**

The Sun’s anger burns

Hot enough to scorch the self

Earth’s waves kiss the wound

**

I stood stock still in front of the bathroom mirror, clenching the cheap ceramic as if it was the last solid object on earth. My knuckles turned white from the pressure. I just needed something to hold me in place, to keep me steady. I inhaled, exhaled, inhaled again. One, two, three, four, five in. One, two, three, four, five out. Only a few more hours. I can do this. I’m no pussy. I can do this. I can. I can. 

As it turned out, I could not. My head started throbbing, and my chest felt tighter than a casket. My vision blurred. My pulse sounded like a bass poorly played in my cochlea. Panic attack. Again. 

I just need a minute, just a minute to catch my breath, that’s all. I could hardly hear my own thoughts as I shoved open the bathroom door and stumbled into the hallway. Every voice sounded like a fog horn, every slammed locker an earthquake, the too-white lights felt like an onslaught by the sun itself. 

I just need quiet. Please just someplace quiet and dark, and god damn it will you just shut up. I bumped into someone's shoulder, momentarily shaking myself from my spiraling thoughts long enough to apologize. 

“Emil? Are you ok?” The voice sounded as if it was both a mile away and inside my head at the same time. She placed a hand on my chest. 

“Hun, you don’t look so good.” Of course, it had to be one of her friends. Of course.

“Don’t touch me.” I removed her hand roughly and turned away, searching for somewhere, anywhere. The fire stairs, thank god. 

I found myself nearly at the top of the stairs, a flight below those that lead to the roof. I braced myself against the wall, before shakily descending into a squat against it.

I hate this. I opened my bag.

I hate them. I removed the pocket knife my dad had given me for my fourteenth birthday. 

I just want to be left alone. I pulled up a leg of my shorts to reveal a cluster of slashes, both deep and superficial, lining my thigh. 

Just leave me alone.

The door at the top of the stairs swung open. 

Seth Radley stumbled forward, looking confused and distant. His eyes met mine. I yanked the hem of my shorts down. 

“You ok?” 

“Fuck off, 8-ball!” I spoke far more aggressively than I intended, more of a bark than a request. Seth’s facial expression immediately seemed to shut down. He flicked up his hood and walked around me and down the stairs without even glancing in my direction again. I almost felt bad. 

As soon as Seth disappeared from view, I relaxed against the wall again, my head pressed against it, my eyes falling closed. My breathing had steadied considerably, as had my heartbeat. I ought to have thanked him for the momentary distraction. 

“Hey.” I had been about to let loose a sigh of relief, when I was forced to pull it back in surprise. My eyes shot open and I was met with the figure of a woman. Well, a girl would be more apt, as she looked about my age. Her curly blond hair was pulled back in a precarious bun, and her clothes were speckled in a fine layer of paint and ink. An art dork. Great. 

“Don’t be a dick. I’m sure you can tell he doesn’t like being called that,” the girl chided, like a disappointed mother. She then slid down the wall to sit beside me. I scooted away and she gave me my space. 

“Everyone calls him that. I hardly remember his actual name anymore,” I lied. She chuckled a bit under her breath, before turning to look at me. Her gaze ran across me like a laser, seemingly analyzing every inch. She paused at my face, eyes glittering curiously. 

“You’ve got some weird eyes,” I said, scooching away in an attempt to shake her gaze. She laughed at that. Her laugh was weird as well. She sounded like a pig, in a cute way I guess. 

“Not the first time I’ve heard that today, believe it or not,” she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Anyway, I don’t mean to pry, but what’s with the cuts, kid?” I grabbed the hem of my shorts and pulled it down even further, though evidently the damage had been done. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, come on. Seth may not have seen them, but I did. So, spill. Why do you do it?” The nonchalant way she spoke caught me off guard. Most of my friends would just tell me to go to therapy, or something else that was way out of my price range. 

“I’m not like that. I’m not, like, depressed or want attention or anything.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” she interrupted, glancing at me from behind dark, heavy lashes. “Everyone has their reasons, I’m just curious to know yours.” The way she said that made it sound more like an offer than anything else, as if she was simply giving me the opportunity to share. Fuck it, who cares?

“I get angry, like, a lot. I get stressed out and get these stupid panic attacks, and I can’t take it out on anyone else because then I’ll get expelled and, I don’t know, this helps, sometimes, I guess. Better to hurt yourself then someone else, anyway.” I spoke in a rush, half expecting her to just awkwardly say, “Damn, that’s rough,” and find some excuse to walk away. 

“What makes you so angry? If you don’t mind my asking.” Her genuine interest pulled on something inside me, like a kid tugging my sleeve. 

“A lot of stuff. My dad died a couple years back, and my mom wants me to get into a good college to get a well-paying job so I can take care of her or whatever. She cares about my grades more than anything. It’s just a lot of pressure I guess. And um,” I hesitated then, tripping over my own words before willing myself to continue.

“And my girl, my ex-girlfriend, Zoey, she leaked my uh, my nudes to the school. We’d been together for like a year. She’s a pretty public person, but I never thought she’d do that. Anyway, she sent it to her bitch friends, and they sent it to everyone else and, well, you know how it goes.” The girl nodded, her expression unreadable. 

“Anyway, I broke up with her not long after, but I still went to parties with people she knew. She had a lot of older friends, in college and uh, apparently, they’d seen the pictures of me too. So, I was wasted at one of those college parties, practically comatose in one of the rooms upstairs, trying my fucking best not to puke, when some of her friends found me. They uh, they,” I felt pain spark behind my eyes, a latent threat of tears. I glanced at the girl, and realized her rainbow eyes were glued to me as well. I could tell she knew what I was going to say. I didn’t need to continue, it was redundant. But for some reason, the words just kept spilling out like my vomit had the following morning. 

“They started feeling me up, and I was completely fucked. I couldn’t see straight, much less do anything about it. I don’t really remember much, honestly. Just their hands and the smell of shitty beer.” 

“Do you remember their faces? Their names?” The girl asked, voice rich with emotion. 

“A few, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t do anything about it. No one would, no one…”

“No one would believe you?” 

“Yeah.” 

She sat there for a moment in silence, staring off into nothing in particular. Her eyes were pensive and tense, eyebrows arched in an expression I couldn’t quite read. 

“I know saying ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t really mean anything,” she said, breaking the stiff silence. “But just know I hear you, and I promise you, kid, it does get better.” 

Something slick dripped down my cheek to land on my knee with a small splash. Shit. I scrubbed at my eyes furiously, as if attempting to force the tears back in. They stubbornly refused, instead falling faster. Through the watery sheen I saw the girl stretch out her hand, as if to comfort me, before drawing it back. She sat quietly, allowing my poorly muffled sobs to fill the stairway. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I curled in on myself, hiding my face in my knees. 

She stayed there with me until I reined myself back in. It was then I realized the time, rather how much time had already passed.  

“Oh crap, I’m so late. Mr. Kinsley is going to kill me!” I stood sharply, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go, and you should too, I didn’t want to make you late,” I said to the girl, holding out my hand to help her up. She glanced at it for a moment, considering, before shaking her head. 

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m actually student council president, I can say I was wrapped up in ‘official business’ or something.” She shot me a wry smile. 

Great, I just broke down in front of the student council president.

“Alright, if you say so. And thanks. You really helped. I haven’t cried like that in, well, in a very long time.” 

“It felt good?” 

I smiled. It was almost as if this girl could read my mind. “Yeah, yeah it did. By the way, I’m Emilio,” I said, realizing I’d never told her my name. She deserved at least that much after the emotional oil dumping. 

“Nice to meet you, Emilio. I’m Daphne Halloway, but you can call me Daph.” She stood as she spoke, walking up the first couple steps to the roof. 

“Nice to meet you too, Daph. I’ll be seeing you around, yeah?” 

“Yeah maybe, if you apologize to Seth. The two of you have more in common than you’d think,” she said with a wink, ascending a few more steps. 

“Fine,” I agreed, surprising myself with my lack of hesitation, “Will do. And thanks again!” I said, before sprinting down the stairs myself, my sneakers making a loud clang on the porous metal. If I hadn’t been so anxious to get to class, I would’ve noticed how in all that time, I never heard a single one of her footsteps.