Addition ( I )

I lay awake in my dark room, staring at the ceiling and regretting what I’ve done. I feel sick to my stomach as I turn and look at the dim outline of the empty beer bottles strewn on the bed side table, the bloody razor. 1

I could hear the echoes in my head but I couldn’t make out the words of my friends…I’m not numb yet…2

I grab the razor again, sliding it over my arm. Little crimson beads of pain surface, freezing at the line. I fit the razor into the line, drawing blood again, again, again. I feel a slight pull, but no pain…I coax the blood to run down my arm, already stained rust red. I allow it to stop itself of its own accord, watching blood drop onto paper. 3

Drip…drip…4

Fail…ure…5

..drip…drip..6

crash7

∞8

Waking up is hell. 9

Everything hurts. 10

My eyes hurt to open, my head pounding, my arms throbbing, and my stomach a tight knot. 11

I dispose of the bloodied paper and the bottles, wash the razor and carefully fold it into a bit of fabric, storing it in my drawer. 12

I lost track of the days somehow and it end up being Monday. So I have to act like I am perfectly fine and somehow make it through the school day. 13

Thankfully, I’m an actress. 14

Gently, I rub off the dried blood with a wet paper towel, then antibiotic cream…next, I bandage my wounds…last, I pull on gloves that extend to my elbows, to hide scars, scabs and fresh cuts.15

I pour some vodka in a glass, top it off with orange and cranberry juice, and stir it with one finger.16

”Hair on the dog” I mutter, and drink it all in one gulp. I make another--stronger-- one and grab my purse and book bag and head out the door. 17

I get into my old beat up car, realize I had forgotten my instrument. Shit. For a good solid x amount of minutes I debate whether to go get it or not, finally getting off my ass and putting it in the back. 18

I start the Beatle and give a little moan as a cold iron wedge is driven into the center of my forehead. 19

My eye caught my reflection in the vanity mirror when I pull the visor down to block the bright September sun. I look horrible. 20

My hair is a mess. The cap I had jammed on my head didn’t conceal the fact my short brown hair is bedraggled and untidy. 21

There are black circles under my bloodshot eyes and I look pale…well, more than usual, anyway... Once inside the bars of the high school’s cage, I lined my eyes black, and painted my lips red. In my mind, I slid a mask onto my face, tying the ribbons snug behind my head. 22

I walked the miles of black tar to the orchestra room, sliding my precious viola into my cubby, locking it up.23

I wandered around the school, looking for a quiet place….but as always, none of the places I found were quiet or secluded enough. I settled for a bench on a more abandoned side of the school, sitting cross legged. I pulled my thick sketch book from my bag, flipping to a blank page. While rummaging through my purse for a pencil, tiny sparrows hopped along the quiet sidewalk and bathed in ever-present pools of water. I decided to draw them while the tiny birds were so close. While I was focused on perfecting the pattern of the feathers, I felt a sudden weight on my arm, and six pressure points. One of the birds had landed on my forearm, studying my work with flighty jerks of its head. The sparrow looked up at me with its black beady eyes, and then flew off as quickly as it had come. 24

I suddenly remembered that sparrows, according to a Stephen King book, were viewed as guides to the dead. 25

”Sorry, sparrow…I’m not dead yet…” I whispered hoarsely. 26

”Honey!” 27

I jumped, having grown accustomed to the silence and quiet bird-noises. I looked up at the figure running towards me through the hangover’s haze. The sparrows that had been hopping about suddenly flew away in a cloud. 28

Finally registering the person coming towards me, I watch him run in slow motion, his long jacket flying out behind him, chains on his pants jingling and his short hair lifting off his forehead. He fights through the fog to me and envelopes me in his arms, smelling clean, feeling solid. 29

”I’ve been looking everywhere for you, hon. I thought you were sick…Or skipping…or something…” he says so softly in my ear. 30

My leaden arms wrap around his waist, pulling myself into his lap. 31

”No, I’m here.” I say quietly, words mushing together. The tenderness drops from his voice once he smells depression and alcohol. 32

”Hun….” 33

I look up to my boyfriend, his hazel eyes full of hurt. Disappointment. Sadness. Anger. He releases me, pushing my legs off his lap. Somewhere in my mind this is sharp, painful…but now I can’t feel anything. 34

“You promised...” 35

I think he’s yelling…I can’t hear…Black water closes over my vision, pulling me into the dark...the cold…36

“You promised…” 37

∞38

I’m in the light again. A cool something is pressed to my closed eyelids, sliding over my face to my neck. I force my eyelids open, a laborious task. 39

”You scared me…You didn’t take anything illegal, did you?” The blue eyes bored into my soul…I tried to remember…Did I? 40

”No.” 41

”Here, let me help you sit up…” Lance wraps an arm around my waist, gingerly lifting me. My limbs feel naked, cuts stinging. 42

”Where’s my gloves? Why’d you take them off?” I say in a hurried whisper, eyes darting. No one must see…I can’t have my mask slip…43

“I thought you might have lost too much blood, or something…So I checked to see how deep they were.” he says, a touch of bitterness in his voice. 44

”Oh…” 45

He gently took my arm, careful not to touch any of the stinging marks…it hurt anyway. I hiss through my teeth as he slides my gloves on for me. 46

”Thanks…” 47

”Welcome.” 48

The bell rings, a shrill, harsh sound that sends tremors down my spine and sets my brain on fire. I let out a small sound, burying my face in Lance’s chest. I know he’s disappointed in me, but he strokes the back of my neck regardless. 49

∞50

The entire day went by in a blur. 51

I remember digging a large hole into the ground and lowering myself inside it, looking up at the world through the dust covered windows of depression. 52

Sounds from the outside were muted murmurings….the sounds inside were my screams. 53

My nerves were numb, my sight clouded. 54

I felt only pain from inside my catacomb. Despite the stinging sadness I longed for the bottle, the razor. 55

∞56

“I’d be dead, if it wasn’t for you. You know that, right, Lance?” 57

”No you wouldn’t, hun.” 58

”Yes, I would. I’d be dead a long time ago. Do you know what stops me from committing suicide?”59

”You’re strong. Its nothing I’ve done.” 60

”Its you. Everytime I think of suicide I think of you and I can’t pull the trigger.” 61

“….How often do you think of suicide?”62

“Every. Day.” 63

“……”64

”What?”65

”You are so incredibly strong…” 66

”No, I’m not. I’m weak.” 67

”If you were weak you would be dead, regardless of me. You wouldn’t care. You would just kill yourself. You just can’t admit to yourself how strong you are. ” 68

”Shut up! I AM WEAK!” 69

”No you aren’t!” 70

”The scars on my arms say different.” 71

”I don’t care about their opinion. Why can’t you accept a compliment?”72

”I don’t deserve them.” 73

”You are the most deserving person of a compliment I know. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, strong, talented—“ 74

”Stop! I’m none of those things! I’m a failure!” 75

”Why?” 76

”WHY?! LOOK AT ME!” 77

”I see an angel.” 78

”I’m broken.” 79

“Can I fix you?” 80

”Can you?” 81

∞82

The fire in my heart burns for a good hour more, angry at myself. Once I calm down, Lance and I lay on my bed, speaking through our skin, delicately touching fingertips to stomachs, chests, hair…This lasts for days. Our legs are entangled, intimately entwined with each other. 83

Lance caresses the sensitive skin on the back of my neck, making my toes curl and my muscles relax. 84

His warmth seeped through my goosebump-covered skin, lulling me into sleep. My eyelids slowly drooped closed, drifting off into dreamland. 85

I sigh softly into his chest…86

”Baby…” 87

”Yes, hun?” his fingers pushed gently into my hair, my scalp tingling with pleasure. 88

”I’m sorry…” 89

”I forgive you…Sleep, now…I love you.” 90

I mumbled almost incoherently91

”Forever…I love you too…” 92

He gently kissed my lips. 93

”Sleep, now.” he cooed, and I obeyed. 94

∞95

How did I get into this? 96

What was the first time? 97

oh...I was tweleve. I think. 98

I was upset...about who knows what. And I wanted something to make me numb...99

I found the bottle. 100

But it wasn't enough. 101

Its never enough.102