Page 77 of Every Breath After

“Oh, ew ew ew,” I remember Izzy squealing, and I looked up just in time to see her bury her face in Mason’s shoulder. He was sitting on one side of her, the side closest to me. Waylon was on the other side, laughing, poking fun at her for being squeamish.

On the TV, one of the girls, who was apparently this good girl turned bad, getting in all sorts of trouble…she was digging a razor blade into her arm.

My eyes widened at the sight, my drawing forgotten.

I wanted to look away.

It was…well, not gross. I don’t know what it was, but it made me feel…funny. Curious.

I felt like I was watching something I shouldn’t.

And I remember Izzy asking, “Why would she do that? Is she trying to kill herself?” and thinking to myself, No, no, that’s not why, though I had no idea how I knew that. I’d never seen something like this before. The girl…she was hurting herself…because she was upset…

And it stayed with me. Like a song I couldn’t get out of my head, the image of that girl cutting into her skin and crying and yet…smiling…like she felt better…

I couldn’t shake it.

But I also didn’t think too much on it either.

Not until now.

Watching the blood bubble up, feeling the sting of it as I squeeze the skin around it, remembering that rush of hot pain shooting up my arm…

There’s a pulsing in my ears now, making me feel like I’m underwater.

I swallow a couple times, and inhale deeply, feeling my chest rise.

I hold it until it hurts.

And then I release it.

All the while, my eyes remain fastened to that thin stream of red staining my wrist.

It’ll heal, I tell myself. Won’t even scar.

And for some reason, I frown at that.

“Jeremy?” Mom calls from downstairs, and I snap my head, eyes wide. Like a spell has broken, I quickly wipe my arm on my jeans, as if to hide the evidence.

It was an accident.

It was.

But for some reason…

It doesn’t feel like one.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

AGE 13, JUNE

Mom sits me down, telling me we have to talk.

“Where’s Squirt?” I rush out, my voice cracking. It’s been doing that a lot lately.

My chest tightens, pulse racing as I look around the kitchen, straining my ears for a familiar giggle, the chatter of television, something, anything…

But it’s quiet.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com