Honest

forty-two

Desiree

I seek him through the halls if the large house. I find my way to his bedroom, opening the door.

As if he could get rid of me that easily.

"I thought you loved that other girl," I blurted.

He looks up at me, not really questioning my presence.

"What other girl?"

I roll my eyes. "The one you were kissing."

He looks at me confused.

"You know....when I left."

"Oh, her!"

"It's just-I left. And you didn't come after me. You stayed there with her, so I thought-"

"That I loved her?" He finished incredulously. "No! I felt sorry for her. I knew her a while back. She has some issues y'know."

"But you stayed with her."

He sighs. "Damn it, I love you. Not her. Never her. You...were supposed to leave? Why are you still here?"

"I told you. I'm staying with you now. You're my boyfriend."

He scoffs. "No, no. This is like when I kissed her. Because I saw her scars, and her big eyes, and I thought she'd jump off a f*****g bridge and I didn't. It's pity-"

"I don't feel pity," I spit. "Especially not for you."

"Why not?"

"Because you are an intelligent, caring, attractive, powerful man in his prime, with the world ahead of you. And you have some issues, but don't we all, right?"

He smiles smally.

"There's something wrong me. And you need to leave. Now."

I grit my teeth, taking out my gun. "Say it again." I dare him. "Say it, and I'll shoot you."

He scoffs. "You won't shoot me," He rolls his eyes nonchalantly.

I raise a brow.

He stops. "Will you?"

"Do not tell me to leave. I'm staying here with you until I want to leave."

He swallows. "No you're not. Listen, I'm not a good place right now, little one. So go. Go home."

I pull the trigger. The bullet rings, piercing his arm. He'll be fine.

"Um...fucking ow? That s**t hurts y'know!"

I shrug. "Then don't say things that piss me off. That feel like pity? I can do it again, if you want-"

"No!" he thrusts his hand out, wincing. "That is...above my preferred pain limit."

"You just cut yourself. It's not as bad, right?"

He looks away.

"Maybe I should do it."

He snaps his neck toward me. "What did you say?"

I take out my small hunting knife. "I said maybe I should do it. How many cuts do you have?"

I peek over the covers. Five.

I cut five small lines, taking care to avoid any promient veins.

"Hey! What the f**k are you doing?"

I turn my wrists upside down. We both watch me bleed in silence.

"You're right. It's not so bad."

"Wht would you do that yourself," He breathes frantically.

I watch the blood drip. "How does it feel? That's blood. That's my life force, wasted on the floor. How does it feel, to watch me die a little. Just a little."

He looks absolutely horrified. Good.

"Come here, we need take care of it."

I don't move. "The next time you that you hurt yourself, I'm going to do what you do to your body to mine. We're a couple now, and couples do everything together. Right?"

"You're insane. Come here, right now," He Yanks me in the bed, setting me down, wiping the cuts down, with a peroxide.

He meticulously blows as the bubbles form on the small wound.

Then rubs some cream on it, a little furrow between his brow, as he looks up at me every one in a while to see if I'm in pain.

I smile. "Were you this attentive to yourself?"

He looks up at me. "I don't think I love me, as much as I love you."

I nod. "Then we'll work on that. For now, let's lay down, and go to sleep. Okay?"

He swallows, nodding.

I turn the lights off, snuggling under the covers with him.

He's not asleep and neither am I, but we don't speak.

"Don't..." He mumbled the rest.

"What?" I whisper.

He takes my hand. "Don't ever bleed for me again. Ever."

"Then don't me bleed. Because...when you bleed, I bleed. And you know that the worst worst place to bleed from is your heart."

• • •

I do not endorse cutting. Please, don't cut. I love you. I hope that this chapter doesn't make what you're going through worse.

Love, Michaela.

PS. I HATE MY REAL NAME SO MUCH ASDFGHKL