Everything I Should Have Said

Couldn't

lypophrenia

[n.] a vague feeling of sorrow or sadness without any apparent source or cause
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Happiness was felt when he cut him self, actually no, it was euphoria which was mistaken by him as happiness, as bliss.

I remember the first time I tried what he did, just to see what it was like. Just to feel what he felt. Just to be brave for a while.

The cold metal of the fairly blunt scissor blade came into contact with my warm animate skin, and I gasped. I wanted to stop, but still I was curious so I pressed the scissor harder into the skin around my hip bone. I didn't feel anything at first, so I brought the scissor back done onto my hip but there was a shiny red liquid that stopped me. I was hit with regret and denial. I tried to stop the little blood that meant nothing to anyone who viewed it but was the milestone of destruction to me.

See, I promised myself not to do it again, I pushed the scissor back into my pencil case and tried to forget what I had just done. I thought I wouldn't do it again but the next day I had the urge to feel the cool metal against me and I knew I was in trouble.

I remember my hands searching for the scissor and running my fingers along the blade, and I remember the urge to make another permanent scar on myself again. I looked at it hard, and I shook my head, thinking that just two days, a mere forty eight hours ago,  I would have laughed if someone said I would be in this situation, into making cutting a habit.

As I pressed the metal against me, I knew I was making an experiment a habit. I closed my eyes, my door was open hoping someone would walk in and stop me before this started spiraling out of control. No one did, instead my phone rang and the piece of metal slipped from my hands.

"Clover, come over please, I'm bleeding and I don't know what to do, please." I looked at that blade and all I wanted to do was cut myself too, so he didn't feel so alone but I knew I had to help him. So I ran out my door not caring that I had flip flops on, knowing his house was in the same neighborhood, I found it his. yellow doored house. All sunny and gay on the outside but horrid things go on behind closed doors.

When I walked in his house was deadly silent, the door was unlocked which made me assume he wanted to truly kill himself on that day, so someone would find him before it was to late. A little like my earlier thoughts.

I knew where he would be and he was, his hands covered with blood which braced himself on the sink, he leaned over and smiled at me before his eyes closed. He swayed for a while before I caught him.

I called the ambulance and thankfully he didn't cut his wrists, he started with his left bicep and descended slowly down till just before his elbow veins.

His face was pale and his hair was matted to his head. The nurse kept on reminding me to breath because I had seemed to forget how to. All I could hear was the sirens and the doctors shouting orders like they're supposed to.

I waited for hours till he woke up, his mother did not come but she did pay for the bills because that showed her support. She was on holiday with her new boyfriend that I knew was not going to last long.

I was allowed in as I was the only one and he was not critical. My mom on the other hand did not care about my whereabouts usually, insisted to know where I was. With a friend was all I said before I heard her tell someone, a male to shush. I didn't wait for a pathetic excuse so I hung up the phone and supported someone I should've, right from the beginning, not only when he called.

"Shane, I'm sorry, if I called-" The guilt was over powering me. He took a bullet for me weather he knew so or not, but he did because if it wasn't for that phone call I would soon be in the same position as him. It felt as if he was warning me to not become like him, like he bled for me too believe I was ok and not as weak as I thought and maybe he did it because he knew that if I saw what it was like to become addicted I wouldn't even touch a sharp object again, at least without the intent of self harm.

"Clover, stop I called you because I needed you. Not an ambulance or a paramedic, I just needed to see you so I knew I wouldn't feel so emotionless. So dead." My eyes were a tap that could not be closed and my heart was as heavy as an elephants bones. He looked frail, not physically but more emotionally. Without a word I lifted my shirt a little and bared my most prized possession yet my most deadly scar.

He motioned for me to come closer and I did, he pressed a feather light kiss to the first mark I've made on my body.

Tears fell from his eyes and onto my body as he rested his forehead against my hip bone , he shook violently and kissed it one last time.

"Please forgive me." I shook my head trying to tell him I'm not going to do it again, that he had prevented me from even thinking about it. That his bravery to stay, to breath another day was keeping me from crossing out mine. So his misery was feeding me life.

"You don't know it yet, Shane but you saved me. You saved me from something I know nothing of, something I wanted to be a part of but now I can't even think why I would want to be. I don't need to be like you to help you, I just need to care and love you and I do." He looked up at me and made me promise not to tell our friends, I complied mainly because I didn't want them to know either, I wanted it to be our secret and I think he wanted that too.