The Stars Are Fading Away

I close my eyes
But I was lost, but I was stranded

I woke up the next morning in pain. When I lifted my shirt, there was extensive bruising down my side. It hurt to turn my body, and even when I lightly brushed my fingers over my ribs, the pain intensified.

It took the focus off my face and the stinging on my wrist. I looked at the bandage I had wrapped around the cuts and was surprised to see the blood had gone through. I had cut deeper than I thought.

Cutting had made me feel so calm. I had liked it, and that scared me. I didn't want to do it again. I should have thrown away the razor.

I went back in the first aid kit and took out the roll of gauze again. I took off the old bloody bandage and put on a new one. Then I took the razor and threw it out down the hall, so it wouldn't tempt me. When I got back to my room I gathered my books and picked up all the crap on the floor.

I was trying to keep my mind busy so I wouldn't have to think about anything that happened in the last two days. It hurt to bend down, but I did anyways. A sudden, excruciating pain ran down my side, and I gasped and straightened up quickly. Tears came to my eyes, but I fought them off. I grabbed my bag and ran out the door, not bothering to eat breakfast.

I caught the bus just in time. I wasn't running late, in fact, I was going to be early to my class.

I slumped down in my seat, taking deep breaths, just wishing the pain would go away.



The pain continued for several days. It didn't get better. I considered going to the doctor, but I didn't want to explain. I wondered if my ribs were broken.

Life went on. Exams were coming up glaringly soon and I spent all my free time studying. I tried to fill up every minute of my day with activity so I wouldn't have to think. My side ached all day, and it exhausted me, causing me to fall asleep instantly every night.

It was mid-day, and I was studying, what was now usual for me, when I got a call from an unknown number. I would have ignored it, but I was curious to see who it was. I didn't have the greatest social life these days.

"Hey, Amber?"

"Yes…"

"It's Bryce. I really think you need to talk to Mason."

I bit my lip. "I really… I don't want to yet, Bryce."

"I realize what happened, Amber, but he really needs to talk to you. He won't do anything. He goes to class, comes home and sits in his room and smokes."

"He's smoking? I thought he quit!"

"He did. Please just come talk to him."

I took a deep breath. "I… okay."

"Thank you. Do you have a ride or should I come pick you up?"

"I have a ride." I'd take the bus to buy some time.

"Are you sure you're not going to back out?"

"I won't."

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Bryce."

I put the phone down and took another deep breath. I looked down at the bandage on my wrist. What would Mason say? I had to go talk to him, though. I should have called him sooner. I was being selfish.

I walked slowly to the bus stop, just making it again. I had a fairly good idea of how to get to Mason's house via bus. I stared out the window and tried to focus on the landscape, trying not to think again. I barely realized it when the landscape turned into the neighborhood Mason lived in. I jerked myself up and exited the bus, walking three or four blocks to get to his street. I walked up the two steps and rang the bell.

Bryce opened the door immediately.

"Thank God, Amber. It took you forever."

"I took the bus."

His brow furrowed. "I could have driven you…"

I shook my head. "It's fine."

Silence fell over us, which Bryce promptly broke.

"He's in his room."

"Okay." I nodded. I walked up to his door and hesitantly knocked, aware of Bryce watching me.

"What the fuck do you want, Bryce?" His voice was contrastingly calm to his words.

I opened the door quietly. It was freezing in his room. I sucked in a breath and pulled my hoodie tighter around me, zipping it up all the way. Mason was standing in front of his window, smoking. The window was thrown wide open, to keep the smoke out, I guess, but it wasn't working very well. Mason was wearing a very wrinkled t-shirt, and he didn't seem cold.

"Bryce, I told you–" he said, turning around, but cut himself off when he saw me. "A–Amber."

I avoided his eyes and went into the drawer I'd seen him take cigarettes from another time. I took out the two boxes that were stored there, one half-empty. I plucked the cigarette dangling out of his fingers and extinguished it on the window sill. I went back into the hallway and threw out the cigarettes. Then I went back into his room and slammed the window shut again.

Mason was still standing shock-still at my appearance. He shook his head and collapsed into the desk chair, still staring at me. I sat down on the couch, facing him.

"Bryce said I should talk to you."

"Why didn't you call?"

"I didn't want to talk yet."

"Amber, I–"

"Don't say you're sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about. Stop apologizing," I said, sharply. He fell silent.

"Why were you smoking?"

"It helps me think." He wasn't looking at me anymore, instead his gaze was fixed intently on the floor.

"What were you thinking about?"

"You." His eyes snapped up to look directly at my face, making me feel uncomfortable.

"Mason… maybe we should just forget this," I said quietly.

His expression didn't change. "If you want."

I bit my lip. "If it's going to be a big deal… I think that's the best way to fix it."

He nodded, his expression still not changing.

"Mason…"

"Hm?" he grunted. His face fell forward into his hands. I went over to the chair he was sitting in and put a hand on his back, not sure what to do. After a few seconds, he abruptly put an arm around my waist and pulled me down onto his lap. He held me tightly, and I tried to ignore the pain in my side. I couldn't hold back a small gasp of pain, and his head snapped up.

"Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."

I shook my head, but his arm hadn't moved. Streaks of fire shot down my back, spreading out across my ribs.

His eyes narrowed and he moved his arm, giving me relief. He swiftly pulled my shirt up, exposing the huge bruise on my side.

Anger washed over his features as he looked up at me. I yanked my shirt back down quickly.

"He did this?"

I nodded miserably. The fire in his eyes burned more intensely than I had ever seen it.

"How?"

"H–He kicked me."

Mason's eyes snapped shut, and the muscles in his body tensed.

"How long ago?"

"Two days."

"And it still hurts that much?"

I nodded again.

"You might have a broken rib."

I nodded again.

"You need a doctor."

"I don't want one. I'm fine."

"You're obviously not fine, Amber. What's that on your wrist?"

I fell silent. He looked at me, trying to read my expression. When he couldn't, he slowly unwrapped the bandage. I didn't try to pull my hand away.

He threw the length of gauze onto the desk. He glanced at the back of my hand, and seeing there was nothing, flipped it over. His gaze landed on the two long, thin scabs that were forming.

He stared at my wrist for several seconds before he looked back up at my face.

"You cut yourself?"

I didn't say anything, just closed my eyes.

"How could you do that to yourself?" My eyes opened again when his voice rang, not with anger, but with worry and fear.

"I promise I won't do it again. I'm sorry." I put my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer to him.

He put his arms around my waist again, avoiding my bruises.

"It's bad enough that he hurts you without you doing it to yourself," he said softly.

"I know."

He held me in silence for what seemed like hours.