Leave Your Mark

Scars (TW)

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions and implications of self-harm

Scars.
All over me.
Arms.
Legs.
Chest.
Stomach.
Everywhere.
I don't cause them.
They just appear.
Every morning when I wake up, there are more.
And I can't stop it.
My soulmate is self harming.
And I'm just here, in my house, helpless.
I don't know what to do.

I walk to my locker, wearing long sleeves a bit too early in the year, considering that it's the first day of September. I've gotten used to people staring. At this point the only thing I can do is cover myself up and hope no one suspects. I can't stop my soulmate from doing this. In this last week there have been more cuts than ever.

Just when I think I'm the only one in the whole building besides the custodians who unlock the doors, I hear a friendly voice.

"Hey, Cameron," calls my best friend, Liam. He swaggers up to me, trademark oversized hoodie hanging almost down to his knees; his family isn't the wealthiest in our school, so he wears hand-me-downs from his big brother, who is double his height and nearly triple his weight. "What's up, man?"

"Nothing," I lie. "How about you?"

"My mum threw a back to school party last Saturday for the families on my street. I guess it's cool because we get free school supplies. Each person has to RSVP saying what they were gonna bring. We had the pens and pencils, the Callaghan's brought glue sticks and tape, the O'Connor's brought notebooks, the Lupold's brought rulers and erasers and post-it notes, the Smith's brought scissors and pencil sharpeners..."

Wait. Last Saturday. That's when the cuts started getting worse!

"Lee, who specifically was at that party?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Sam, Dean, Joey, Bryce, Lauren, Sammie, Molly (she's starting kindergarten this year, she's so cute), Jake, and me. All the kids on my street."

"Who took pencil sharpeners?"

"Everyone did, man. That's the point of the party."

"No, no, no." I have to get to the bottom of this!

Then I realise...

"Lee," I say hesitantly, "how come you always wear that hoodie?"

"I don't know, man, I just do." He gets defensive real quick. "This is my favourite hoodie."

"But you wear it all the time. Even in the dead of summer."

"Yeah, so?"

I take a deep breath, then gently grasp his hand. I can feel his pulse quickening in his thumb beneath my fingertips. I start to lift the fabric off his arm, but he yanks back.

"What the hell, Cam?"

"I'm sorry. I just need to see..."

I hold out my hands. Are those tears in his eyes or is my mind playing tricks on me? He places the back of his hand in my upturned palm and lets me gingerly peel back the cloth.

"Lee..."

"I'm sorry, Cam." He sniffs, a tear leaking from his eye.

Mirroring the scars littering my skin, his arm is a maze of crisscrossing tender, swollen, scabbed lines.

I shake my head. "Don't be sorry. I can only imagine the pain you must've been in to do this to yourself. You needn't be sorry, it's not your fault. But why didn't you tell someone?"

"I didn't think I could. I feel so alone, like no one can really understand everything going on in my head."

Well, now that I know we're soulmates I suppose it's now or never. I lean in and tenderly brush my lips against his. He gasps in shock, pulls away, and then kisses me back hungrily.

"Promise me something," I say. He nods as if to say, 'I'd do anything for you.' "Promise me that next time you want to do this to yourself, you'll come and talk to me. I'm not going to ask you to never cut again, because that would be ridiculous and I'd never force you to make a promise you can't keep, and not being able to keep the promise could trigger you. Just talk to me whenever you want to hurt yourself. Okay?"

He nods. "Okay." Then he hugs me and cries a little bit into my shoulder before pulling away and pecking my lips with a cute smile. All in all, it goes well between us from then on.