If Only...

Chapter 15: Lost Time

8 days.

Since I've noticed the scar on Louis's cheek.

Since he's looked my way.

Since normality.

8 days.

Since Drew had returned to uni.

Since she's said hello.

Since normality.

I've stayed in Riley's dorm since Drew came back and refused to speak to me.

Each day feels like I'm walking on thin ice.

Now here I am, in Riley's bathroom with Riley's sharp best friend.

His edge reflects off the dimly lit lightbulbs but I had shut the curtain to block the suns light.

The tiny rectangle with a triangular tip shines as I turn it over and over in the palm of my hand.

"For Dad's broken heart," I whisper as my grip tightens on the blade already making cuts in my palm.

The emotion is building up inside me. I can feel it taking over every cell of my body, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, stretching out to my fingertips. Every pore of my body is alive with it. I want it gone. I cannot stand it. I need it gone!

Placing the blade against my skin I apply great pressure to the blunt base. Pain erupts through me but my feelings are too strong, I can still feel it.

Dragging the blade along my skin, a red line appears and quickly blood begins to ooze out of the cut, and with it the pain begins to ooze out of my body.

I heard the raw fresh crack of flesh as I broke through skin and stared hopelessly at the blood.

"For my broken heart," I muttered under my breath, my voice shaking as I began to feel the faintness of lost blood.

I dove into another bite of the blade.

Perfect lines crossed my wrists, not near any crucial veins, but enough to leave wet red tracks across my skin.

I felt like a balloon dancing in the blue sky through endless time.

The raging pain told me I was still alive.

I blinked rapidly and realized I was crying.

Crying because I swore I wouldn't do this again. Crying because the cuts high were gone and now I'm back to feeling the same way again.

Crying because nothing has changed except the fresh scars that peak from my wrist.

Tears filled the sink as I washed the stains away. I watched as the colours aloof from red to pink wishing it were only that easy.

I exit without a trace of my act and curl up into my bed running over the scars with my fingertips and wincing at the soreness.

Cutting is my distraction from reality.

When people leave, this razor stays.

It'll never leave me.

It is always waiting.

-------------------------------------------

The next morning I woke up light headed. It's Saturday which means no classes.

I pulled over a gray long sleeve and black shorts and tucked at the sleeves tingling with insecurity of last nights mutilation.

Drew and I pass each other without so much as a first glance. It wasn't like we hated each other or snuck dirty looks.