Maybe One Day

15: A Change of Scenery

*I'm back! I know it's been a good two or three months since I updated, but sports are over so I can get back to writing now :) The story has kind of taken a turn, so let me know how you like it. Enjoy!*

Skylar Rizzaroe had officially gone from my best friend to my hated enemy. And I was right; she can do damage.

This is why I have been sitting on my bed, crying, for the past hour. For the amount I've cried in the past few months, you'd think I was a total wimp and loser. And maybe I am, but at least I always had someone to turn to. Now that he's gone and Isaac is a good forty-five minutes away, I feel like I have no one.

I dial Maddie's number for the fifth time in an hour, hoping for someone to talk to. Relief floods over me when I hear her answer, "What? Why have you called me so many times?"

"Maddie, I really need someone to talk to-"

"Can it wait? I have stuff to do, I don't need another to hear another one of your sob stories," she snaps.

Startled by her harsh reaction, I mutter, "Well, I really just need some support -"

"Don't we all? Look, I know you're upset about Matt, but come on, he's just a guy! And stop letting Skylar get to you so much! A lot of people have it worse than you, Olivia. I have things on my mind to. So I'm sorry if I'm not ready to comfort you on every little problem," she finishes.

A lump forms in my throat that I can't seem to get to go away. Knowing I could never let Maddie see me weak, especially after her rant, I simply answered, "Fine," and hung up the phone and threw it across the room. Hot, angry tears pour down my face as I sit, outraged by what my best friend just said to me.

I sigh in defeat as I realize that the final person I have to turn to, Abbe, is still on summer vacation, missing the first week of school, and her family didn't let anyone bring any electronics.

I glance to my right at the knife sitting on my nightstand. I'm ashamed I'm even considering doing it, but what choice do I have? I wouldn't actually kill myself, just...get out my anger onto my wrist. I never understood why people cut themselves; they just did. But now, I can see the knife digging into my wrist and the satisfaction of the blood flowing...

I can't! People would know, they'd find out! Then they'd just have another reason to judge me. But Matt and Skylar together...Skylar's beautifully cruel face laughing at me, taunting me, and Matt standing there watching...Eli gone, without looking back, not a care in the world for me...Isaac, in the hospital still, sick and robbed of any chance he had of swimming professionally....and last time I was there, he didn't seem like he wanted to hear another one of my sob stories...and my mother. The mother that hits me when she's angry but afterwards, pretend it hadn't happened. If she hurts me when she's mad, why can't I?

Before I realize what I'm doing, the knife has slashed my left wrist. A throbbing pain is sitting there, but the good kind of pain. Adrenalin is pumping through me and I feel like I can do anything. I'm in control again. I laugh through the tears that fall, mixing with the blood. I did it. And I feel great.

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The next morning, I lie in bed, staring at the scar I've given myself. Never again, I promise myself. I can't be one of those kids that people judge because of obvious scars on the wrists or arms or legs or stomach. It was wrong. Cutting is wrong. And yet the power I felt while doing it was incredible.

I drag myself out of bed and put on a long sleeve sweater with leggings. While it was still 80 degrees outside, I couldn't risk anything.

I walk downstairs, grab a muffin, and hop onto one of our bar stools to eat it.