The Only Way I Know

It was Christmas Eve when me and Tom got back in touch; he had been busy during the week, while I had sat around doing pretty much nothing. I had just woken up when I heard my phone ring on the bedside table next to me.

Groggily reaching around for it, I fumbled with the keys.

"Hello?"

"Jamie? Its Tom - did I wake you up?" His voice was apologetic.

"No no..." I said sleepily, rubbing my eyes and glancing at the clock. Stifling a yawn, I noticed it was eight thirty in the morning. "How are you?"

"Yeah I'm good! You?"

"Yeah I'm alright..." I said, lying through my teeth. I could almost feel my nose growing. Alright indeed. I had fucking passed out from cutting myself, with an ugly scar as a reminder of my troubles. "Fuck!"

"Jame?"

"Ah just forgot that I haven't done my Christmas shopping." I ran a hand through my dark hair, noticing how dry it was. How long had it been since I'd washed it? How long had it been since my life had felt normal?

"Well, how about I help you?" Tom offered. I could almost hear his grin on the other end of the line. "You have no idea where to shop, right?"

"I s'pose you're right," I replied, resisting the urge to yawn again. "When should we go?"

"Today, of course," he laughed. "Mind you, its gonna be hell...how about nine thirty I meet you on the street?"

"Sounds good," I said, feeling happier than I had in a while. "See you then!"

"Bye," was the answer I heard before I hung up. Feeling my feet drag behind me, I slowly went into my bathroom and turned the shower on, sighing in content as the hot steam flowed around me. I took a shower before getting changed into dark blue jeans, a long sleeved red top and a warm jacket. Last but not least, I applied my eyeliner carefully and made my way downstairs.

I noticed my mum downstairs seated at the table, reading the paper. She glanced up briefly before continuing to read.

Wow, what a frosty reception, I remarked, opening the fridge and pouring myself a glass of orange juice.

"You seem quite happy," my mum commented. Her eyes didn't move from the paper.

"Hmm...not even a good morning? Or maybe a 'are you sure you're okay, Jamie?' " I knew I sounded narky, but I really couldn't care less.

"Its not as if you'd give me a charming greeting, either," she replied icily. My mum was usually quite nice. I must finally be rubbing off on her.

I quietly mimicked her voice and made a face while putting the carton of juice away.

"Where are you going?" she asked sharply.

"Out."

"Funnily enough, I can see that."

"And you tell me I have the attitude problem."

Jamie: One, Mum: Zero.

"Who with?" She placed the paper down on the table. Actually, more like slammed it down.

"Tom."

"A boy?" she questioned, her eyes wide.

"Don't act so surprised," I said coldly. I felt hurt enough as it was. "And he's a close friend. Only one I have, in fact. I think its more than you've made while we've been here so...yeah. I win."

My mum stood up angrily, her fists balled at her sides. Never, in all my fifteen years of life, had I seen my mother so angry. Her body had tensed, and her face had gone redder than I thought possible.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that - "

"Fine. I won't talk to you at all." Throwing my glass in the sink and grabbing my wallet from the table, I marched out the door. The air was freezing, sending my face into an immediate sense of numbness.

I felt my hands shake with rage as I leant against the door, trying to regain my composure. Breathe, Jamie, breathe... I thought over and over again, inhaling and exhaling slowly. The cold air burnt my lungs - but it felt so good.

"Jamie!" I heard Tom call from across the road. He made his way over, his eyes bright. I felt something warm and fuzzy go off inside me, causing butterflies to flutter around in the pit of my stomach. When he looked at me, it was as if everything was okay. His reassuring look, the way he wrapped his arm around me; he was my guard.

I opened my mouth to say something when he quickly quietened me down with a kiss. And if I thought it was good the first time, then I was sorely mistaken. The bitterly cold air was nothing against his warm lips.

Pulling away, he grinned sheepishly. "How are you?"

"Fucking cold!" I gasped. I lowered my voice. "And my mum was pretty damn cold as well."

He game me a questioning look. "How?"

"I dunno. Went psycho at me," I muttered, taking his hand into mine and making my way down the street. "Where to first?"

He understood I didn't want to discuss the matter and followed my lead. "Who's the present for?"

"Ah," I said, brought up short. "Well, uh...my mum's the only relative I have, so - and ... yeah. I don't even know what to get her."

Tom lowered his eyes, at a complete loss as to what to say. "So what does she like?"

"Uh...interior shit? She loved gardening, but here we don't have a garden, so - "

"How about a small indoor garden-y type thing?" Tom suggested.

"Good idea," I said, "but it'll have to be pretty small..."

"No worries. I know just the place," he said, showing a sly grin. I smiled and followed him.

We managed to find the prefect present: a small terracotta pot, painted beige and perfectly matching our house colour. It was big enough for a few flowers, yet small enough so I could carry it.

"So...lunchtime," Tom said, glancing at his watch. It was nearly twelve - had we honestly been shopping for pots for that long? "We'll get lunch at some fast food place or something and eat it in the park...that okay?" I nodded.

We bought our lunch and sat down at the park on the damp grass. I crossed my legs, desperately trying to warm myself up. Tom looked sideways and tightly pulled me into a hug, kissing me on the lips. My body melted, surprised yet again.

"That better?" he asked, smiling.

"Uh...yes," I said, smiling back. I pulled up my sleeves and began to eat some fries.

"Jamie?" Tom said sharply, staring at my arm. I suddenly became self-conscious, shaking my sleeve down and feeling myself going red.

"What's that on your arm? You wrist, I mean?"

"Nothing," I said, way too quickly.

"Jamie, somethings up, I can tell." His green eyes looked piercingly into mine. How did he use those damn gorgeous eyes so well? "Show me your - "

I pulled my arm away from his. His eyes became more anxious. He was worried for me; I could tell.

"Jamie, whats wrong?" This time, his voice was disappointed, quiet, slow. He knew something was up.

"Nothing, okay?" I said loudly, getting up. "I'm fine. OK? Just fine."

"Jamie? What the fuck is up?"

Not even he knew what was wrong.

"What do you fucking think, Tom?" I yelled, feeling the tears gathering in my eyes. "Out of all people, I thought you would know. Out of all people, Tom. Do you have any idea - "

"Do I have any idea?" Tom demanded. "What the fuck?"

"Rachel, moving here. Having no one. No one - "

"Oh, so I don't count, do I? And how dare you use Rachel's death as an excuse. You barely knew her," he said coldly.

I breathed in sharply. Those words cut deep.

"Yeah? Well, if Rachel hadn't carked it, then maybe you wouldn't have asked me out." The tears began to stream down my cheeks as my body shook with each breath I took. "Maybe I'd have comitted suicide by now, because thats what I sure feel like doing. Wanna see my arm? Sure. Why not? Maybe you can cut it off and stick it in a museum so I can be called emo for the rest of my life." I stuck out my arm, pulling up the sleeve roughly.

Tom stared at the scars, his mouth wide. "I - "

"Don't bother," I cried, turning around and blindly running away back home. My vision was blurred as I ran upstairs, not looking at my mum's accusing glare. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her angry face turn into a worried one.

Slamming the door and locking it, I lay face down on my bed, trying to hold back everything, shove it back inside so I wouldn't have to deal with it.

Taking the familiar razor blade out again, I cut. Ignoring the pain, I bandaged it up, immediately feeling better. Why did each day end with the same feeling of pain? I needed help.

But now I truly was alone.