For All The Wrong Reasons

More scars

I woke up the next morning in Brian's grip. He had his arms around me, and I had mine around him. The room was mostly dark, only lit by the sun seeping in past the shades that covered the windows. I heard my phone ringing on the side stand next to the bed. Brian flinched a little bit before his eyes opened.

"That your phone or mine?" he whispered to me while letting his grip go. For some reason, I liked it when he held me like that.

"It's mine." I whispered back while turning over to answer it.

"Hello" my voice was cracky.

"Grace?! Where the fuck are you!? Are you ok?! " They yelled into the phone. I know that voice from anywhere.

"Zacky, I told you, I'm fine." I replied now sitting up. I had my hood up and the sleeves down.

"You skipped one of my questions." He said in a serious tone.

"Which would be?"

"The first one, where are you?" I sighed and thought about it for a second. I didn't want to tell him where I was, but I also don't want him to worry about me.

"I'm fine Zack. Don't worry about where I am. I'll text you latter ok?"

"Not ok. I can't know that you're safe until I know where you are." God Zacky, why do you do this to me?

"I'm a a friends house."

"Which friend would that be?"

"A close one. I'm perfectly safe here."

"Fine Grace. Just text me latter then." He sounded angry with me.

"I will." I told him before he hung up. I let out a deep breath of frustration. I was looking at the dusty books contemplating weather I wanted to cut or not. Well Brian noticed that I was staring at them because he asked,

"Why are you staring at the books?" His voice kind of confused.

"I was just, sorry I zoned out." I told him.

"Can I look at your wrists again?" He questioned. Well I can't let him see the new slices that I've made.

"No. I don't like them. Please don't look at them anymore." I told him bluntly. He looked shocked that I told him no. I never tell Brian no.

"Sorry." He told me looking away from my sleeves.

"It's fine." I had no emotion in my voice.

I decided to get up and get dressed. I had a few pairs of skinny jeans here. I kept them here because I would often get to drunk to go home, and end up staying the night. I have no shirts though. I went over to his dresser and grabbed a pair of my black skinny jeans.

"I'm going to take a shower ok?" He told me while I went through his closet trying to find a shirt to wear.

"Ok." I said in a casual voice. He'll be in there for about a half our. Now is my chance if I'm going to cut. I looked over at the books and back at the bathroom door. I heard the water running so I know he won't be coming back out anytime soon. Ok, it's safe to grab it. I walked over to the stack of dusty books and grabbed the blade from under one of them. I sat on floor next to the bed so if he did come out, he wouldn't see the blade.

I pulled up my sleeve and looked at all the scars, ready to add more. I put the piece of metal to my arm and started to push down with ease. Once I broke through the skin, I began to slide the blade arcoss my arm making myself bleed. I kept doing this repeatedly not wanting to stop. So I didn't.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?!?" Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He caught me. Great.

"I didn't hear you come out." I said looking at my bloody arm. I had the blade in my hand still. Just as I went to make another cut he yelled for me to stop. I dropped the blade next to me and looked up at him. Tears flooded my eyes. Brian had a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was dripping wet. Kind of like my arms were, but mine was blood, not water. He knelt down next to me and picked up the blade carefully. My eyes followed him while he set it on the stand next to me.