I'm So Sorry

Chapter Seven

Shannon

Tossing the last of the trash that had littered the table, I wipe my hands together and grab the trash bag. I go inside and toss it into the can, then make my way to the sink to wash my hands. I turn on the faucet and water begins to pour out of it.

I mindlessly start washing my hands, humming a tune to myself, reaching over for the soap. I pump it out and start scrubbing my hands together to rid of the germs.

"Pay attention," a voice whispers.

I snap my head up and look around. No one is there, which confuses me. Did I just imagine that?

"Over here, genius," the voice says again. I turn back to the sink and look up at the window, where I can still barely make out my friends at the other end of the yard. My reflection even shines through, and I look at it, a sullen expression paint on my face.

"Now listen," The reflection speaks, causing me to scream out loud.

"What's the matter?" My reflection chuckles maniacally. "Miss me?"

"Leave me alone," I sputter, holding my heart to my chest. "I'm not going to do this right now."

"Why not?" The reflection questions. "You can't get rid of me, Shannon. I know how hard you try, and I know how much you think you're in control. But in reality, you're nothing. You can't do a thing about me. Those people out there?" My reflection gestures with her head to my friends sitting around the dead fire pit. "They aren't your friends."

"You're not real, these thoughts aren't real, and you're not going to get to me," I say, covering my ears. "You're not real, these thoughts aren't real, and you're not going to get to me," I repeat.

"The problem with your flawless plan--" The voice interrupts my chanting. "Is that I'm inside your head. You're not getting rid of me, you'll never get rid of me. I'm here to stay. Because you know that deep down, you love it that I'm here. You love that I'm in your head, and you love that I'm the only person who tells you the truth. And deep down, you know none of them care about you, the same way that I do."

"You're nothing but a memory, but a ghost, haunting me. You're not my friend. You're my enemy."

"Who is the real enemy here?" The voice grows louder and closer to me now. "It's not me. I've done nothing but be there for you this whole time. But those people? Shannon, they hate you. Olivia especially. They're not here because they are your friends. They're here because they're afraid of you."

"Why would they be afraid of me?" I whisper, picking up my head to look around, my reflection no longer visible in the window.

There's no answer to my question, the entire kitchen going dead silent as I look around, as I lower my hands from my face. I slowly look around, looking for my reflection, looking for my answers.

Why would they be afraid of me? What is there to be afraid of? I care about everyone that is out there, I've tried to be there for each and every single one of them. I've been the best leader--no, I've been the best friend that I can possibly be. There's no way any of them are afraid of me. There's no reason for any of them to be afraid of me. Especially Randy. My own brother can't fear me, especially because he's older. No, they don't hate me.

"One of them knows your secrets, Shannon."

I whirl my head around for the source of the voice, and once again am met with nothing.

"STOP HIDING!" I shout. "COME OUT NOW!"

"You have to protect your secrets, Shannon. Or they're really going to leave you. You have to show them that you can't be messed with. Or they're going to know everything. One of them knows your secrets. You have to figure it out. They're going to tell everyone tonight. They're going to reveal everything. Show them that you're not to be messed with, Shannon."

I nod my head, taking some deep breaths. No one is going to learn my secrets. No one is going to pull the rug out from under me.

"Shannon?"

I turn my head slightly to the left and notice Jessie standing in my kitchen, looking small, fragile, and about ready to cry. Or just finished crying?

"Are you okay?" She asks me, taking a step forward. "I'm sorry that I was in the bathroom for so long, I didn't mean to be in there forever, I just heard you and..." she trails off.

She heard me, she heard everything. That means she heard the voice, too! That means I'm not crazy, because she heard me and the voice.

"Shannon?" Jessie repeats my name. "Were you on the phone with someone? You sounded like you were in an argument, is everything okay?"

My heart sinks at Jessie's words and I immediately reach back to touch the counter for support to lean on.

I let out a slightly shuttering breath and force a smile to my face for Jessie. "Yeah. I was on the phone with...my cousin. She was asking me about a show..." I don't know what else to say to her other than that.

"Okay. Umm," Jessie sniffs and wipes at her face. "Where uhh, where's everyone else?"

I gesture with my head to outside. "They went to the fire pit. Would you ask Randy to start it for me, and I'll be right out?"

Jessie puts on a smile. "Sure. You coming?"

I nod to her. "Yeah, I just have to finish cleaning and talk to my mom, I'll be out in two minutes."

"Okay, we'll see you out there," she tells me, turning towards the door.

I let out a small breath of air, then say, "Jess? Why were you in the bathroom for so long. You know, if you don't mind me asking?"

Her hand freezes over the door handle and for a second I think that I just overstepped my boundaries. Jessie doesn't move for a moment, and I'm about the apologize to her when she says without looking at me, "Food poisoning."

She then opens the door and closes it behind her, but I can tell she was trying extremely hard not to slam it.

She's lying to me.

She's afraid of me.

The voice in my head was right.

I feel shivers overtake me and I back up a bit, leaning more on the counter before I immediately turn my head to the knives on the counter, stacked in the holster.

One knife. One swish. One moment.

I shake more profusely and shake my head and turn away from the knives, tears now on my face as I try to move forward. But the lightheadedness is overtaking me quicker than usual and I lean against the island counter in my kitchen and I start slamming my fists down, feeling the panic attack go through me with so much vigor and pain that I cry hard into my hands when I'm done punching the counter.

It's been almost two years since I've cut myself. And now more than ever I need that relief.

A/N: Sorry for the small leave of absence guys. College is extremely busy! Hoping to continue writing for you more frequently. Also, I'm an ambassador on Wattpad now, so that takes place over writing, which is what I've been doing when I come on Wattpad now. Sorry kids, but I still love all of you <3 Hope everything is going well for all of you! ~Nickey