I laid there on the white bed sheets of the hospital. I stared at the ceiling and thought back on my life. How did I get here? What happened to me? The ceiling began to project my past.
When I was 4, everything was perfect. I was the girl with big blue eyes and long blonde pigtails. I had a mother and father that loved each other and me. My older brother, Kevin, was my best friend. But two years later, my mom and Kevin died in a car crash. An elderly man had a heart attack while he was driving and he hit them. My mother was killed on impact and my brother died on the way to the hospital. Kevin was only 9. Then it was just me and my dad. He threw himself into his work. Only his architecture mattered. We moved and changed schools. We moved from New York to Los Angeles.
I grew up without a mother figure to teach me about girl stuff. In middle school my friends helped me with the hair and makeup stuff. They would go shopping with me. But I preferred to be with my guy friends. They were less bitching and they didn’t try to pry things out of you.
At the beginning of high school, I had some friends. But they were the kind of friends parents don't approve of. We were what people called the 'Scene/emo/stoner group'. We sometimes smoked weed. I would occasionally cut myself. Our group was Jon, Dana, Kate, Nick, Eric, and Ty. Ty was my best friend. He was always there for me. He understood what I was going through. His parents died of an overdose when he was 5.
During junior year, Ty pulled up in front of my house. He had long black hair and brown eyes. Chris, get in the car," I heard him yell from outside my house. I was putting on some eyeliner. I finished and started to walk down the steps. "Christina, get your ass in this car."
I ran down the stairs and jumped into his car, "Alright, I'm here. Now stop freaking out." I looked at him as he drives. I loved him. He was always there for me through my hard days. Ty had a hard life as well. So, he got it; he got me. He lives with his aunt and her constantly changing boyfriends. Somehow he never fails to make me feel better.
We got to school and Ty and I walked to our corner. It was at the far back side of the school. We sit down with the whole gang and talked. Everyone wants to go to Nick's after school to smoke some weed. I can't go because my dad grounded me. I failed my Spanish test 2 days ago. Classes were boring. I only had one class with Ty and the whole time we spent talking and giggling. I was Spanish, hence the bad grade in it. I paid more attention to Ty, than the teacher. Ty sat next to me, since we were allowed to pick or seats. Every day, he spent to class time twirling my hair in his fingers and making jokes.
After school when Ty drove me home, he was silent. Something happened, but I didn't ask. I would ask tomorrow when he cools down. Tomorrow, he probably will feel more like talking about it. We pulled up to my house. As I was just about to get out, Ty grabbed my hand. He pulled me into a hug and I squeezed him back. I kissed his cheek and got out of the car.
In my room, I changed into a tank top and shorts. I decided to screw my homework and just listen to some music. At 9:43 Ty called me. "Hello, Ty, what's up?" I asked through the phone. I hoped he was going to open up about what happened to day.
"Chris, you have always been there for me and you're my best friend. This isn't your fault. And right now I want to tell you something, something I've always wanted to tell you. And now I won’t have any time to regret this. Chris when I first saw you, I thought you were an angel. Ever since then you proved that you were one. You helped make everything bearable. I love you. I always have and I thought you should know before."
"Ty, I-" the phone clicked off. I love you. I called him back, but he didn't answer. I texted him 13 times, "I love you." He said that it wasn't my fault and that he wouldn't have time to regret... He was going to kill himself.
I ran downstairs and out the door. His house was only about a mile away from mine. I ran the mile bare foot to his house. It hurt my feet like hell, but it would be worth it. I ran up to the light brown house. I got to the red front door. It was locked. I ran to the back door and it was open. I ran up the stairs, screaming his name. I opened his door.
Ty was lying on his bed. His wrists were cut and there was so much blood. Tears sprung to my eyes. I screamed, "Ty, get up! I love you! Get up, I need you!" I ran to him and put my head on his chest. I couldn't hear anything. I tried in vain to find a pulse on his neck. I kissed him, but his lips were cold and unmoving. I pulled back and whispered, “I love you, and I'm so so sorry I wasn't there."
I laid there with him. I cried on his chest until his aunt came home. She simply stared at him and gasped and left the room. She made me leave him, which took so doing. I went home and cried more.
In the morning, I ran out of tears. I couldn't cry; I could only stare at the wall with this empty feeling in my chest. I didn't go to school that day. I moped around all day. That night I stared at my razor blades and chose. I grabbed them and ran it over each of my wrists. I cut very deep, hitting a vein. As my vision blurred, my dad came in and saw me. He pressed his hands to my cuts and everything went to black.
After a little less than a week in the actual hospital, I was taken to a mental hospital. I didn't talk there. I didn't want to. I still didn't want to exist. About two days after I arrived there, I finally got out of the bed and went to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. My makeup was a mess and my white striped sweater was crooked. My blonde hair was messily curled.
"Fuck it. Fuck everyone." I said and left the bathroom.
I spent three weeks in the mental hospital before being released.
For the next year after being released, I was in therapy. I still cut, even more than before. I cut my waist, so my therapist can't see them.
I got to my session early and had to wait in the waiting room. On the couch was a guy about my age. He had blonde hair and green eyes. I could tell that he was really tall, even though he was sitting down.
The couch was small so I had to sit down right next to him, so close we were touching. He looked at me. "I'm Matt," his voice was deep and smooth. I didn’t know why he was talking to me.
"Chris. It's short for Christina. So then what are you here for?" I asked him. I was awkward.
"Um... That's not really the kind of question you ask to first get to know a person." Matt said and rubbed his neck.
"Well, last year my best friend killed himself, and then I tried to do the same and bam therapy." I said nonchalantly. I thought that it would shut him up.
He rubbed his neck again and this time I saw the scars and cuts. "I just self-harm."
I pushed some of my blonde hair out of my face. I set my hand back down on the couch next to his, so that our fingers were touching. His hand clasped over mine and he started to rub the back of my hand.
"I’m sorry about your friend." he said, sincerely.
"Thanks, so what made you go over the top I guess?" I said.
“Um, just parents are awful. They are divorced and all they do is fight over money. That all they ever did. They didn’t notice that my younger sister was depressed. She had been raped by a boy at her school. I noticed, but she wouldn’t let me help her. She was too scared of him to do anything. I made her go to therapy, but I didn’t know what was happening at her school. She hung herself, because I couldn’t do more for her, because I didn’t stop her in time.” His eyes were watering.
“I didn’t make it in time either.” I whispered.
“I don’t know why I told you all that. I just feel like I can trust you, like you can understand this.” He looks down, like he’s lost in thought. “She was only 14.” Tears stream down his face slowly.
I lifted my hand and stopped them. “It will get better, I don’t know when. It has been a year for me and it still hurts, but one day, I like to believe it gets better.” One final tear left his eye. I kissed the spot on his cheek were the tear was.
“Look, I want to be honest with you. I don’t want to walk out of here and never see you again and never feel as safe as I do with you right now. I don’t want to sound too forward or pushy, but do you want to go get some coffee or something as friends. I just want to talk with you more.”
“Sure, I’d like that. I like talking to you.” I said and I could help the butterflies in my stomach. This is the most normal I’ve felt in months.
I don't know what will happen next. Or if I'll ever be able to forget Ty. I don't know if I'll ever be better. I think that Matt will be a big part of that, though. He may be the one to save me; the one to shake me and tell me to wake up. Nothing is what I expected. But I think it is better this way.
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