Cold-hearted love

16. Sage

Classes. Classes. Classes.

Working to distracting myself is what I've been doing all day. That drinking, plus smoking in the bathrooms frantically like a crazy person. In all the commotion the last few days, I've forgotton what today was going to be.

It's four in the afternoon, classes are done. And I know I can't stop the inevitable from happening. I had Everett do the stiches again after I messed up this morning. 

Which by the way makes for a very awkward morning, a distraction he has no idea I'm thankful for. In retrospect, I should've asked Elliot, but we all know he can't do stiches if his life depended on it. His stiches always look messed up and that would've been an even better distraction.

The gunshot wound is almost completely healed. My wrist is not. I don't mind it much, besides it slowing me down. 

 These wounds don't hurt me like it should, then again nothing else does, no matter how much I wish it did, I should thank my mother for that. She never realized there was nothing she could do to damage me after what's been done. 

I've practically barracked myself in my dorm and drank bottles filled with liquor. Desperately trying to keep the memories at bay, I sat by my bed, opened a window and took out a cigarette. I drank and smoke and repeated the cycle until my I started coughing up vomit mixed with a bit of blood in a fit.

My skin is red and raw. I claw and scratch myself as if I can tear my vary skin from my own body. Blood is under my nails and arms and I shake uncontrollably, breathing labored, I think my world is spinning.

"Sage, open up. I haven't gotten the chance to talk to you all day". Elliot knocked. I was a mess. Hair in a messy bun, black oversized sweater and a black V-neck top, jeans, the smell of smoke and rum following me. Vomit covered the bathroom and bedroom floor, my eyes I assume are bloodshot and red from all the things I put inside me.

"Don't come in", I croaked inserting dominance to my voice, hand on my neck trying to breath as my lungs close in on itself. It took everything to keep a steady voice.

Breathing should not be this hard. My world spins and I clutch one of the books lying to foucus.

I will myself not to shake. Weakness will not be tolerated, even alone.

"Why not?" he says curiously, voice clear even through the door.

I can't fucking deal with this right now. Can't deal with it today. Not the questioning looks or any of it.

He can't fix me, what good would it do to show him? Elliot's not even qualified to fix himself.

My breathing is so labored it sounds harsh to my own ears. I keep it reigned in. The world around me starts to get blurry, but I stand my ground until it comes into focus.

"Because. . .I said so. Now get lost", I croak. He knows better than to persist. He's like this too sometimes. Some demons that can't be fought are better to deal with alone.

"Rude but fine", I heard him mutter. I was but he didn't mind that. And Ironically he was the person I was nicest to in the world. 

It was better this way. 

Every time I care for someone they get hurt and I get attached even though I know it's always going to end bad because they're lives are as horrible as mine. And. . .I can't do that to him. 

I couldn't afford to be vulnerable or make mistakes, even if it is the one day of the year I should be aloud to. A Levine can't afford to make mistakes. So they don't.

Every time someone knows about my world they end up. . .

Every time I'm anything but perfect. . .

Every time I make a mistake. . .