the edge

7.

delilah (tw)

the next morning i rolled out of bed feeling heavy. any time garrett was mentioned, it put me in a foul mood for a while. i always considered his suicide to be partially my fault. we spent all of our time together, and obviously i knew he was suicidal, but not even i could tell he was about to take his own life, and it ate away at me every time i thought about it. what could i have done differently? did i not pay enough attention to him? how could i possibly miss the warning signs?

maybe that's why it hurt so much. i thought he was recovering, but instead he was getting worse and i had no idea. i never deserved garrett, and something in my gut was telling me i didn't deserve branson either - even though i hardly knew him.

i didn't bother changing my clothes. instead, i rolled out of bed in my wrinkled shirt and slipped on my shoes. my hair was dirty, so i pulled it up into a ponytail, i didn't have the energy needed to shower.

when i entered the cafeteria, it was nearly empty. most people didn't eat this early, but i was trying to avoid everyone and one person in particular. i grabbed a tray and sat at a table in the back of the room, alone. the food looked unappealing, but forcing myself to eat was more appealing than being lectured later during therapy, so i ate one small bite at a time. i had nearly finished my plate when branson showed up and sat down across from me.

"hey delilah." he said, and for some reason that pushed me over the edge.

"no." i said quietly.

"what?"

"no!" i repeated louder, looking up at him through my dark rimmed eyes. i stood up and leaned over the table. "i am not doing this again. i don't want to know you. no - i refuse to let you squirm your way into my life. this isn't summer camp, we're all here because we want to fucking die. this isn't where you make friends. this is where you either recover or stay until you succeed in killing yourself. and since my only experience with another person in this godforsaken place has resulted in the latter, i'd rather not have a repeat."

he looked at me with wide eyes until i stormed away feeling worse than i ever had before, heading straight to my room.

it wasn't long before the thought of relapsing pushed its way to the front of my mind. i knew i hurt his feelings and i knew he hadn't done anything to deserve me treating him like that, but i did it anyways.

i stood and slowly walked over towards the small desk that was placed in the corner of every room here, where i had taped a paperclip underneath it that i'd found on the floor outside of the main office. it was like a switch went off in my brain and the only thing on my mind was tearing open my skin, i knew it would make the tight feeling in my chest go away. i glanced at the clock before sitting on the cold hardwood floor gripping the paperclip tight enough in my hand to leave a mark. i pulled the leg of my shorts up to expose my thigh and in a matter of 30 seconds i went from 9 days clean to 0. after a few minutes the feeling passed and i realized what i'd done. as i looked down at the cuts i started crying and i didn't stop until i looked up a few minutes later and saw branson standing in the doorway of my room with wide eyes.

a/n: i would've been 2 years clean today if i hadn't fucked up in september and relapsed lol i hate myself

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