Shattered [h.s.]

Chapter 25

I collapse onto Joey's coach, a light curtain of sweat coating my skin as I try to regain my breath. We had gone down to our building's gym, burning at least 500 calories, though I haven't even consumed that many in weeks. My body is trembling and my heart is fluttering in my chest at an unhealthy speed, but I don't care. I feel powerful, I feel unstoppable.

"Coffee?" Joey calls from the kitchen, pouring herself a cup. I furrow my brows. Coffee isn't exceptionally calorie-filled, but after burning all of today's and yesterday's calories, I feel guilty from even the thought of it.

"Black coffee is zero cal." Joey says as if reading my mind, strolling into the sitting area with two cups. I visibly relax, accepting the steaming mug, then taking a hearty gulp. It immediately warms me, filling my body with the heat it's been craving since Harry left.

"I live off this stuff," Joey says before taking a sip. "No calories, but gives you energy for hours."

"Hm, I've never even thought of it." I ponder the thought, knowing that now I've discovered it, I'll be able to actually get out of bed.

"Stick with me, kid. I know all the tricks in the book." Joey winks with a laugh.

I'm quiet for a minute as I contemplate asking the question that plagues my mind, wondering if it's worth the repercussions that it may very well cause.

"Um, Joey?" I finally ask apprehensively.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever, um, have you...hurt yourself? Like, intentionally." I avert my gaze, regretting the query the second it falls from my lips, learning instantly it's better to keep your mouth shut, and your thoughts locked up.

"Are you kidding?" Joey's eyes are wide, her stare burning holes in my skin. "Haven't you noticed them by now?" She outstretches her arm, and for the first time, I take a good look at it. The surface of the flesh is covered with lines, both red and white. The white are faded and thick, old scars that are still present but not as prominent. The red are the newer ones, scabbing over with a ruby colored coating that add elevation to the cuts. The most noticeable scar is long and pink, stretching from the wrist all the way down to her elbow. Involuntarily, I reach a finger out and run it down the vertical line, feeling its bumpy texture.

"That was from last year," Joey says, her voice just above a whisper. "I tried to end it all. My mom found me on the floor of the bathroom, covered in blood."

I pull away from her, looking into her eyes, as mine fill with sorrow.

"I'm so sorry." I whisper.

"It's okay. Let me see yours." She says bluntly, finding it obvious that I too inflict intentional pain on myself.

I sigh as I display my arm to her, showing her the dozens of cuts that line the skin.

She doesn't hesitate to grab my arm, pulling it nearer to get a closer look.

"Damn these are deep." She mutters, tracing the inflictions with the pad of her forefinger.

I pull my arm away from her, suddenly embarrassed by the sight of my broken flesh.

"Sorry, I just..wanted to know that other people did it too." I mumble, my eyes dropping down to the cup in my lap.

Surprisingly, Joey lets out a snort, a sarcastic smile grazing her lips.

"Please, I've been doing it since I was thirteen." She laughs, shocking me by her admittance.

"Have you ever thought about getting help for that?" I ask sincerely, knitting my brows together in a quizzed expression.