I'm Not Bulletproof

I hold the razor blade in the palm of my hand and ponder on what I should do with it.

But I know what I am not going to do. I’m not going to stand back and watch my friend destroy himself. I need to confront Alexi about my findings; I just don’t know how to do it. I’m ready to cry enough as it is but seeing his face while I tell him would make it worse.

I shut the light off and open the door. I see the lights coming from his bedroom. I begin to slowly walk towards it, fear in every step I take.

I stop at the doorway and he looks at me. His face read of confusion.

“Are you alright Triinu? You’re pale as fuck,” he says. I walk towards him and take his hands in mine. I place the razor blade in his hand, his eyesight never left mine.

“Triinu,” he whispers, “I can explain.”

“Explain what, how you lied to me? You promised you would stop,” I say, my hands trembling in his.

“Look, I’ve been through some things,”

“So have I but I’m not destroying myself,” I say.

“Yes you are, you’re just doing it differently,”

“You fucking promised,” my eyes were starting to tear up.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he puts his arms around me.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say quietly. He says nothing.

Many thoughts are racing through my head. I never had to deal with a cutter before.

“I’m going to make you stop,” I say sternly.

I break away from his grasp and begin searching the room for sharp objects.

I take keys, thumbtacks, any glass and metal items and lock them in my suitcase.

“Can you cut with credit cards?” I say to myself out loud.

“No, but it simulated the same feeling,” Alexi replies.

I wasn’t looking for an answer but since he said it, I take the cards.

“I need that one, and those keys,” he says.

“No you don’t. I have the same set of keys as you do. We’ll just use mine for now on. And as for the card, I’ll keep it,” I say and pack them in my suitcase.

“I really want you to stop,” I say.

“I know you do, it’s just hard,” he says and rubs his left wrist.

“You’re going to have to show me your wrists every night,” I say. I really hate to say it, but I need to make him stop.

“Not tonight,” Alexi says. If he just cut himself tonight the wound would be fresh, and by the way the rest of his scars look, it may be deep.

“I don’t care,”

Alexi sighs and removes his bracelets slowly, slightly wincing. I see small red marks on his wrist and then one really big one. The more bracelets he removed I begin to see what he was hiding from me.

Dried up tissue was stuck to his arm and small droplets of blood leaked out.

Why would he do this to himself?

I gasp in shock as he removed the tissue. All I saw was red. That is going to be one ugly scar when it heals.

If it heals.

“Alexi…” I whisper.

“I tried to tell you,” he says.

“You’re going to lose so much blood if you don’t go to the hospital,” I say quickly.

“I’m used to it. Ever wonder why I sleep so sound at night?”

Alexi admitted to cutting every night. I am disappointed in myself more than him. I let him do that to himself.

But I’m trying to help now.

He wraps his arm with fresh tissue and puts his bracelets back on. He looked almost as disappointed as I do.

“It’s late, let’s go to sleep,” he says.

I crawl into bed and shut the light off.

“Goodnight,”