Run Away With Me

I sat my Frank's side, finally let into his hospital room. He was hooked up to about a dozen machines, and I sought for the one that monitored his heart rating. I found it, near the back, beeping quietly but steadily. I immediately felt reassured, though my confidence dipped when I looked back to my friend.

His face was bruised, and on the left cheek, was a harsh graze, crusty with dried blood and antiseptic. I couldn't see his torso, but I knew it was bruised too, and the Doctor had discovered two cracked ribs on his left side too. His left side had taken it worse, because the way he was hit he landed on his left side, then was dragged along the ground because of the impact. So he cracked his ribs, broke his legs, and ripped off one finger and part of another. Just the tip of the iceberg really.

I focused on his eyes, which are closed. But I knew, behind those lids, were the most sparkling green eyes I'd ever seen. When he was sad they went the color of the stormy sea. When he was happy it looked like somebody had emptied a glitter pot into his eyes because they twinkled with joy. When he thought about something difficult, they were a crystal clear color, like the color of grass in warm weather.

As I thought about that, I shocked myself. I hadn't realized I'd known so much about Frank, never mind his eyes. But the more I thought, the more I remembered. How one of his front teeth overlapped the other and looked cute when he smiled. How he had a tiny white upside down U shaped scar underneath his bottom lip. How he crinkled his nose when he was trying to hide something. His crooked smile. His smooth hands. His strong arms, wrapped around me, trying to give me comfort. And most of all, his velvet voice telling me it was okay to cry.

I was crying by then. Fat, salty tears gliding down my cheeks as I grasped Frank's good hand. His fingers were limp and dead, like I was holding onto a corpse. The thought made me gasp and the tears came faster, but I didn't let go, I just held much, much tighter.

"F-Frank," I choked out. "I don't want to lose you. I can't believe how shit I've been. Well, you've been shit too, but I deserved it, you didn't." I wiped away my tears but more soon replaced them. "I don't want you to die. I want you to open your eyes and look into mine, and notice the color of them. I want you to know all the tiny little details about me and love them. I want you to think my weirdness is cute, and I want you to say that to me."

"I want you to be okay when you wake up, and heal, and grow older," I continued, trying to ignore the feeling of despair in my stomach. "I need you to take me to the prom and maybe Tessa will lend you her car. We have plenty of time for that. I want you to show me the good side of Kalli and teach me how to see the good side of everyone. I want you to borrow my iPod and tell me what you think of my music, and I can borrow your mp3 and tell you how crap your music taste is." I laughed sadly.

"I need you to give me a hug and listen to me as I ramble about how shit math class is, and how unfair all the teachers are. I want you to meet Tessa properly and see why she means so much to me. I want you to know how my parents didn't want me, but you did, and Tessa did, and Jake did. So you people mean most to me."

I stopped, because I knew I was going too far in. I was diving in to the deep end, and I knew there was no going back if I confessed completely. It didn't matter if Frank could hear me or not, because I'd never said it out loud, and I'd never written it down. I'd never even thought about it, not really. I took a deep, trembling breath.

"What Kalli told you, that I had sex with a guy," I paused. "It was at a party, last year. Somebody in the year above had turned sixteen, so we had a party. Older college students turned up, friends of the birthday girl's brother. They brought alcohol. Everyone tried it, everyone got a bit drunk, even me. I went upstairs to be sick, but I couldn't find the toilet. I went into a small room, a study. It was dark and somebody else was already there. I bumped into them, but the grabbed my arm."

"'Stay,' they said. 'You're pretty. I told them it was dark and they couldn't see me. 'I saw you downstairs,' was their answer. Then they kissed me. I was only fifteen, and it was the third guy I'd kissed in my life. It was drunken, and we got carried away. When it got too far, I said I didn't want to do It. He didn't listen."

I stopped. My breathing seemed too loud in the tiny room.

"I skipped a period, then two, then three. I panicked and I went to an Abortion clinic. They checked, and I was right. I was... p-pregnant," I wiped away the tears that were still falling. "I got rid of it. I had to... I didn't want to be like my Mom!"

The last sentence came out as a shout, and I startled myself out of my memories. But now I had started telling Frank, I had to finish. He had to know.

"One of the boy's Mom worked at the clinic. She told him. He told the school. She lost her job, for betraying patient confidentiality. But the damage was done. I couldn't tell anyone, because I was drunk. So I started cutting as an escape. Then I met you."

I was finished. I had told him, and I hadn't died. It didn't feel like the world was falling away. My heart was beating too fast, but I didn't feel so bad.

"And now you know Frank," I whispered, and I kissed his smooth, still forehead, a tear landing on his deathly pale skin. "Now you know."