Scarred

Chapter 26

I couldn't believe that I biked to school the next day. I didn't even know that I was going to school until I was riding my bike in the rain.

I arrived at school twenty minutes late, but I didn't care. I walked into homeroom without an explaination to my teacher about why I was late. She can mark me late. I don't care.

After homeroom, I walked into my first period class. I was so excited to see Sam, but he wasn't excited to see me. I sat in my desk and turned towards him. He wouldn't even look at me. He sat looking straight ahead, not even glancing in my direction. My heart sank. I thought that maybe we could work it out today, but I guess I was wrong. If only he would talk to me.

I sat through the lesson, bored without Sam's usual chatter in my ear. I know I never acted like it, but I always loved hearing his strange stories. My depression grew and grew throughout that class, my emotions becoming sadder and sadder. Why won't he talk to me? my thoughts cried out in my head.

***

The silence was killing me.

Sam hadn't spoken a single word to me all day. When I confronted him at his locker, he ignored me the whole time. When I tried to stop him in the hallway, he just walked away. When I tried to talk to him in our seventh period, he turned away from me, as if he couldn't bear the sight of me. I wanted to scream, to cry, to beg for him back, but I knew that none of that would work.

Sam was everything. Sam was my everything. And I lost him. I let him go. I'm so stupid, I thought. How could I let him just walk away?

***

When I arrived at my house, no one was home. That's odd, I thought. But now I can do whatever I want.

I grabbed the pocket knife that I had picked up at a hardware store a few days ago. I went upstairs, into my room, and locked the door behind me. I took out the knife and pulled my sleeve up. It was weird. I hadn't worn long sleeves in a while.

I opened the pocket knife and found a bare spot on my right wrist. I had cut there before, but it didn't scar up. I almost dug the blade into my skin, but then my mind told me to stop. You promised Sam you wouldn't, one part of me said.

Sam is gone! the other part of my brain screamed. I dropped down onto the bed, tears welling up in my eyes. I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, lighting it. I hadn't smoked in a while, since I wasn't allowed to smoke in Lee Anne's house. I puffed some smoke into the air. I pulled out the ash tray I always carried and set the cigarette in the ash tray. I picked up the open pocket knife again.

Pain shot up and down my arm as I pressed the blade into my skin. I cried out in pain. Fortunately, no one was home, so no one could hear me. Suddenly, I heard the front door open and shut. I dug the blade into a line right next to the first bleeding cut. I repeated this a third and a fourth time.

When I stopped digging the blade into my skin, I searched for a towel. There wasn't one anywhere in my room. I tried to turn the door handle to find a towel, but the door wouldn't budge. Blood dripped down my arm. I struggled to open the door, without success. Adrenaline rushed through my veins. Blood was gushing out of my arm and I couldn't get out of my room to stop it. I pushed against the door again, banging and screaming. Someone had to be downstairs. I looked at the lock, and saw that it was jammed. Shit. Whoever's down there won't be able to open the door either.

"Quinn?" I heard Lee Anne say. My head started to spin from the blood loss. "Are you locked in?"

"Yes!" I shouted. I heard Lee Anne's footsteps come up the stairs. She tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge.

"Hold on," Lee Anne said. "I'll call Thomas."

"No! It's urgent!" I yelled. "I'm bleeding and I can't find anything to stop it!"

"Oh, shit," I heard Lee Anne curse under her breath. "Quinn, stand back from the door." Crimson blood dripped onto the carpet as I backed up. Lee Anne tried to knock the door down. But I never got to see if she succeeded. Suddenly, a deep, dark blackness enveloped me into a deep sleep.