How Can I Blame You When It's Me I Can't Forgive?
Chapter 2
Milan smiled hesitantly at me from the slightly open door. I stared at him, dumbstruck. He waved a little, but made no move to start forward.
“Um, hi Chelsea,” He said.
“How on Earth did you find me here?” I asked. My eyes were still wide.
“Amanda told me you were here,” He said. “Can I come in? I want to talk to you. I miss you.” The words cut through me like a hundred blades.
“Milan… I left Boston because of us,” I said softly. I saw the look of hurt cross his face.
“But… Why?” He whispered. Pain stabbed through my heart, but I didn’t let it show.
“I’m sorry, Milan. I couldn’t handle it. The last boyfriend I had was a hockey player. He cheated on me several times before I found out. Did Amanda ever tell you that?” I asked.
“Yes, she did. But just because of one boyfriend doesn’t mean you have to give up on me! We’re not all the same!” He pleaded with me.
“I’m sorry, Milan. I don’t want to get hurt again,” I said, shutting the door. I heard him walk away as I slid down it, allowing the tears to fall freely from my eyes. I had just let the best thing that had ever happened to me leave.
||Three Months Later||
I sat on the couch, still at my parent’s cabin. It had definitely gotten warmer out, but I hardly noticed. I was always cold nowadays. The bandages on my wrists twisted with my arm as if to remind me why. Since that day I had shut Milan out, I hadn’t had any form of contact with anyone from Boston, not Amanda, not Milan, not even my parents. I was being antisocial, but I couldn’t help it. Since I let Milan go, I felt horrid about myself. I started cutting again, something I hadn’t done since high school. It eased the emotional pain I felt from letting Milan go. I didn’t get any help for it; I knew no one would help me anyway. I took the bandages off, got fresh ones and went outside, grabbing my knife from the counter. I went to my little hiding place and started again. I felt myself starting to fade in and out of consciousness as I started on my left wrist, and I heard someone driving toward my house. I saw Milan’s truck pull in. Why is he here? I thought as I slipped into unconsciousness.
||Milan’s Point of View||
As I drove up Chelsea’s driveway and got out of my car, I suddenly got nervous. I hadn’t asked to come here, what if she pushed me away again? As I climbed out, I heard a light thud from outside. Curious, I went around to the back of the house and gasped in horror. There was Chelsea, lying passed out in the woods, blood running from fresh wounds on her wrists.
“Oh no,” I moaned. Grabbing her tenderly by the upper part of her arms, I hurried her inside. I cleaned out her wounds and bandaged them, then lay her gently on the couch. I sat next to her and stroked her hair lightly, waiting for her to wake up. She stirred and opened her eyes. She sat up slowly and stared around, and then her eyes fell on me.
“Milan!” She gasped, stumbling back. I caught her arm gently, but she still winced.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling my hand back. “I wanted to see you again. I miss you,” I said, inching closer to her. She stared at me, tears and indecision in her eyes, and then, with a low cry, she fell into my arms. I wrapped them around her and she cried into my chest. I stroked her hair and shushed her gently. “Its okay, Chelsea, I’m here,” I whispered softly to her. She stared up at me, a question in her eyes. I smiled sweetly at her. “I’ll always be here for you,” I assured her. She fell back into me and I held her while she cried herself to sleep.
“Um, hi Chelsea,” He said.
“How on Earth did you find me here?” I asked. My eyes were still wide.
“Amanda told me you were here,” He said. “Can I come in? I want to talk to you. I miss you.” The words cut through me like a hundred blades.
“Milan… I left Boston because of us,” I said softly. I saw the look of hurt cross his face.
“But… Why?” He whispered. Pain stabbed through my heart, but I didn’t let it show.
“I’m sorry, Milan. I couldn’t handle it. The last boyfriend I had was a hockey player. He cheated on me several times before I found out. Did Amanda ever tell you that?” I asked.
“Yes, she did. But just because of one boyfriend doesn’t mean you have to give up on me! We’re not all the same!” He pleaded with me.
“I’m sorry, Milan. I don’t want to get hurt again,” I said, shutting the door. I heard him walk away as I slid down it, allowing the tears to fall freely from my eyes. I had just let the best thing that had ever happened to me leave.
||Three Months Later||
I sat on the couch, still at my parent’s cabin. It had definitely gotten warmer out, but I hardly noticed. I was always cold nowadays. The bandages on my wrists twisted with my arm as if to remind me why. Since that day I had shut Milan out, I hadn’t had any form of contact with anyone from Boston, not Amanda, not Milan, not even my parents. I was being antisocial, but I couldn’t help it. Since I let Milan go, I felt horrid about myself. I started cutting again, something I hadn’t done since high school. It eased the emotional pain I felt from letting Milan go. I didn’t get any help for it; I knew no one would help me anyway. I took the bandages off, got fresh ones and went outside, grabbing my knife from the counter. I went to my little hiding place and started again. I felt myself starting to fade in and out of consciousness as I started on my left wrist, and I heard someone driving toward my house. I saw Milan’s truck pull in. Why is he here? I thought as I slipped into unconsciousness.
||Milan’s Point of View||
As I drove up Chelsea’s driveway and got out of my car, I suddenly got nervous. I hadn’t asked to come here, what if she pushed me away again? As I climbed out, I heard a light thud from outside. Curious, I went around to the back of the house and gasped in horror. There was Chelsea, lying passed out in the woods, blood running from fresh wounds on her wrists.
“Oh no,” I moaned. Grabbing her tenderly by the upper part of her arms, I hurried her inside. I cleaned out her wounds and bandaged them, then lay her gently on the couch. I sat next to her and stroked her hair lightly, waiting for her to wake up. She stirred and opened her eyes. She sat up slowly and stared around, and then her eyes fell on me.
“Milan!” She gasped, stumbling back. I caught her arm gently, but she still winced.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling my hand back. “I wanted to see you again. I miss you,” I said, inching closer to her. She stared at me, tears and indecision in her eyes, and then, with a low cry, she fell into my arms. I wrapped them around her and she cried into my chest. I stroked her hair and shushed her gently. “Its okay, Chelsea, I’m here,” I whispered softly to her. She stared up at me, a question in her eyes. I smiled sweetly at her. “I’ll always be here for you,” I assured her. She fell back into me and I held her while she cried herself to sleep.