The Only Way I Know

It was a week later when I called Alex again. Tom had been becoming an even closer friend, but me and Alex's friendship was lingering heavily in my mind. Did she even understand what I was going through anymore?

Once I called her, I realised she didn't.

"Hey Alex!" I said cheerfully when she answered.

"Jamie? Oh...hey."

"Uh...is something wrong?" I asked, sitting down on my bed.

"No," she answered sharply. Well, something was definitely wrong.

"What is it?"

"Well, you haven't exactly kept in touch," she replied coolly. What the fuck? Was this the same Alex I was talking to?

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

"All you talk about is yourself. How life is so terrible. How awesome Tom is. Blah blah blah."

Even though I was on the phone, my mouth dropped open. I was speechless. How dare she! She had no idea...no idea at all. I wondered if she realised how horrible my life for the past few months had been, and how I had almost no one?

"How can you say that?" I exclaimed, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Here was my best friend for God knows how many years, telling me I was self-obsessed. "You have no idea. I had to leave my whole life behind in Australia, with only a week's notice, I was shipped here where no one likes me, and one of my first friends fucking died. You think I'm complaining too much? I feel like I'm bad luck. Everyone around me is hurt. My mum. Rachel. Tom." I took a ragged breath and tried to hold back the tears.

"No wonder no one likes you...all you've probably been doing is whining or moping around. Do you ever go out?"

Hot, boiling anger surged through me. I wanted to punch her in the face. Punch Alex! My best friend...at least...she was my best friend.

"Alex, I don't think I can consider you my friend anymore," I whispered, for fear I would snap my phone in half and jump out the window. The other end was silent as I hung up.

I sat there in shock.

Before pure rage set in.

I screamed and screamed, throwing my phone across the room. I grabbed my pillow and chucked it at my wardrobe door, picked up my school books and scattered them everywhere. Lucky my mum was out for once. The neighbours could probably hear me screaming. Everyone on the whole fucking street below could probably hear me.

I kicked over my share and beat my fists against the bed. Everything I had bottled up for so long came out in one, huge explosion. I collapsed against the bed, bursting into tears and letting all fly loose.

I got up and sat back down, noticing the stain on the sheets where my eyeliner had run. I looked to the desk drawer...

No...not again...I wouldn't stoop that low again...

I slowly got up and pulled out the scissors, still razorsharp. I took a deep breath, and slowly cut my wrist. Not too deep, but deep enough for me to let out a sharp gasp of pain. The blood trickled down again, making me feel even more insecure inside. But somehow it began to make me feel better. Insecurity left; relief set in. Now my emotional pain had been transferred into physical, visible pain...

Walking over to the other side of the room, I picked up my phone and noticed it was still functing normally. I hastily stowed away the scissors back in the drawer and went through my message inbox, deleting every reminder of Alex in there.

I marched over to my wardrobe and packed away anything that reminded me of her. Photos, letters, presents she had given me...everything. I stashed it away at the top shelf of my cupboard where I wouldn't have to look at it, where I wouldn't have to be constantly reminded of Alex. Of my past life. All I could imagine at that moment was either lighting the box on fire and watching it disintegrate away into smoke, or throw it out to sea and watch it slowly leave my life.

I walk alone, I walk alone...