TW//SELF-HARM

~ALEX~

Its only been about a year since my attempt. After I woke up completely, the only other person in the room was Nate: my only friend. We hadn’t known each other for too long and weren’t super close until after my attempt, after I moved in with him. To this day, I’m not sure why I accepted his offer, maybe I wanted to be close to someone. But everyone I get close to leaves.

I sigh and slump onto my bed. College isn’t really that hard, but when you have 3 part-time jobs on top of it, it is. The only way to keep myself safe is to keep myself busy and distracted, even now I can feel my fingers twitching and my body aching for it. I glance toward my dresser drawers, my biggest secret hidden under my socks. I’m not sure why it’s always the sock drawer, but cliche as it is, it works. It’s tempting, so tempting, but I’m determined to stay clean, for Nate if not myself. From under my pillow, I can hear the dulcet sounds of my ringtone. I quickly picked up, having expected nothing more than a rescheduling for work, but instead, my entire world fell apart.

~

Whenever I cut, it feels like I am in another world. One where I don’t have to feel anything but pure physical pain. All my sorrows drip away, all my anxieties flow from my soul, all my responsibilities soak away. I can only compare it to somewhat of a high, unfortunately, I tend to lose track of time. Before I knew it, I could hear keys jingling in the door, Nate was back. “Shit!” I scrambled up, scanning my room. “How did this even happen?” There was a small pool of blood on my tile floor, maybe the size of the diameter of a soda can. My weapon of choice-a razor blade removed from a pencil sharpener-sat innocently to the side. I retched, the scent of blood unmistakably filling my nose. I grabbed a roll of paper towels left over from painting and mopped it up. My upper thigh was stinging like hell, but I had to hurry. “I guess this will do,” I whispered, wrapping the paper towels around my leg, and fastening it with tape. Another quick scan assured me that all evidence of the past hour was hidden. I threw open my window to air out my room and rushed out the door to meet Nate.

“Alex, give me a hand, would you?” Nate’s face was hidden behind bags of food, our groceries for the week. I stall for a second, not wanting to face him. “Alex?”

His voice brings me back to reality. “Sorry, here” I take two of the bags from him. He looks at me with a slightly pained expression. I can’t even help my friend correctly. The man who has done everything for me. He was the one to nurse me back to health, he got me into therapy, he held my hand as I cried, he is my everything. He’s always accepted me, he was the only one to stay by my side when I came out as gay. Yet all I do is disappoint him, he can never know I cut again, I don’t think I could handle it. “How was your day?” I smile slightly, trying to seem normal.

“It was busy, being a medical intern is a little harder than I thought it would be,” Nate looked exhausted. He was literally perfect, still handsome after working a 9-hour shift. Nate had finished high school at only 16, received his Medical Degree at 20, and had now begun his first year in residency at only 21. His intelligence combined with his striking black hair and warm brown eyes and angelic personality made him LITERALLY PERFECT. I’m not jealous of him like most, but I am in love with him. I don’t think that’s much better though. “Hey, do you want me to make dinner tonight instead? You seem like you need to rest,” Nate peered into my eyes and placed his hand on my forehead.

“What are you doing!?” I jumped back, wincing slightly at the tingle that ran up my leg.

“Checking your temperature,” he laughed, “I really don’t mind making dinner sometimes, you know.”

“I know,” I sighed, “I want to be able to pay you back for all this somehow though, plus I like cooking!” I scowled at his back. I had to fight him to let me pay rent, and even now he just funnels it into grocery funds, which he also doesn’t let me pay my complete share for.

“If you really want to cook dinner, go for it. But please let me know when something’s bothering you, okay?” Nate grabs a textbook and wanders over to the sofa. The way he collapsed told me all I needed to know, I can’t be a burden. I can’t tell him anything.

I almost lose it as I respond to him. “Okay,” my eyes fill with tears, threatening to spill over. I subtly limp into the kitchen to start dinner, hoping the racket will mask my sniffles.