The Difference Between Fear and Terror

Untitled Part 47

I begin to regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. I'm not doing this for me. He doesn't deserve what he is putting himself through, and I, well I think I caused it.

I think I know what those little silver lines on his wrists are. I hope I'm wrong.

I scoot over, lying back on my bed, leaving room for him. The bed sinks as he sinks in.

I stare at him and he stares at me and once again we wait each other out. Neither of us wants to start he inevitable conversation.

I break. I gently grab his wrist and trace one of the scars. The sight of it brings tears to my eyes.

"Why?" I ask so softly I barely hear myself. He heard me though. He definitely heard me. "I'll say if you say?"

"You first." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry." I motion for him to go on, but an incredible guilt fills his eyes that tears my heart in two. "I'm so sorry," he repeats. A tear breaks free from his eye and rolls its way down his cheek.

I wrap my arm around his back, pulling him into me. "You have nothing to be sorry for." Anger replaces some of the guilt. "You're wrong. I have everything to be sorry for." He runs his hand down my hair and turns me so my back meets his chest, "I should have protected you. It's my fault this happened. It's my fault. All of this."

I jerk myself out of his arms so I can meet his eyes. "No. You are not allowed to blame yourself for this. My own stupidity did this to me." A wave of calm rushes over him. I can feel his mood change slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asks. "I mean I should have been more careful. I did just about everything you all have ever told me not to do." His lip tilts a bit in a smirk. "Well, last time I checked, you didn't drink three bottle of vodka in one sitting or use crystal meth, so you didn't do everything we told you not to do."

I can't help it. I giggle. The mood is lightened before his next question sends it crashing back down. "Your turn?"

"When I was there, in that closet, I lost track of time. I lost track of life. I didn't know if I was alive. I had no sensation. I had no sight. I couldn't hear. For all I knew I was dead. The only time I was sure I was alive was when I was being punished." He pulls me back into his arms, burying his nose into my hair. "What does that have to do with you burning yourself?"

"I needed the pain to know I was alive." He places a kiss on my forehead. "Key word there is needed, not need. You aren't ever doing that again." Even though his tone is more playful and happy than before I can tell he is dead serious. "I won't if you don't. You aren't doing it again either."

"Deal. Want me to leave?" I pull him closer. "Sleep with me."