Cutting Edge

Chapter Five: Saige

        It’s a miracle! Drew came out of his coma. He even started moving and talking!

        Just as I was about to walk out of the room because Tegan showed up, Drew started speaking. As soon as he said my name, the nurse told us that we had enough communications for the day. That’s when his parents arrived.

        I wanted to stay with Drew forever after he called my name, but then Brian texted me again.

        Brian:  Babe, are u still busy or can u hang out for a little?

        Me:  On my way

        I guess…that’s what it should say, but if I don’t want him to know about how much I’m hurting right now, then I shouldn’t avoid him.

        As I step into my car, my phone rings. It’s Dad. Great…not.

        “Hey Dad…” I trail off.

        “Hey cupcake,” he replies a little too cheerfully. He doesn’t know about Drew either, not that he would know who Drew even was. “Can you swing by my office later? I got you something today, but I probably won’t be home until late and I was hoping to get it to you today.”

        “I’m heading out right now Dad. I’ll be over in about 20 minutes.”

        “Sounds good, honey. Bye-bye.”

        “Bye…”

        So much for I love you…

        I make a quick stop at home before heading out to Dad’s office. I know that everything seems like its going to be fine now that Drew is out of his coma, but I still loved the feeling cutting gave me, and it’s not like I don’t still have plenty of reasons to cut. Speak of the devil…

        Brian:  Babe, where r u?

        Me:  Dad called. I have to run out to his office really quick. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

        Brian:  Promise? U seem to be holding out on me lately

        Me:  Sorry just had some shit going on in my life right now

        Brian: Like wat?

        Me:  I’ll tell you about it when I get over to your place, ok?

        Brian:  Hurry

        I can’t really tell Brian what’s going on. Maybe Dad’s thing will make a good cover story. And look, there’s another devil in my life.

        I think before I leave I should take another stab at it. Get it? Stab at it? As in cutting?

        I walk into my bathroom with the still sharp as new razor lying in the shelf, calling out my name. I ever so slowly swipe the blades across my arm in the same place as before, applying a bit more pressure than last time and watch as the blood starts to ooze from my arm.