QUEER | tayley

beautiful scars on critical veins

big!! self-harm trigger warning

Ever since the unique night that Hayley and I shared, things have been different. Initially, it was subtle; she would take a bit longer to text back, talk less when we were together, leave earlier than usual when we would hang out.

But things continued to worsen.

She wouldn't reply to my messages at all, she would refuse to hang out with me or go on dates, and, worst of all, she continued to tell me that nothing was wrong.

The only time we would really spend together was during school. Even then, though, things felt forced.

Eventually, I decided that I was tired of this newfound attitude. Something was wrong and I wanted her to tell me what that something was.

Taylor: I miss you

Hayley: We saw each other in school today, T.

Taylor: Yeah, but that's different

Taylor: Because we act differently around one another when we're alone. You've been so distant since Valentine's Day...

Hayley: You know I love you, right?

Taylor: Yeah...

Taylor: I feel like you've loved me less since seeing my body

Hayley: I don't know how to say this. But I'm scared, for your sake, that if we continue dating, something bad is going to happen. I know how your dad is. The threat that he made scares me, to be honest. Well, it wasn't totally a threat, but I know he doesn't want us to be talking. What if he realizes that we're still together? We can still be friends, but I feel like anything beyond that is only going to be a risk for both of us. I love you, I just want what's best for you.

Taylor: If you truly loved me, then you wouldn't want to leave me right now

Hayley: Taylor stop.

Taylor: Well you're not my girlfriend anymore so you can't tell me what to do.

Hayley: Can we at least talk about this?

I decide against answering Hayley's unopened message. I calmly place my phone down on my bedside table and push myself to my feet. I surprise even myself with how peacefully I am able to walk to my desk, dig through one of the drawers to retrieve a small, metal blade that I ripped out of a stolen pencil sharpener. The small blade's been hidden in my drawer for months. Lately, though, it's been making an appearance more and more often.

Before I've even pressed the sharp edge of the metal against my scarred skin, my phone vibrates again. I roll my eyes and force myself to drag my body to where my phone is sitting.

Hayley: Answer me

Hayley: I'm coming over if you don't answer me

Taylor: I don't want you to see me like this.

After I text back, I sit down on my bed. The springs squeak beneath my body.

I take hold of the blade once again, small enough to hold between just two fingers. My thumb and my index finger hold the blade against my skin, pushed against a piece of untouched skin. Around the flesh is nothing but various shades of red, varying depending on how recent each self-inflicted wound is.

My phone begins to ring, which I ignore. I already know who it is.

I quickly drag the sharp tool from one end of my wrist to the other. I sharply inhale through my nose, but no tears form in my eyes.

As the dark red color escapes through the new slit I've made in my skin, I finally look over at my phone. The ringing has stopped. But that doesn't mean that Hayley hasn't.

Hayley: what does rhat mean

Hayley: taylor please answer me

Hayley: I feel nauseuos i caused this i caused whatever is happeninf

Hayley: I just want whats best for you ad that isnt me

Zac: Hayley just texted me and was freaking out. It was hard to decode her cry typing but based on what I could figure out, it sounds like you're doing something bad...

Zac: I'm not stupid. I know you've started hurting yourself more often. You've been wearing long sleeved shirts even when it's warm out, you're always glancing at your own wrists to be sure nothing is showing. I don't know why I haven't said anything sooner...I just know that nothing I say or do is going to stop you. I love you T you're my best friend

Taylor: I'm fine

I was not crying earlier, but the waterworks began as soon as I read Zac's texts to me. I know I'm not only hurting myself, I am also upsetting and hurting my loved ones. But I can't stop myself.

I blink hard and retrieve my blade. Instead of tossing my blade into the trash or flushing it down the drain, as I imagine Zac would want me to do, I do the exact opposite. With shaky hands, I bring the blade lower on my forearm, closer to my bicep than the other cuts but still close to the others, and cut horizontally. I repeat this action in various nearby locations on the same arm.

Blood drips from my skin, landing on my black jeans. The red color is difficult to see through the dark fabric, so I should have no problem with washing it out and hiding it from my parents.

I grab my phone and, of course, see several new texts from Hayley that I must have been crying too much to have noticed earlier. I have just one message from Zac.

Zac: I know you're lying

Hayley: if you dont reply to me in the next 2 minutes im coming over

Hayley: taylor this ISNT FUCKIG FUNNY

Hayley: thats it im comig over

I count my scars from tonight. Seven. Plus one half-assed one, but I won't count that one.

I grab a tissue from a tissue box which resides on my nightstand and press the tissue against the new marks upon my skin. I find amusement in watching the blood seep through the thin material. Suddenly, I hear the doorbell ring.

I pull my sleeve up and hurry downstairs before my mom could open the door. When I open the door, my mom shouts from the kitchen, "Taylor? Who's at the door?"

"A friend of mine from school. They just need the homework," I shout back, succeeding in hiding the fact that I've been crying. But when I turn to face Hayley, it's obvious by my red cheeks and even redder eyes that I've been crying. And the same goes for her.

I exit my house and shut the door behind me.

"You should leave," I say to her with a sniffle. She doesn't say anything, just shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Leave," I demand a second time. But once again, she says nothing. Her actions say enough.

"You don't want me, so there's no reason for you to be here. What's done is done. You dumped me and I hurt myself. Leave before things get worse."

"You-you did?"

I let out a long sigh. "Yeah. I did. But you said what you needed to say. Get off my property before I call the police," I threaten, although we both know that I'm full of shit.

Her jaw clenches and tears fall from her eyes. She slowly nods, but it's evident that she doesn't want to go anywhere. Nonetheless, she does leave. She drives away, tears continuing to fall from those green eyes.