Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Jackson’s entire body trembles with indescribable rage, and I flinch, afraid that he may actually hurt me. I’ve never seen him so angry, seen him so close to the edge.
“I thought if I showed you that I cared, we could both heal, but I realized today that you don’t deserve to heal. You deserve to suffocate, to drown in your own pain and misery.” Then he leans into me, his lip curled—I turn away, afraid of what may happen if I look him in the eyes—as he whispers, “Cut yourself a little deeper next time.”
He doesn’t know it, but his words cut me deeper than any wound I could ever inflict on myself. He could throw me to the wall hard enough to crack my skull, and it wouldn’t hurt as much as this. Deep down, I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. I ate out of his open palm, letting him feed me lies, and make me believe something that was far too good to be true.
Between Jackson’s anger and Tylor’s presence, I’m in my own personal hell.
With one final shove, he releases me, and I slump back against the wall. I’m broken, a wound pulsing with blood, and soon I’ll bleed out. Rearing his arm back, he swings it at me like he’s going to punch me. The air swishes past my face, and I close my eyes and wait for the pain, but it never comes.
I feel the impact of his fist against the wall, and when I pry my eyes open, I find him standing in front of me, blood dripping down his clenched fist. He’s looking straight at me with nothing but unbridled hate and betrayal in his eyes. Everything we shared these last few days, every happy moment, every kiss, and every touch has been erased from his mind. In an instant, I’ve become nothing to him.
For every step we took forward, we just took twice as many back.
“I hate you, and I regret ever meeting you. I regret touching you. I regret everything between us,” he spits the words at me before turning around and walking away. Tylor stands there for another second, a wide smile spread across his face. I don’t even have to ask because I already know that he did this. He told Jackson a lie, and of course, he believed his friend over me. He didn’t even consider that Tylor was lying. He is convinced that I did whatever it is Tylor told him about me.
“Catch you later, baby,” he says, low enough so Jackson won’t hear before he too, turns around and walks away.
Left in the alleyway all alone, I have a hard time staying on my feet. My knees threaten to give out. All the wounds that were healing, have been ripped wide open. I feel so broken, shattered into a million tiny pieces that no glue in the world can put back together.
I thought I could heal, thought I could get better, but now I know that it was all an illusion. There is no redemption for me. I killed my best friend, and now I’m being punished. Forever punished, and I guess that’s what I deserve.
Shut it off. My brain screams as the sadness threatens to consume me.
When I can finally make my legs work again, I use that energy to take myself home. I’m so tired, so exhausted by simply trying to live.
I walk through my door, barely remembering the way to my apartment. My mind and my body feel disconnected somehow. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to do this. Fight to live, struggle to breathe.
I just want silence, peace…
On autopilot, I walk into my bathroom and strip out of my pants, remembering his words… “Cut yourself a little deeper next time.”
With shaking hands, I open the medicine cabinet and find the razor blades in their usual spot. Maybe part of me expected this to happen since I never threw them out. I guess my subconscious knew that my healing was only temporary.
I step into the bathtub and sit down. This will be easier to clean up, I think to myself as I look down at my thighs. It’s been a long time since I had a healing scab. Not having cut myself in days has left me without any fresh wounds. I take my legs in one last time, knowing that I’ll probably never see them like this again.
My heart pounds against my ribcage as I find a smooth spot on my thigh and bring the blade to my skin. With one flick of my wrist, the sharp razor slices through my skin like a hot knife through butter.
I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the edge of the tub. The cut burns, but my mind relaxes, a calm washing over me in an instant. The constriction on my chest eases, and I feel like I can breathe a little better now. Everything vanishes from my mind, leaving nothing but momentary silence behind. I invite the peacefulness in, trying to hold on to it as long as I can, but like everything else in my pathetic life, it slips from my fingers.