Love, a Four Letter Word

Cutting, a Seven Letter Word

Cutting.

A seven letter word.

A verb.

A "C" word, that has fourteen possible definitions.

But, when she used the word cutting, only one is correct.

She had been staining her wrists red for years now. She started when her dad began to abuse her when she was in high school. It just became more of a habit after everyone in her family, expect her mum, abandoned her by saying, "We love you, but you're not a priority for us."

It was the only way that she knew how to deal with the pain.

She had stopped talking and the tears were silently streaming down her cheeks and onto her neck. We were downtown London, there were people all around us but the world was suddenly silent. 

My brain was combing through my knowledge trying to find some way to respond, but it found nothing. I didn't know how to comfort her, this was all new to me. 

I never thought the girl I used to watch at the coffee shop, the perfect woman she was would be going through all this stuff she is telling me. Nor did I think she would be telling me, the guy she just met. 

"As a little girl, I have always loved running in the fields and picking flowers. I loved trying to catch birds and lay in the sunlight watching the clouds drift by. I have always loved the way the leaves move in a breeze and that soft whispering sound they make." She took a deep breath looking at the pavement.

She let more tears fall down her cheek as she put her head down, "Yet the tiredness that begun a while ago remains like a veil over my skin, grey and cold. I think maybe If I go back to doing what made me happy when I was a kid would help me. But as I watch the petals and the twigs that sway outside the window, there is only a creeping sorrow where there should be joy. I thought cutting was my answer, now it's been the only answer to all my problems." 

I reached my hand out for hers, "I'm so sorry, Adele." I truly was, I just didn't know what to say to her.

I wish I would have said something other than that, I could have stopped her. I regret everything I said, I wish I just would have helped her the most I could. But I'm too late now, and these thoughts haunt me every day. 

She took another deep breath wiping her tears, "Don't feel bad. I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. It's not like you can fix anything." She stood up and dried her tears again, this time with her sleeve. 

"No, don't say that. I'm glad you told me, It's good to get this off your chest." 

She shook her head while grabbing her purse she had set down on the bench where we were sitting, "I-I should probably go." She quietly said as her voice shook from the pain, "I'll see you later."

I didn't know what to do, I should have grabbed her by the waist and told her everything was going to be okay, but I didn't. 

I watched her walk away, down the pavement. She was walking unusually slowly, almost robotically. Like her brain was struggling to tell each foot to take the next step. I could see the hurt in each step she took. 

I sat there frozen, my brain told me to move and go after her, but I physically couldn't move my feet. I was still taken back by everything she had just told me. 

I watched her get into a cab after I knew she was safe I got up and slowly walked to my car. 

While I sat in my car driving home I watched the soft splashing water droplets hit the car windows. The skies were blanketing my car of grey, and darkness so much so that I can barely tell the difference between the sky and clouds.

Usually, people find the rain-dark and depressing, but I find it commonly calming. But as I drove home that night I was too traumatized still by Adele and her story. Who knew Adele, the slightly famous, at the time, an amazing singer would have a story like that. 

I parked my car in my driveway and picked up my phone. I clicked on my messages with Adele.

"Should I text her?" I said as I thought out loud. 

After a while of typing and erasing everything I wrote I decided to call her. 

The ring seemed to keep getting louder each time it rang. I grew more and more impatient and scared as I waited for her to pick up. 

"Hey, it's Adel-" 

I cut her off, "Adele, It's Simo-" this time she cut me off before I could keep talking. I stopped talking and listened to what she had to say.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the phone right now, leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks bye." 

I took the phone down from my ear after realizing it was just her answering machine. 

Even then when I listened to the recording I could hear the hurt in her voice. I didn't realize it before but now it's clear as day to me. 

"She's hurting and I need to fix it," I said boldly to myself out loud as if it was obvious.

 I wished it was as easy as it was saying it. But could I, the "creepy man" that stares at her in the coffee shop, actually could have fixed her? If I was the one that was supposed to be her saviour wouldn't I have been able to go after her when she left?

A/N: Welp, I don't like this chapter. But you guys were begging for one so here you go! Hope you guys like it, comment what you think thanks! Xx

And yeah I didn't really proofread but I'll do that later.