If You're One for Breathing

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

I run up the last of the stairs and out of breath, collapse on my bed. I took a taxi home, paid extra, dumped everything at the door and ran up here immediately. My thoughts are tumbling over each other as if they're in some tornado- and that's certainly what my stomach feels like as well.

I missed you.

Did you?

That angry, hurt look is imprinted on my mind and probably will be for the rest of my life. Because it's my fault, I left him, and now he hates me. Did I ever expect anything else? I'm not over him, and it's about time I face up to him. I'm not over him- and I'll never have him. Who knows? Maybe he is with someone even now. That would be good, right? Good for him?

But who am I kidding?

I hit my pillows hard, furious. At who? I'm not too sure. I just know that this is bad. Them being here was definitely not expected. It wasn't supposed to happen in itself. It's not like I was planning on this happening... groaning, I sit up. The house is empty albeit for myself. I don't know where the two boys are, but I'm alone and that's certainly relieving.

A few tears trickle down my face, frustrated with myself. Because I did this, all of it, to myself. It's as though I like punishing myself. Getting trapped in an engagement, falling in love with my brother's friend, and then leaving everyone who had started caring for me. This is so out of control, and yet all of it is trapped inside me, building up like dynamite or something equally drastic.

I let it out through the blade.

Drying my tears, I trap myself in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub. My scars have faded a little, but I open an old one easily, closing my eyes and drowning myself in the pain. Anything to relieve this inward tension, this deadly disease that has such a tight hold on me. It's completely destroying me, eating me from the inside out.

When I finish, I rest against the wall, letting the blood trickle down into the tub. The tears and thinking have drained me and I begin falling asleep. Drowsily, I sit there, recalling the good times. They were short, but they were good...

There's a knock on the door and I let out a yelp.

"El?" It's Sam. "That you?"

"I, uh, yeah," I manage. "J-just washing my feet. The door's locked," I add, inwardly panicking as I glance from the door and back to myself. Hurriedly I turn on the water, standing clumsily to wash my legs. "Why?"

"Well, I couldn't find you at the beach," he mumbles. "I tried calling, but you never picked up."

"Really?" That confuses me. I don't ever turn my phone off, though no one ever really calls me. "Check my beach bag, will you? It should be there. I think I dropped it on the stairs. Maybe it's dead." My voice is tops a notch when he tries to open it, so I scrub faster at the drying blood. It's hard to get off the tile, but I have to do it.

"Fine, I'll check," he sighs lazily and I hear him stepping away.

It only gives me another minute to finish cleaning up. Chewing on my lip, I bend over and scrub my legs, getting off all the sand and blood. It reopens a wound and I curse at myself. Putting my darkest towel to keep it from bleeding too much, I step out and grab some bandages from under the sink. I'm clumsy and hit my shoulder against the sink and practically fall over, trying to open one. But finally, it's covered and I have a bloody and wet towel to deal with. I shove it in a pile with the other wet towel and I stand up, checking myself over just as I hear Sam coming.

"It's not there," he gives me a look as I open it. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I shake my head hurriedly, then I frown. "It's not there? What do you mean?" I push past and run through all of my things. "I called you when we got there and you ditched me, but..." my voice fades away into confusion as I finally finish searching through all my things. "It's not here." I frown.

He snickers. "You left your phone at the beach."

I frown, remembering everything that happened at the beach. The tears and sensitivity are over with the blade, and now I'm just tired of it, and now a little worried without my phone. "Fine," I sigh. "I must have dropped it in the sand as I was picking my things up." Pulling my hair back, I fall back on my bed.

Sam joins me. "I ditched you so you'd find some guys. Did you find any?" He asks hopefully.

Slowly, I shake my head and close my eyes. "No, not really..." I trail off, still tired.

My friend glances carefully at me, and then wraps a sheet over my shoulders. "I think it's a day for a nap," he decides, fixing the pillows for us. We do this now and then, after a tiring day. Find a bed and just rest near each other. After pulling his ugly little dog up as well, we all are drained, though probably for different reasons.

I, for one, can't stop seeing William's face in my mind. And it's tearing me apart already.