I Think I Just Legalized Love

Chapter 8

8

I sit on the edge of my bed. You never stop; that’s something I read on the Internet. You never ever stop. Even when the pain is gone, the blood will never stop flowing out of you. I let tears run down my cheeks as the blade in my hand shakes because of me being nervous. I don’t want this, I honestly don’t. Sometimes, though, another thing I saw online, it’s the only answer you can muster, the only thing to do, the addiction attracts you. I feel a stinging sensation where the blade was, and see blood run down my arm. I hold my upper arm, just below my shoulder, and walk quickly to the bathroom. I stop the bleeding quickly, and put my shirt back on, hoping it still covers my other scars too.

            “Jason!” I hear Mom call. “Miles is still waiting!”

            “I know!” I say back. “Give me another minute!”

            I go back to my room, grab my phone and keys, and pick up my backpack. I walk down the stairs into the kitchen and see Miles by the door. “I brought your stuff to our car for you,” he says. I nod and mumble a thank you. I turn and hug Mom and Dad and then leave out the door with Miles. “Excited?” Miles says.

            “Yeah,” I say, but quietly.

            “What’s wrong? We’re going to D.C.”

            “Yeah. I don’t know.”

            Miles stops me and raises an eyebrow. After a few seconds he just lets me get in the car. I sit on the right window side, Miles in the middle, Abby on the left, and their parents in the front. “Should only take four hours,” Rochelle says.

            “Only four hours,” Abby says with a laugh.

Two hours into the drive we stop for lunch at this pizza place. We all share a pineapple pizza. Rochelle, Erik, Miles, and Abby tell me we won’t be protesting until a week into checking into the hotel. They said we could make the signs sometimes then.

            We pay and head back to the car. For the rest of the way to D.C. people just sleep, except for Erik, Miles’s and Abby’s dad, since he’s driving. I don’t sleep though. I listen to Panic! at the Disco, Sleeping with Sirens, etc. I listen to a few Bruno Mars but just a few. I play temple run, but it gets boring.

            Suddenly we arrive at a Hampton hotel and check in. The bellhop takes our luggage, and we follow him to our room. There’s three beds, a nice TV, cool bathroom – as cool as they would ever get anyway – and a mini-kitchen thing – microwave, mini fridge, and counter.

            “So we thought that,” Erik says, “Rochelle and I would have a bed, Abby would have a bed, and you and Miles would have a bed.” I nod.

            We all get ready for the night, and take showers. I take one last. After, as I’m putting on my shorts I realize how noticeable my scars are on my shoulder. It’s too hot, even in this hotel room, to wear a shirt. I stand there staring at myself in the long mirror wondering what to do. I don’t know how to hide this. I notice how scabby they are, so I pick at them. I pick at all of them, until it’s just light pinkish lines. It’s less noticeable but it’s not invisible. I just decide to walk out and get right in the bed. I pull the covers over me, my right arm above them. I hold the edge of the pillow and stare at the dark wall. Someone turns off the lights and then I feel the bed bounce a little – Miles. I feel him poke me so I turn around.

            “Everyone’s asleep,” he whispers. “You can tell me what’s on your shoulder.”

            I stare at him through the darkness and sigh. “You know what they are, Miles. I know you’re not stupid.”