Paint You Wings

Twenty-two

**Three Weeks Later**

It's hard to focus on the menu in front of me. All I can stare at are his lips. The lips I want on mine more than ever. He clears his throat and I realize I'm staring. Embarrassed, I avert my eyes and stare at the menu.

"Say the word Belle. We can go home, and you can have me for dinner." His voice is low and husky. I know he wants me as much as I want him.

I chew on the inside of my cheek until the taste of blood fills my mouth.

I've been staying at Maya's for the past three weeks. Not only to keep Aaron and I from sleeping together, but also because the less I'm around him, the less likely it is that he'll see the cuts on my arm. Unfortunately, Maya has noticed them a lot and she's figured out that telling me to quit doesn't work, but she did promise to not tell Aaron. Thankfully, Richard hasn't tried to find me, and as far as we know he hasn't gone after Aaron's dad. Everything's been out of hand lately, Aaron and I hang out every now and again, but nothing will be the same. I try to put as much distance between the two of us as possible, but considering I promised him we could be friends, we hang out at least once a week. We also don't want word getting to Richard that we aren't together, because who knows what he'd do then?

A waiter comes up and takes our order. I stare up at the familiar face. Then it hits me that I slept with this guy while Aaron was away. Surely he doesn't remember?

"Hey! I know you!" Spoke too soon.

I laugh nervously and glance at Aaron who is staring at me confused. The waiter turns to him then, "You have fun with this one. She's quite wild." My face gets hot as Aaron eyes fill with anger and desire. Why does he have to be so fucking sexy? Aaron chokes out a response that's inaudible and we order our food.

The rest of the dinner is quiet. I know he's only waiting until we're in private to talk about it. The waiter on the other hand, made sure to throw me suggestive looks every time he was by our table.

The driver side door slams shut as Aaron starts the car. He doesn't speak.

I open my mouth to apologize, but Aaron holds up his hand.

"I just don't want to hear it Belle. I don't care. We weren't together then, and we aren't together now. Sleep with whoever the fuck you want."

And that's how we end the night.

I go straight to my room -the guest bedroom- when I get back to Maya's. Not being with Aaron is torture. I'm barely able to sleep without him next to me. I walk into the bathroom that's attached and pull out my stash of blades. I stare at my arm as I twirl the blade in my hand. It's covered in bright red and pink marks. Some are scars, some are week old cuts, and some are day old cuts. I drag the blade across the middle of my arm. At first the skin is white, and then the blood fills it in. It trickles across my wrist slowly and then drops off into the sink. I repeat this action multiple times.

Just another painting.

I sigh as the numbness calms me. As the sight of blood makes me feel okay. And as the small sting that beats the numb feeling reminds me that I'm alive. Sadly.

Nothing makes me feel better than this blade against my arm, not even sex with Aaron. Not even using my fake ID to get drunk. Not even smoking, which I now have a bad habit of.

Nothing makes me feel okay except this goddamn blade making marks on my arm.

Tears fall into the sink along with my blood. I try my hardest to suppress the sobs that threaten to tear me apart.

Maya hates that I cut. She hates that I harm myself. She hates that I feel this sad, but she knows that it won't stop me, so she gave me bandages. The kind that you wrap around your wounds. Not just band-aids. She told me if I'm going to do it, I have to at least do it safe. She's like my mom talking to me about sex.