Regrets

Chapter Two

I lay in bed, unsure of how I got here and unsure of what time it is. I don't want to open my eyes. I don't want to face the world. The cruel, cruel world. Not without him, but even with him I don't want to. He makes me want to die. Correction: I just want to die. I guess I just find people to blame my suicidal thoughts on when I can't bring myself to put another thing on my shoulders. Even dropping a pen on the floor makes me want to die sometimes.

"Taylor, are you okay in there? You've been in your room awhile and the door won't open." Elaine yell-whispers through the door.

My eyes shoot open. It's dark. It's always dark in my room, I have the windows covered with blankets so thick they could keep people in Antarctica warm. I know the door is locked. That's something I do remember.

I check my iPod. Three new KIK messages. Jolie, some girl from Facebook, and my mom. Nothing from him. I tap on our messages and re-read them once more. Tears burn my eyes by the time I reach where we started arguing. I don't even care about what he's said to me. I just care about how close we used to be, and how we ended up all the way in hell.

"Taylor, I know you're in there!" Elaine sounds pissed now.

"Just go away, I'm fine." I snap, and I hear distant footsteps and a door slam.

I finally bring myself to check the time. It's only ten at night. He's probably still awake. He's probably talking to her.

I tap on the message box and start typing: What the fuck happened to us?

I hesitate. I hold my breath. I lay back down. But I don't send it. I can't bring myself to. What if he actually replies? What if he doesn't want me in his life anymore? What if he meant everything he said to me? What if I really do mean nothing to him? I start to delete it, but then stop myself. I re-type what I erased and hit send. I lock my iPod and throw it across my bed, not even looking at it. I feel sick at the thought of him actually replying.

Then it makes a noise.

My stomach flips.

My heart beats faster.

My eyes tears up.

I slowly reach for my iPod. I read the screen. It's him. In big letters it says: New KIK message! From: Colton.

I unlock it, type in my passcode, and read the message.

Colton: I don't know. You tell me.

I just stare at it for a second. I can't bring myself to reply. I'm still in shock that he even replied to me. I slowly start typing: We lost it. We had it all, and then we lost it. And now we're back at the beginning. I don't even think I can say that. We're nothing. And I hit send.

Not even two minutes pass and he's already typing again. I'm already kicking myself in the ass for messaging him. This will only make everything worse. We're just going to get into another fight and I'm going to end up cutting, crying, binging, purging, cutting, and sleeping.

Colton: Then why did you message me?

Why did I message him? Why did I message him?

Because I miss him, and that's exactly what I type: I miss you and I hit send.

He reads it. One minute goes by. Oh god, why did I say that? He obviously doesn't miss me. He's probably happy I'm gone. Now he doesn't have to deal with me. I'm just worthless. I hate myself. Two minutes go by. Why isn't he responding? Why did I say that? Why can't I just forget about him like he forgets about me every time we fight? Why can't I just fucking move on?! Three minutes go by.

He's typing.

Colton: It's only been a day, Taylor.

It's only been a day. It's only been a day, and I'm already dying without him. . . I think there's a word for that but I don't dare use it. There's no way I feel that way about him. He was only my best friend. Nothing more than a friend. Besides, how could I feel that way about someone who doesn't feel the same way back? I don't even need to ask if he does because I know he doesn't, no one could ever love me. A girl with scars filtering every single centimeter of her skin. From my arms -shoulders to wrists-, to my legs -thighs to ankles-. Even my stomach is littered in them.

I'm such a failure.

I re-read the message again. I know, Colton, but I miss you. I really fucking miss you. and I can't live without you. No. Too. . . cliché. I delete it. Yeah... I send this one, and then I wait.

I'm way too worried. About what exactly? Him leaving me? Already done, multiple times. Him hating me? He already does, has for weeks. Him loving her? He already does, has for years. Then it hits me. I'm afraid of him telling everyone everything. This thought controls my actions for me, without thinking I start typing: Just please don't tell people about. . . me. I know this isn't high school anymore, but there are still people I'd like to see some time. And I send it. Without thinking. What if that just pisses him off? Shit, shit, shit. What have I done?

Colton: Who do I have to tell? I don't talk to anyone from school. The only person I have to tell is your brother.

Me: Exactly, my brother. Who will then go to my mom. I don't need her worrying and thinking I need to move back in with her. I like being alone. Just please don't mention anything to him.

Another five minutes go by before I get a reply.

Colton: Fine. Are we done here?

I don't want to say yes. I don't want him to leave. I don't want him to stop talking to me. I want to stay right here. I just want to talk to him. I want to tell him what a mess I am without him. I want to tell him how I feel about him. My fingers have a different idea: Yes.

No! No, no, no, no, no! I was not done there. I didn't want to fucking stop, don't you ever listen to me, you stupid head?! As if I'm going insane, I hear a faint reply, "No because every time I do, someone gets hurt."

It's true. Someone does get hurt every time I do what I want to do. Every time I cut and someone finds out, someone gets hurt. Every time I tell someone "I love you" someone gets hurt. Every time I walk into a room, someone gets hurt. I'm just a big fucking failure. Who hurts people and is dramatic. I hate myself, I hate myself. I hate myself.

A/N thanks for reading! xx keep holding on.