"I don't know." I said softly. "I don't know if I'm okay." Harry turned off the car, although he had just started it as asking me if I was okay. I looked down, and a tear rolled off my face. Since when was I tearing up? I wiped it away hastily and looked out the window, away from Harry. I felt his warm hand on my leg.
"Jane." He said very softly. It was the kind of voice I'd think someone would use if they were trying to peacefully wake a child from a nap. I froze, still as a stone and didn't turn to face him.
"Jane. Please." This time I could tell there was a hint of desperation in his tone as his voice fell on the word 'please'.
"I need to know you're okay." He said, his voice raising in pitch but lowering in volume. His fingers moved slightly, almost as if he was going to start rubbing my leg in comfort but abruptly stopped. I turned my head slightly in his direction.
"I'm fine, really. It's no big deal." I said, my voice struggling to reach a normal tone. His face turned even more serious and concerned.
"No." He said.
"What?" I questioned, moving slowly so I was fully facing him now.
"Don't ever tell me you're okay if you're not." He stated assertively. "What's wrong?" His voice softened.
"Nothing really, it's stupid anyway." I said, pushing away his caring gestures.
"If it's upsetting you it's not stupid and it's definitely worth talking about." He said, looking into my eyes with a worried expression on his face.
"I just.." I cleared my throat, and he waited patiently for me to continue. "I was thinking about last summer." I said bravely, finally stating what was on my mind.
"What happened last summer?" He asked quietly, genuinely concerned.
"I tried.." Tears started coming down my cheeks without stopping. I crumpled forward and put my face into my hands, disappointed at my weak and emotional state in front of Harry.
"Hey." He placed his hand on my back, rubbing circles encouragingly. "It's okay." I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady myself and slowly sat back up.
"I um." I took one last deep breath. "I tried killing myself." At that moment, all the color drained from Harry's face and his concerned expression turned into a panicked in terror expression. His hand fell from my back and his pale face remained chalky and pasty. His green eyes were wide, and he shifted in his seat, facing the correct driving position and started the car. Without a word, his eyes remaining wide, face pale, he pulled out of the parking lot and began down the road towards my apartment. I sat there; shocked, confused, regretful. A mixing pot of all of the above. I didn't move, and I'm sure my face was just as pale as his, then. When we reached my apartment, Harry's hands were glued to the wheel and his eyes were frozen forward. Instead of trying to say a word in my fragile and confused state, I got out of his car without further explanation to him or questioning for him. I walked towards the doors, and once I reached them, I glanced back. He was already gone. Tears silently fell from my face. It was too soon. I never told people about that. Never. Why did I think that was okay? I walked into my apartment in a weird state. Calm exterior, panicked interior. I set my purse on the floor of the living room, threw my sweatshirt off and entered the small bathroom. I locked the door behind me even though Madyson wasn't even home. I put my hands onto the edges of the sink and leaned on it as I looked at myself in the reflection. There was a pasty girl looking back at me. Her black bangs were splayed across her forehead messily. Her face was shiny with tears and terror. Her eyes had black around them, the eyeliner even thicker due to the crying. I looked down at my forearms. The purple and blue veins were boldly streaming through her arms. They looked foreign against the pasty, pale skin. The girl was running through my veins; trapped inside my body, as well as outside. Red scars were scattered across the girls left forearm and wrist. I looked back into the mirror, disgusted at this girl I was seeing. I didn't want this girl to be here anymore. I wanted her gone. My fist came forward, smashing the small mirror above the sink. Pieces of glass fell freely into the sink. I picked one up slowly, my fingers feeling the rough, sharp edges. I was taunting the girl. And with that, I dragged the piece of glass across my wrist, letting the girl escape from my veins. My head spun; what was I doing? I wasn't freeing the girl, I was letting her win. In disgust I threw the shard of glass into the sink and let my body drop onto the cold tile of the bathroom. I curled up with my knees against my chest and held my wrist to my heart, letting the steady thump of my heartbeat calm me down as tears fell freely from my eyes.
