Blood Stains and Burn Marks

Chapter 13

Tate runs out of the cafeteria. Now I know all eyes on are me. I can't believe I said that. Especially to Tate. I run after him, following him down the dark corridors. But it's no use. He can out run me in no time. I try to stay close but he's gone in a blink of a eye. The full force of what I've said is all coming back to me. Tears threaten to flow over my eyes but I don't let them. Not here. I spend several more hours searching for a boy who doesn't want to be found. After no results I head back to our room. Eyes glaze at me as I walk back but it's the last thing on my mind. I ruined everything once again. Ruined it with my thoughts. My emotions. When will I realize that I'm not the only one who feels things? Not the only one who cries themselves to sleep because they don't feel like they're worth a goddamn thing. I sit on my bed and cry. Because it's the last thing I know how to do properly.

***

I don't know what time he comes back but it's late. Extremely late. Curfew was hours ago and not a single light is left on expect for ours. I wasn't sure if I should leave it on or not, seeing as I wasn't sure if he'd ever come back. But there he is. Face flustered but stern. It's like there's no emotion left inside of him. Like he's grown cold. And maybe he was always fighting this darkness. Always tried hard to save himself. Keep himself to the light. But at times he snapped and he turned bad. But maybe this time, he didn't have a reason to come back. Didn't have a reason to change he use to be. Maybe I lost Tate in more reasons than one. Lost him as a friend. As a lover. And as a person. And I don't know if it's possible to get him back.

"Tate listen I'm-" But it's no use. The words fall out of my mouth so clumsily and he just pushes them aside as if they meant nothing. And I guess they really didn't. Because why would anything that I say matter anymore? I hurt him in the most painfullest way possible. And nothing that I say will ever take that scar away.

He glances over at me once and I see it. I see the hurt in his eyes. The devastation. The blame. I see the regret. He probably regrets ever meeting me. Ever looking at me. Ever talking to me. Ever giving me the time of day. Because goddammit I never deserved it. And out of all of this, I know one thing; I regret meeting him. Not because he's a bad person, because truly he's not. But I am. And he deserves so much better.

It's not long after that I hear Tate's soft breathes escape his lips. Small snores fall from his bed onto mine. This is the first time in a long time that I've had to sleep alone, and it's the first time in a long time I've felt the full force of the winter's brutal nights. Part of me what's to go up there and ask if I can crawl in with him. I already know his answer will be no, or a push away, so there's really no point. But the cold has twisted my brain and I'd do next to nothing for heat right now. And the other part of me wants to just crawl up there and beg for a second chance, because it's the first time in my life that I actually felt sorry. That I actually regretted something I had done. I was rather use to the idea of using boys, proclaiming fake love, and playing with their hearts like strings on a toy, until I got bored and move onto the next. Leaving them bruised, beaten and alone. But Tate, Tate was so much different. And regardless of how dangerous he was I wanted him. And the scary thing is I would do anything to get him.

I lied in bed for several more hours. Sleep seemed almost pointless now. I watched the moon float amongst the stars, and tried to find a reason for each as to why I needed Tate back. But try hard as I could, I only came up with one. One reason that seemed to out weight the rest. I was in love with Tate. And I knew exactly what I had to do to get him back. And I knew I was going to do it at all cost.