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Everything that just went down replays in my head on a loop, growing more twisted and damning with each passing second. More than one set of eyes drills into my back as I rush out of the family room, but I don’t look back.
If I could, I’d make like the Flash and race around the planet as many times as I needed to, to go back to before this party even started.
Even if it means never knowing what it’s like to kiss a boy…
To kiss Mason.
I’d take not knowing over this.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I did it.
And not accidentally this time.
I used scissors, because it seemed safer. Not so sharp that I’d accidentally cut too deep.
It’s not like I’m trying to kill myself. But if I cut too deep and had to get stitches, that’s what they would all assume. That I’m depressed. That I wanna die.
But I don’t.
Sure, I’m sad sometimes. Who isn’t? But this isn’t about that…
I don’t know what it’s about really.
I just know I want this feeling to go away…this feeling like there’s something wrong with me, rotting me from the inside out. It feels…powerful to do something about it, rather than just keep it all in. This is me taking action against it, so I don’t have to put that burden on anyone else.
They’re already burdened enough as it is.
Dad has a pack of thin razor blades in his cabinet.
When he and Mom leave for dinner tonight, I plan to sneak in there and take one, just to have, just to keep, just in case.
The scissors didn’t work well.
There’s a scratch mark, but I didn’t even break enough skin to draw blood.
Seems pretty pointless to go through all this trouble if I don’t…release anything.
Give something…
Like a sacrifice.
What’s a little blood for some peace?
I don’t talk to my sister for three days.
She tried apologizing later that night. She snuck away from her slumber party and into my room, and crawled into my bed. I rolled away from her, and threw the covers over my head, pretending I was asleep, even though we both knew I wasn’t.
It didn’t stop her from talking, from hugging me, from telling me she loves me no matter what.
“I went about this all wrong,” she told me.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I really did think it would help,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
And all I could wonder was, How? How could you possibly be so selfish and stupid to think that would help me?
