Not To Give Away The Ending, But It's Gonna Be Okay.

Chapter 9

(TRIGGER WARNING)
I was too sad, though. I'd messed up. I put myself through the pain. I should've just said no...but then I would've hurt Patrick... I was just so mad at myself.
Maybe Jen has some razors... I thought.
"I'll be right back," I said, pushing myself up.
"Is there something you need?" Patrick asked.
"No, I got it. Thanks, though." I walked quickly to Jen's room.
Am I really doing this? What if Patrick finds out?
I walked into Jen's room and looked through her drawers quietly and quickly. I found a small box that looked like something that would hold a necklace and rattled when I shook it. I opened it quickly and saw three razors.
I took one out and held it in my hand as I walked to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and locked it, sitting down on the toilet lid. I rolled up the left sleeve of Patrick's sweater and immediately cut into my wrist. The sight of the blood pleased me sickly. I made another cut, this one right above the other one. They bled for a few seconds, and I pinched the skin around them to make them bleed more.
I deserve this, I thought to myself.
I made one more cut before standing up and flushing the toilet to make it look like I had actually used the bathroom. I walked to the sink and turned on the water, setting the razor down on the counter, opened the medicine cabinet, and found a bandaid.
My arm burned, and I relished in the pain. I washed off the blood and put the bandaid on my arm, grimacing as I pushed down. I shut off the water and pulled down the sweater sleeve, walking out of the bathroom.
"Can I get a drink?" I asked Patrick as I walked into the living room.
"Sure. Soda's in the fridge."
I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge, examining the sodas. I searched for a diet Coke and finally found one. I walked back to the living room, opening the soda.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Almost twelve," he said, sitting up. "Do you want to go to bed?"
I was kind of tired, but I probably wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.
"I guess."
"Okay." Patrick stands up, smiling at me. "I'll be right back," he continues, walking out of the living room. "You can sleep in Jen's room, if you want...or..." He left the last part hanging in the air for me to complete. Then he was gone.
I smiled to myself at the thought of sharing a bed with Patrick. I drank about half of the soda, still smiling like an idiot, and put it in the fridge. I heard the toilet flush and I started to walk back to Patrick's room. I heard the faucet turn on, after a few seconds it went off, but the door didn't open for a few seconds.
I decided to just wait for him, but after a full minute of just sitting on his bed, I grew impatient and got up. I walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door.
"Pat? You okay?"
The door opened immediately. Patrick's cheeks were red, and there were tears in his eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"What's this?" He asked, his voice cracking. He held up something small in his hand.
The razor.
I forgot to put it back in Jen's room.
No. Oh no.
"Y/N. Tell me what's going on." His voice was firm, yet on the verge of tears.
"I found it in Jen's room," I explained quickly.
"What? Where was it?
"In a drawer in her desk."
"Why were you in her desk?!" He asked angrily. The edge in his voice scared me.
"I was looking for something." Tears welled up in my own eyes.
"What were you looking for?"
I didn't answer.
"Tell me."
I shook my head and whispered, "Can we just go to bed please?"
Patrick seemed to give up. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to him. I put my arms around him, holding him there and crying into his shoulder.
"I'm sorry." I whispered.
"Did you cut?" He asked, pulling back, his hands on my shoulders.
He stared into my eyes, and I could read the pleading on his face. He deserved to know...
I pulled up my sleeve, knowing he'd want to see the scars anyway. I gently stripped away the bandages, exposing the scars. Patrick's hands dropped from my shoulders.
"Why did you do it? Why were you upset?" He asked, staring at my arm.
"For...I guess saying yes to the movie. For putting myself through that pain."
"So you put yourself through more pain?" His voice was getting angry again.
I fixed the bandages and pulled down my sleeve.
"I'm sorry, Patrick. Can we just go to bed?"
"No!" He exclaimed. "We have to work this out!" He threw his hands in the air. "I can't stand to see you sad!" He looked down and whispered. "I can't stand it."
I walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"'Trick, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't've, I just...I couldn't help myself."
When he looked up at me, his eyes were red. I hated myself even more for making him cry.
"I'm sorry Patrick, I'm so so sorry. If I'd known it would've hurt you so much..."
"I don't want you to not do it just for me," he said quietly. "I want you to stop for yourself. I want you to realize that you are the most amazing, beautiful, perfect girl I've ever met."
I looked down.
"Don't lie to me." I said quietly.
"Okay, it's not a lie, but how about this-you are the most erratic, reckless, imperfect girl I've ever met. And I love you for it." He sniffled and smiled slightly.