizontal cut lines. The once I just cut definitely stands out since I accidentally made it bigger than usual but I ignore it. Maybe I can say I was attacked by a cat that was royally pissed off?

Pulling my sleeve down I wipe my wet cheeks with the back of my palm before tossing the blade on the countertop. Sometimes I feel selfish for being like this. Sure I've had a rocky year but people have it so much worse and I'm here with a fucking blade. Nothing major has even happened to me in some time so why did I wake up with a tight feeling around my throat. I feel like I'm choking on used air and it was filling me up. I always go outside for air and it just made it worse so I started to cry and cry for fucking hours.

At a certain points I start thinking about my friends then I think about school and that only makes it worse. Now I'm standing in the bathroom with blood staining my sleeve because it's the only way I know how to cope. It's the only way I know how to get the trapped air out.

'Lilah!' I hear Alex's muffled voice from behind the door and for a moment I feel my heart stop. 'Diana told me you where in here? I was bored at home and we haven't hung out in two days...it's weird how that used to be normal for us,' he laughs but my whole body has gone stiff. Barely able to translate anything he's saying, all I'm able to focus on is the panic that's filling my head.

My bandages are in my room.

I'm wearing a light green shirt and the sleeves are elbow length. Stupidly I put down my sleeve so now the blood has spread and it would be the first thing you noticed. Pulling my sleeve up, I ignore the pain as I turn my arm to the mirror. Why the fuck is it still bleeding? I can't just pull up the sleeve because it would expose both my fresh and old cuts nor can I keep it down since it's now blood stained.

Feeling the tight feeling in my throat return I panic as I decide to quickly undress. 'Don't come in I'm changing!'

Taking off my clothes I throw them in the laundry basket before grabbing a towel from the rack. Wrapping it all the way around me so that the only skin that's exposed is my neck, face, and feet. I open the door.

'Sorry I was just about to shower!' I say frantically.

'Oh! Sorry,' he look away flustered. 'Do you want me to wait in your room?'

Thinking about the fact that the remainings of a broken sharpener and bandages are on my bed I shake my head so fast that I worry that my neck will snap.

'No! I have...girl toiletries...in my room so just wait in the living room okay?' I respond hastily so he just embarrassingly nods. I don't feel good lying to him but I'd feel even worse if he asked what the stuff was.

Quickly shutting the door I listen as his footsteps vanish down the hall. Not wasting any time. I wet my hair under the tap because I need to look like I showered if he asks what I was doing without clothes on the first place. Stepping out the bathroom I rush down the hall to my room. Shutting the door I lock it before quickly bandaging all the way up my upper right arm. I'm left handed so it makes it ten times easier. The fact that I'm left handed is also the reason why I cut my right arm.

It's easier.

Tying the bandage, I'm quick to grab a random shirt from my closet as well as long pants. My upper thighs aren't nearly as bad as my arm but they're still noticeable if you stare for too long. Promising myself not to cut anymore this is becoming a hassle. I miss being able to wear whatever I want. Not like I didn't have any cuts but they where in places which where harder to notice since they where more covered. Like my hips for example since they can pass as stretch marks so they aren't questioned.

Quickly pulling my pants on I hear a knock at the door. 'I can hear you fumbling around,'

Picking up the broken sharpener I throw it in the trash can behind my door before putting my bandages under folded clothes in my closet. Opening the door I see his eyes drift to my arm but I don't give him any time to question it by changing the topic.

'You need to start texting me if you're going to come around,' I poke at him before flicking my hair over my shoulder so I can braid it since it's semi wet. I kind of want it to be curly when it dries. I've realized I like it better than having it dead straight which is how it usually is.

'Your arm? What happened?' He ignores my previous comment.

'It's fine it's not that big of a-,' he touches my arm so I instinctively flinch. Pulling my arm away so he doesn't do it again he frowns. Not because I pulled away but because of what I assume is concern.

'Are you okay?'

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck. Feeling the tight feeling return in a bullet train it certainly doesn't come slowly this time. It hits me like a fucking brick. Hard. It hits me hard. No one has ever noticed since it's never been this bad. No one has ever asked about it either.

Especially when asking if I was okay. Having shit friends and parents and siblings which wouldn't notice if you vanished for a week really does that to you.

Reaching for my arm again I pull it away from him harder than I had intended he immediately notices. 'Lilah? Are you okay?'

Looking up at him I open my mouth to say no but not even air comes out. Shaking my wrists I begin to take deep breaths through my mouth so I don't cry.

'Um... actually I'm not doing so good today so can you come over tomorrow maybe?' My voice croaks.

'Hey hey hey,' he begins to grow more and more concerned. 'What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong okay?'

Beginning to cry I make an attempt to mask it but he's already seen the tears coming from my face so there's no real reason to. Placing his hands on my shoulders he undoes my braid so he can run his fingers across my scalp. Relaxing at his fingers on my head I still can't help but cry.

'Want to tell me what happened? Or is it because of hormones?' He says in a soft voice so I just shake my head. I don't want to tell him what I did. Not verbally at least. 'Is your arm alright?'

Shaking my head again he continues to rub my scalp which is weirdly soothing. It feels really nice also except it makes me feel like a child being comforted by their mother. Not that I care anyways, I'm not in the mood to give a fuck right now. I'm actually not in the mood to do anything right now. If anything I'm weirdly exhausted so I lean my forehead into Alex's chest.

'Is it...is it okay if I check your arm at least? You're bleeding quite a bit,' he points out so I look at my art to realize that he's not wrong. I am bleeding a fucking lot.

Brushing it off I lean back into Alex's chest. 'Alex I'm a little tired.'

'Let me check you arm,' his voice grows wearily. 'I think you're bleeding way too much.'

'I'm fine...' I mumble.

I don't remember much after that.