Red

Chapter 4

Nate

Clarissa looked so peaceful when she was asleep. I noticed this earlier when Mike and I brought her to her bed. As I watched her, I began to think about my dad. How was I going to explain not coming home? He didn't know I had a girlfriend. I winced at thought of what he would do to me or her if he found out.

My dad had...issues. He was drunk more often than not and had a habit of taking out his frustration and anger on me. I've been punched, kicked and hit by him before. He also had a time I had to come home by. If I didn't come home by then...

I also had a little problem of my own. I self-harmed. Every night before bed I would make three little cuts along both my arms. It's the reason I always wear long-sleeves, even in summer. I had so many scars from this habit of mine that I couldn't even count them. I've been doing it for years.

My skin itched now, and I fidgeted a little in the bed. Clarissa made a soft little noise and I froze, not wanting to wake her.

I slowly crawled out of the bed and just stood there, deciding what to do. The itch just grew more, and more, till it was dancing along my skin in pins and needles. I took a deep breath. Mike shouldn't be home for a while, right?

Making up my mind, I made my way to the kitchen. I pulled up my sleeves and grabbed one of the larger kitchen knives from the drawer. I made the first cut along my upper arm and I sighed with relief. The itch subsided.

I made the next two cuts in quick succession. I changed hands with the knife and made the next two cuts along my other arm. As I was making the last, I heard the front door open and shut. I froze, rooted to the spot.

Mike entered my line of sight, standing in the kitchen entrance way. He struggled with the crutches and bags he was carrying, when the crutches just dropped, making a loud THUD against the floor. He cursed, and started to make his way to the kitchen counter, most likely to set down his bags, when he looked up. He froze. I didn't move a muscle.

We just stood there staring at each other, me with a knife and blood running down my arms, and him with a shocked expression. Mike unfroze first.

"Um, uh, um, Nate? Wh-what are you doing there? How long–"

"Shhhh," I said, finally able to move again, "You'll wake Clarissa, if you haven't already."

That shut him up, but only for a few seconds. He crept closer to me and set his bags on the counter. "Why are you doing, well..." He nodded to my arms.

I sighed. "I've been doing it for years. If we were in the light, you'd see all the scars."

The shock was gradually draining from his features as he said, "That still doesn't answer my question."

"I'll tell you later, maybe in the morning if Clarissa isn't awake. But if she is, please don't tell her. I don't want her to worry about me."

"Al-alright." He took a deep breath. "So, do you mind putting the knife away? It's making me nervous."

"Sure." I made my last cut, noticing how Mike's eyes widened, cleaned off the knife in the sink, and put it back in drawer. I grabbed a paper towel and cleaned off my arms before rolling down my sleeves and facing Mike. "So, what's in the bags?"

Mike swallowed hard before answering. "Medical stuff I picked up at the drug store. Gauze, bandages, Ibuprofen. Lots of Ibuprofen. I also picked some snacks as well. Those are still in the car."

I nodded. "Oh, wait. I wanted to ask you something."

He shrugged, finally setting the bags on the counter. "Shoot."

"Why didn't Clarissa let me take her to the hospital?"

He smiled slightly. "She hates them. Complains that they smell like death and sickness. She'll avoid them at all cost, even when she's seriously injured."

"But that doesn't make any sense. The smell like they're constantly being sterilized, which they are."

"Exactly."

I nodded again, very confused. "Well, goodnight, Mike. I'm really tired, so I'll see you in the morning." I made to brush past him, but he stopped me. We looked at each other.

"She deserves to know; you realize that?" He gestured to my arms.

I sighed. "I know; I'm just not ready. I've kept my home life a secret for so long..." I shook my head. "I'll see you in the morning." This time, he didn't stop me from heading down the hall and back to Clarissa's bedroom. She was still asleep, her frizzy black hair splayed across the pillow and her eyes closed, keeping her almond colored eyes from view. I crawled back in next to her, careful not to disturber her, and thought about my confrontation with her brother. I will tell him, I decided, falling asleep. I will tell him about my father.