Broken

Chapter 27 (Claire)

I didn't want to leave the room all night, even if I didn't sleep. I just laid there, my mind going over what happened when I got home, even if I didn't want to.

I got out of the car and went to the front door. I was happy when I didn't see Emily's car in the driveway. I thought maybe my brother and I could have a normal night with just my brother. Maybe watch some TV.

Then I opened the door and I realized that was going to be impossible. My mom leaned on the table, drinking a beer. My dad was on the couch. My brother sitting at the kitchen table, his hair was a mess, as if he had been running his hands through it all night, which he probably had.

"Hey Claire," Dylan said miserably. My mom looks at me and my heart sinks. Oh God. "I told them about Blake."

"You what?" I'm dead for sure now. I knew that as soon as my mom started walking toward me. I tried to back up, only to back into the door. "Did you tell them about Emily too? Did you Dylan?"

Before he could answer, my mom is right in front of me. She raises her hand and I scream, trying to put my arms up in front of my face, and I catch a glimpse of Dylan jumping out of his chair. But we're both too slow. My mom's hand connects with my face with a loud crack, and I can vaguely hear my brother yelling over my own screams.

"You are a disappointment Claire. I hoped better for you, which was foolish, and now you've disappointed the whole family!" My mom shouts at me and her hand connects with my cheek again in the same place as before. Pain shoots through my face, and my brother grabs my mom's arms, pinning them behind her back.

"Run Claire. Go now," he yells and I open the door, and run out to my car.

That's where I texted Blake and that's why I'm here, at his house now. I'm glad I kicked him out of my car when I did, or else it would have been a million times worse for us both.

But what no one knew was that I had my razor with me. I had been carving into my arms all night. I was careful not to get the blood on Blake's bed though. I don't know what he would've thought then.

My eyes start to feel heavy and I yawn. I didn't want to go to sleep, but I couldn't help it. It was almost two in the morning, and God Blake's bed was comfortable. I close my eyes and drift off.

***

I wake up six hours later, my hair an absolute mess, but I was glad it was Saturday.

I slipped out of bed and went downstairs to find Blake passed out on the couch. Smiling, I kneel beside the couch and kiss his forehead softly, causing his eyes to flutter open. "Good morning sunshine."

He starts to laugh but then stops. I see he's looking at my cheek, so I flash a reassuring smile. "Claire, it's bruised. Are you okay?"

"Shh. I'm fine Blake. I promise. I'll always be okay." I brush some of the hair off of his forehead and pull my sleeves over my arms.

"You can borrow one of my t-shirts if you want. It's going to be warmer today."

"Uh, no. I'll be fine. Hey, what do you want for breakfast? I'm cooking."

"Uh, how about eggs and bacon?"

"Perfect. Come in when you're ready." I stand up and go to the kitchen, turning on the stove and start to make the bacon. After a minute or so, I put a pan on the oven and crack the egg. "Hope you're okay with them scrambled!"

"They're my favorite!"

I begin to scramble the eggs, but the microwave dings, so I take the bacon out. Only, I wasn't expecting the bacon grease to slosh over the side of the bacon cooking tray and onto my hand. I nearly drop it, and I yelp at the hotness. Definitely going to be a burn.

"You okay Claire?"

"Fine! I'm fine!" I yank up my sleeves and turn on the sink after pulling the eggs off the stove. I won't let them burn too. Then, I stick my hand under the cool water.

"What did you do? Was it the egg or the bacon that fought back? And make sure the water isn't-"

"Isn't what? Too cold? I know."

When I look up, Blake is beside me, but he isn't looking at the burn on my hand. No, his eyes are trained on my arm. "Claire, when did you-"

"Oh God, you weren't supposed to see those." I yank my hands from the water and pull my sleeves back down. "I did it last night, okay?"

"Here?"

"Yes. I didn't get blood on anything, I promise."

"Dammit. I could've stopped you. But I'm too fucking dumb!" He sits at the table and lets his head fall into his hands. "If I stayed with you, you wouldn't have those Claire!"

"I chose to do it. It isn't your fault Blake." I sit down across from him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Why," he mumbles through his fingers.

"What?"

"Why hurt yourself? Why slash at your wrists? You're beautiful. Perfect. You don't have to do this to youself. Because Claire, it doesn't make you better."

It's a lie. You're ugly. Horrible. Worthless. My mind just won't shut up. I want to believe Blake, but I don't want to believe lies. "You don't mean it," I whisper softly. "I do it so I can feel numb. So I can watch the blood come up out of my arm. It calms me Blake."

"I'm not lying Claire. You're perfect to me. There's no need to hurt yourself though." I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off. "Okay, next time you want to do that, you take that damn razor and cut my wrist. Slice away."

What the hell? Is he nuts? "No Blake, I'd never hurt you."

He puts his elbows on the table and leans close to me, his face inches from mine. "Claire, every time you do that to yourself, it hurts me. It hurts me more that the blades hurt you."

Oh God. No way. That cannot be true. "It shouldn't hurt you."

"To see the girl I love tear herself up? It hurts me more than anything Claire." And then he kisses me. His lips soft against mine. His fingers soon slide into my hair. "Please don't do it again Claire. I live you too much to lose you."

"I won't do it if you stay and help me."

"I'll stay. I'll do whatever it takes. I'm not going to let you do that anymore. Deal?"

I nod and smile softly. "Deal."

"Alright, now that that's settled, let's eat!"