The Dysfunction Of Evan: Books 1-3 Collection

4. I'm In Way Too Deep, Help?

I stared into the sink as water swirled with the red blood dripping from my arm. I had a death grip on the razor blade in my right hand. My face was scrunched up and I was crying.

"Fuck everything." I said putting the blade back to my skin. "FUCK EVERYTHING!" I screamed as I pierced into my arm. I crouched down, sobbing and screaming. "I just want it to end, please just stop." I cried.

"What are you doing?" Natalie shouted at me, she rushed over, and yanked the razor from my hand. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around my arm. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed a number. "I don't care where you are or what you are doing, you need to get here now." She said angrily into the phone. She paused and said "Because she cut herself! I don't know what's going on, but she's in a real bad place and you need to be here." She hung up the phone and looked at me.

"Fuck. You need to get to the hospital." She said. She noticed the half empty bottle of vodka. "Fantastic." She muttered as she pulled me up. The blood was starting to seep through the towel. "I can't drive and take care of this, I have to call 9-1-1." She said. She sat me on the toilet as she made her phone call.

"Cut!" Ray called from behind the camera. I unwrapped the towel and pulled the bleeding bladder off my arm, tossing it on the sink. "Great job. Astrid, do you think you can give it one more go?"

"Nope. I need to stop. Not only am I very drunk right now, I just...I'm very...I need to stop." I replied. We'd already done ten takes, the last eight using real vodka because sober me couldn't cut into the bladders.

"Okay, we'll break for now. Natalie, I need you to be ready for scene 47 in about an hour. Then we'll be done for the day." Ray announced.

"You okay?" Natalie asked me. Andrea brought over wet towels so I could clean up. 

"Nope." I said. I didn't want to talk about it. I cleaned myself up in silence and went to my trailer. 

Tom was sitting in the living room talking on the phone, Rebel curled up in his lap. I grabbed Rebel and went to my room without a word, not even looking at Tom, who tried to get my attention. I closed my bedroom door and curled up in the middle of the bed with my cat.

My mind was swirling with memories of the times I'd cut myself. I stared at the two thin lines on my right wrist, remnants from a cutting session almost two years ago. Not my most recent, but the last one to leave scars. I tried to avoid scars on my arms. I had tattoos on my arms to cover the worst ones. The ones on my stomach and thighs blended in with my stretch marks. I ran my thumb over the scars my eyes were fixated on, remembering why I did it. 

The was a light knocking on the door before it opened. I glanced up to see Tom's head sticking through. 

"Can I come in?" He asked, his voice soft and comforting. I shrugged. He smirked, stood there for a moment, then walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. He noticed that I was rubbing my wrist and grabbed it to investigate, looking at my scars.

"I had an affair with someone I shouldn't have been fucking, and I thought I was pregnant. I had decided to get an abortion." I said in a small voice. Tom didn't say anything as he released my arm. "I wasn't pregnant, turns out ovarian cysts cause positive tests and early pregnancy symptoms." 

He shifted and pulled me close, letting me rest my head in his lap. I held up my left arm and traced the outline of my Dark Mark tattoo. 

"I have scars hidden under here, from High School. My teen years were the worst. No one listened to me, kept saying I was just looking for attention. I was alone, in more ways than one. It helped me remember that I was still alive, and helped me validate the pain I felt." As I spoke, Tom ran his fingers gently over the tattoo, feeling the scars of my pain.