Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

I laid on the open trailer in the backyard after the first day of school, staring at the blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds, remembering everything from the past year. It had started out . . . well, badly. Eighth grade had weighed me down until its weight was pushing me deeper into the ground, which spilled over into most of my summer.

"I'm sorry," I had nearly mumbled.

"The damage is done, bitch," he snapped.

I was crying, staring at his words before me and feeling the awful stab inside of me. If Matt had been standing in the room, I would be on the floor and he would be above me, mercilessly beating me until my final breath left my lungs.

"Can we just talk? Please? I wanna fix this more than anything," I typed. My heart was beating faster and faster as I tried to stomach my sobs. My neighbor was sitting in the other room, waiting for me to walk back in. I had told her I'd only be a minute, but a minute turned into fifteen. I walked back in, making sure my eyes were free of tears.

"I gotta do homework. Sorry." I showed her the page, and she nodded in understanding. She left, I forced a smile and waved goodbye, then hurried back to the computer to see what Matt had said this time.

"No, we can't just talk about it. You're just a stupid little bitch, and I really hope your heart just stops fucking beating, cause you ain't worth shit to the world. How the fuck could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm stupid, okay? I know. I would love to die right now, Matt, but I gotta make this right first."

"You'll never make this right, you stupid fuck, Ange-. . . whoever the fuck you are. Get out of my life."

And he was gone.

I felt something slip from me. More than likely, that thing was my sanity. I shoved the keyboard away from myself, ripping the computer cord from the electrical socket and running straight into my room. I was crying so hard, I was nearly screaming.

I'd never meant to break his heart. I'd never meant to hurt him in any way. I tried my best to help him, but I'd fucked up in the process. He said he loved me . . .

I noticed a plastic Wal-Mart bag sitting on the ground. I picked it up and closed my bedroom door, my entire body shaking as I realized what was truly about to happen. There was a small roll of ribbon sitting on top of my TV, which I picked up and ripped off an arm's length. I pulled the bag over my head and tied the ribbon tight around the ends that touched my neck. The heat began to fill the bag, the ribbon tight around my neck and just about choking me.

I lifted my right arm and stared at the deep scar on my skin. There had been so many others, but I healed them through the clever use of Neosporin and Mederma. But the one that remained had been too deep to ever fully heal. I sighed and dropped my arm, feeling the same stab of pain from the day I told Matt the truth. I had an urge to grab something sharp and create another, but I remained on the trailer, releasing a breath and trying to relax. School would come tomorrow, and I had some people to make it worth while.

By the way, the bag popped.