The Girl I Once Loved

Chapter 9

Rafael's POV

"I promised you that I would never take it off," Amara whispered, more into her necklace.

I was shocked. I thought she would want to get rid of that just like she wanted to get rid of me.

"My mom even wanted to force me to take it off. She had managed to take it off of me in the hospital and thrown it in the trash. But I was able to get it back." She said.

"You were in the hospital?" I asked confused.

She sighs and I see her shoulders sag like she has been holding onto something heavy.

"8th grade," She said without looking at me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I just didn't know what was going on.

"Why? Why wasn't I told about this?" I asked. I knew everything about her back then. Nothing could get past either of us. Hell, I even knew about when she started getting her periods.

"My parents think you were the cause of it. I have been denying it ever since because I know that you wouldn't have been the cause for it. You just wouldn't do that to me." She said. I feel like there was an internal battle going on in her head. "They told me that they never wanted me to see or talk to you again. It hurt a lot."

"Why were you in the hospital?" I asked again, a bit harsher. What could I have possibly done to be the blame? Was this the key to understanding why my parents hated me so much?

Amara silently fidgets with her shirt. She looked so conflicted about what to do.

"Mar?" I said in a warning tone. I didn't have patience to deal with this. All I knew from the past few years was pain and loneliness. And here, there were even more people to point the blame at me for causing this, whatever that is. I was frustrated about being in the dark and not being able to defend myself.

What could I have possibly done to her? The girl I love. I had vowed to protect her because she was the sweet, innocent girl. Back then, I knew that it was only her that I ever wanted.

I never thought I would ever hurt her. But right now, that resolve is dissolving. All I am feeling is that pain coming back up. The sense of betrayal.

Amara doesn't say anything. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. She holds out one of her arms, palm facing up. She slowly pulls her sleeve back to reveal her wrist. It is dark out but even in the moonlight, I can see the scars that line her wrist. They have faded but can still be seen.

I sit there dumbfounded. Did she... did she really try to do something?

"That last sleepover we had, I came home. Next thing I remember, I was waking up in the hospital. I guess I was out for 3 days. Then they made me stay there for a week for observation. They kept asking questions, but I wasn't able to answer anything as to what happened. My mom was crying the whole time, telling me that you were at fault. That you drove me to this. I never wanted to believe her. But after seeing you this past week, the way you behaved, I am not so sure I know you anymore."

I didn't know what to say. I felt a pain in my heart from hearing this. The ache of wanting her close. The ache of wanting to take away her pain. I may have hated her for causing this loneliness in my life but I never would do anything to make her do that. I thought back to the beginning of the week. I was cruel to her and that made me hate myself more. I thought it was all innocent and a way to release some of that anger I felt. I should never have done anything like that to her. Now everyone knows how I feel about her, and she probably is now open to bullying from others.

I reached out my hand, my fingers moving to trace her wrist. She flinched and pulled away.

"Sorry, I hate people touching me," She mumbled as she pulled down her sleeve and her arm back to her side.

"Did you really try to...?" I couldn't get the words out. It felt like they just got stuck in my throat.

"Yea," She said, looking back over the water.

"So I can't give you a hug?" I asked. I felt this huge need to pull her in close, to feel her. What is this girl doing to me?

"No," She said sternly. "I should go. You probably came here to be by yourself." She left without saying much else. I was shocked. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want her to leave so soon but I couldn't move to stop her.

Could I really have caused her to want to take her own life? I remember that sleep over was just like any others. We stayed up late watching movies. Mom made pancakes in the morning. Amara didn't eat much but she said that she didn't get much sleep the night before. It was nothing new. For some reason, she didn't get much sleep at my house. I always thought it was being in a different environment. Though we had plenty, you would think she was used to being at my house at some point.

But I was a kid, I didn't think much about it. Though I still felt this need to protect her.

This hopelessness feeling crept over me. I wasn't there for her when she needed me. I let her down. I didn't see her struggling that she would do something like that. I feel like a bad best friend.

Aren't there signs you should be seeing to know that it could happen? Why didn't I see any?

Was that why my parents were so mad at me? That I somehow did something to Amara to cause her to do that? It felt like some kind of sick joke. Mom knew how protective I was of her. Like when we went to play with the neighborhood kids. I fought anyone who would try to hurt Amara. Yet she said I was a disappointment. She can no longer look at me.

And I don't know what my dad's deal was. It still didn't make any sense as to why he beat me up as if I had done something to Amara. And then, on top of that, become a drunk.

Anger started to rise up in me. No one was explaining anything to me, and it was as if they thought I was better left in the dark. That it was not even worth me defending myself. To hell with them all.

I grabbed one of the cans from my pocket and cracked it open. I started chugging it. I didn't want to be feeling anything right now. I needed it to all go away.

I finished that can and went for another. I chugged them all so fast that I was soon done with them and wanting more. I wanted this feeling to go away. It was like all the other times but stronger this time. I wanted to stop feeling anything.

As if my body knew where I wanted to go, my feet started moving towards the only place I knew where there would be more booze.

I needed to get wasted.