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“Promise me something,” I ask, shoving my hands in my pockets and averting my eyes to the mirror behind her. The tip of my finger touches the teeth on the key, but I don’t press down. Just knowing it’s there is reassuring enough at the moment.
“What?”
“Tell me the next time you have the need to do that.” I tip my chin to her thighs without moving my eyes there.
She chews on her bottom lip for a moment before she nods. Her answer says a lot. I’ve read up on self-harm quite a bit. Most people keep the addiction to themselves, feeling shame over what they’re doing to their body. For them to tell someone about it most often means they trust that person inexplicably. Rella seems like the typical case, so for her to tell me when she has the need means she must trust me. I still don’t understand that part, but I’ll take it. It means I may be able to talk her down from her need.
“I’ll leave and let you get dressed,” I mutter and turn to the door.
“Aziah?”
I turn back. Indecision wars in her eyes for a moment before she slowly walks over to me. My breath freezes in my lungs as she steps so close the tips of her toes touch the tips of mine. She looks at me for several seconds before she rests her hand on my forearm, rolls to the balls of her feet, and presses the gentlest of kisses against my cheek. I close my eyes and relish in the sweet gesture. When I open my eyes again, she’s several feet away, her expression unsure.
She has no idea the gift she just gave me. Her emotions were out of whack while I was comforting her and tending to her wounds. That was the only reason our close proximity didn’t frighten her. For her to be so close and to touch me on her own, to kiss my cheek, is something I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RELLA
The Past
MY VISION IS BLURRY when I first open my eyes. The room is dark and my head hurts, so that makes it harder to see anything. I blink several times and it helps.
It’s too dark to know where I am. I just know it’s not my bedroom. There’s a weird smell. Like how people smell when they’re sick.
I turn my head and see a window. It’s dark out, and I can see the moon through the curtain that’s barely open.
Something pounds inside my head, and I reach up to rub my forehead, then realize my arms aren’t working. A moment later, my wrists start to sting. I glance down and frown when I notice my arms aren’t working because there’re black straps attached to them.
Why are my arms tied down? What’s happening?
My eyes move past the black straps and see something white wrapped around my wrists. When I try to move my arms again another sharp pain comes. My vision blurs again, this time with tears.
Memories of me in the gazebo with a knife in my hand flash in my head. Then I remember the pain when I pressed it against my wrists. It hurt so badly, but all I thought about was that it didn’t hurt as bad as when Mr. Masters made Aziah do those nasty things to me. I was sad because I just wanted to die, but I knew I would miss everyone I cared about. That’s why I went to the gazebo to do it. I felt close to them there. Like they were with me.
My nose burns, and tears slide out of the corners of my eyes. It was all for nothing, because I didn’t die. I’m still here, and Hell Night is coming up, so the pain will continue.
Scared and feeling alone, I begin to scream. My arms and even my legs are tied down, but I don’t care. I pull and yank until I feel wetness through the bandages on my wrists. I scream until my throat hurts. I pray so hard to God and beg him to take me away from this place.
I’m momentarily blinded, and my screams die down when a door opens, flooding the room with light. It takes me a moment to realize who walks into the room.
“Dr. M-Manor?” I stutter out. “W-What’s going o-on?”
“Hush, child,” he scolds, his voice harder than I’ve ever heard before. It scares me. “You’ve already caused enough trouble the last few days.”
He steps further into the room and pulls something from his pocket. It’s a needle. My eyes widen when he moves to the bed. I didn’t notice the needle stuck in the back of my hand until he lifts the small clear tube and it tugs against my skin. He puts the needle in some type of plastic thing that’s attached to the tube and pushes the plunger.
His eyes move to me once he’s done. “Now, you’re going to sleep for a while, and when you wake up, everything will be different.”
As soon as the words leave his lips, I feel a heaviness in my eyes, like something is pulling them closed. I don’t want to go to sleep. I don’t want to wake up. I’m afraid of what will happen if I do either.
My eyes close by themselves, and I try so hard to make them open again, but I can’t.
Trouble, Aziah, anyone, please help me, is my last thought before everything goes black.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED.”
“It’s all over the news. Have you heard from Harold or Jamie?”
