11:25am
"Jackson!"
Mark runs up to me, a black bag slinged around one of his shoulders.
"Hi friend!" He stops in front of me and giggles.
I smile weakly. The multitude of medicine is kicking my ass. I feel more dead than alive.
Mark stares at me. His brown eyes examining every nook and cranny of my face. Then, suddenly he reaches towards my head.
I flinch, unknown of what he's doing until I feel him softly pat my head.
"It's okay." He smiles softly as his hand lays on top of my overgrown hair.
I nod my head.
He removes his hand from my head.
"Let's go to class!" Mark starts to skip towards the main hall of the campus. I walk quickly behind him in an attempt to keep up with him.
He moves way too fast.
"How was class today?" Mark asks as he drinks from his water bottle.
I shrug.
Classes have ended for the day and the two of us are sitting under my favorite tree on the school's campus.
"No response?" Mark blows a raspberry. He starts to search through his bag until he finds a notebook and a pen.
"Jackson's speech notebook!" He turns to me with a smirk. "I totally just made that up." He giggles.
He hands me the notebook and pen. Mark straightens his back and looks at me intensely to see if I'll respond with written words.
To satisfy him, I write down what I did for the day and how I felt about it. How I felt about being alone in class, how people commented about my injuries, how my professor ignored me completely just because he hates me. As Mark reads what I wrote, a large frown rests on his face.
"Don't be sad." He looks at me with teary eyes. "Be glad."
He drops the notebook and pulls me in for a hug.
I tense up. I'm not used to people hugging me so willingly. It's strange yet it feels oddly comforting.
"Does this make you uncomfortable?" He asks as I sit limply in his arms. I listen to his booming heartbeat as my face rests against his chest.
I shake my head.
"Do you like me?"
Instantly, I nod my head.
"Are we friends?"
I nod my head.
"Promise me something, Jackson."
I raise myself off of his chest and look him in the eyes. For the first time in the couple of months I've known him, his eyes aren't daringly bright. They're sincere and bold.
He gently grabs my wrist and raises the sleeves of my jacket. Scars litter my arm from the multiple attempts I've done to take my life.
It's looks worst than the last time I've seen it.
Mark's fingers ghost over the healed scars. His face is ridden with sadness as he stares at my disgrace of an arm.
He raises his hand to my face and caresses my sore cheek.
"Promise me, you won't hurt yourself anymore." He stares into my eyes as he speaks with the softest voice I have yet to hear from him.
Tears brim my eyes.
"Promise me, please." He begs. "You'll eat, you'll sleep, you'll stop hurting yourself. Promise me?" He holds up his pinky finger.
I nod my head slowly and my shaky pinky finger wraps around his.
He smiles softly, I can't help the choked sob that tears through my throat.
I don't usually cry in front of normal people, only my therapist or doctors. But with Mark, those worried eyes of his make me weak.
They make me guilty. I'm the one who's making him worried, I'm the one who's making him sad. I'm terrible.
Mark holds me as I cry into his cream sweater. He caresses my hair as he hums a soothing tune.
"I'm here for you." He rests his face against my head.
I squeeze him tightly as I cry into his soft sweater. Mark didn't let me go until my tears seized.
For the first time in my disgrace of a life, I was comforted.
