Paving Roads

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Katherine Spenters' And Phillip Spenters' Point Of View

I wake up in my bed back home. Hesitantly, I sit up and open my eyes, regretting it as soon as I do. I feel like my head is splitting in two, and I have to keep myself from throwing up a nights worth of chips and beer right then and there.

I grab onto my bed post, steadying myself.

''hoooly shit.''

''I bet daddy would be real proud to hear your language.''

I jump at the sound of a second voice in my bedroom.

''Then again, there's lots of stuff daddy wouldn't be too happy to find out about.''

''What do you want, Phillip?'' I ask angrily.

''Do you know someone named Adam? I hear your boyfriend would love to meet him.''

''My relationship doesn't concern you.''

''You know what really amazes me? The fact that you knew Thomas was at that party, and not even that stopped you from being a slut.''

I grab my pillow and throw it across the room at him.

''Don't call me that!'' I scream

He knows I hate that... he knows how much it hurts

''If you'd keep your legs shut for one damn day, no one would have any reason to.''

I feel tears start to fall from my eyes, and I hurriedly swipe them away before he sees them.

''What happened to you, Phillip?'' I say sadly

''I could ask you the same thing.'' He replies, a very obvious coolness in his voice.

I dig my nails into my hands to keep myself from crying.

''Why are you doing this?'' I plea. ''You're my brother.''

He stands up and heads towards the door.

''You're right, I am.'' He says softly, and for a second I think he's going to apologize.

''But that doesn't mean I'm your friend.'' He finishes, then slams the door behind him.

I can't keep the tears in any longer. I bury my face in my hands and let them fall freely, over and over in rapid succession.

I want to cry out, to scream at the top of my lungs until I'm out of breath. But I know I can't. Not with my dad downstairs.

If he knew something was wrong with me, it would kill him. And the thought of that hurts more than fighting back my screams.

I climb off my bed, crouch down, and reach my arm far under it. I feel around until my hand hits the small wooden box I hid under there months back. I drag it out and place it on my lap.

Inside lies two perfectly sharp razors. Never used, never touched; kept hidden away just in case.

I carefully take one of them out and hold it between my fingertips, debating whether or not to use it.

Just do it. It might help. And if it doesn't, you'll deserve the pain anyway.

I press the cool, sharp metal against my wrist, take a deep breath, and quickly pull it across.

''Kat! I'm coming up!''

I throw the razor along with the box back under my bed and pull my sleeve down as I hear Cherry's footsteps pound up the stairs. I sit back on my bed and grab a book off my bedside table, pretending to read as she bursts through the door and jumps onto my bed in one fluid motion.