I'm Sorry

Kaitlyn stared at Tristan tossing and turning in the bed, twisting the sheets around his frail body. It was times like these where she wanted to cry out, to drop on her knees and pray for the boy she loved. Her parents were devout Christians but she never seemed to believe. It would take a miracle for her to believe there was some sort of saviour. If there was then he’s done a fat lot helping Tristan.

When they first started dating a year ago he seemed like a happy boy, someone who was so full of life. Kaitlyn had admired him from afar and was pleased when he chose her. She adored him so much for his confidence. It was when she was brought into his life that she realized everything wasn’t as it seems. When he wasn’t at school he acted moody and depressed. Once she’d seen the pale white marks on his wrists. She’d tried to talk to him about that but he would have none of that so she’d left the topic alone.

Tristan’s hand clenched into a fist and his eyes clenched tighter, delving him further into his nightmare. Tears slowly fell from Kaitlyn’s eyes, wondering how much longer before he decided to end his life. She stiffened and shook her head, she couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t imagine life without her Tristan.

They had their good days. When they would go for their monthly picnic, they’d go to her favourite spot on the highest hill in the city. Her iPod would be playing, the headphones shared between the couple. He would wrap his arms around her and she’d lean into him. They’d just sit there living in the moment, no words spoken between them.

She liked those days best but they were rare. Nights like these were more common. She sighed before pulling the blankets up to her chin as if they could stop all the nightmares.



She woke up to the sun streaming into the room. She stared at him also slowly open his eyes. He looked toward her and gave a smile but she knew it was fake. Tristan was rarely one to give out genuine smiles these days. “Hey there.”

“Hey baby,” he whispered, pecking her on the lips. “I’ll be right back.” He saunters over to the washroom and shuts the door behind him. Kaitlyn crawls under the blanket and closes her eyes. She knows what he’s doing in there and she could feel her core being pulled squeezed tightly. She could almost feel the slice of the blade as he did it. Suddenly she heard the bathroom door opened and she heard him walk up to the bed before she felt him pulling back the sheets. Immediately her eyes darted to his wrist. She expected to be met with the white of the gauze but this time there was none. His wrist dripped bloody red and her eyes widened.

“Tristan,” she whispered motioning to his wrist. He looks down to where she’s staring before looking back up at her smiling.

“I cut too deep but it feels so good,” he replies. He leans over to kiss her but she pushes him away before running off the bed. She runs from the house stopping only to slide into a pair of flip flops.

She gets as far as she can before she almost runs straight into a pay phone. She takes a deep breath before she realizes what she has to do. She presses three simple numbers.

“Hello, what’s your emergency?”

“My boyfriend, he self harms and this time I think he’s cut too deep,” Kaitlyn cries. She hurriedly tells the operator Tristan’s phone number and address. As she hangs up she feels the tears fall from her eyes.

She keeps walking unsure where she’s going. She doesn’t notice the weird looks she gets but no one stops to help her. All of a sudden she stops and sees a large building, a large white cross hanging from the roof.

She walks in and takes a seat in the back pew before falling to her knees in prayer. She doesn’t know what to do. She hadn’t been in Church for several years. She stopped coming when her father died from a heart attack five years ago. She thought if God did exist then he would’ve stopped her father, the kindest man on earth, from dying. But he didn’t.

She prays for Tristan and for herself. She prays for God to give her the strength to help Tristan get better. And something happens. She can feel a difference.

“Can I help you, child?” She hears a voice. She looks up to see a kind eyed Priest. She smiles and nods.

“Yes father, you can.”



“Tristan,” she whispered. The boy lay on the hospital bed, his wrists and ankles tied to the bed. His wrist was also wrapped up in gauze, having been properly taken care of.

He makes a small noise and opens his eyes, widening at the sight of the hospital around him. Kaitlyn expects him to fight but he doesn’t. Instead he bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry Katy, I’m so sorry.” Kaitlyn grabs his hand and brings it to her lips, gently kissing his knuckles. He looks over at her and gives a sad smile. “I should have thought what I was doing. When I saw your face after you noticed my cut it was like I was some monster.”

“No, Tristan. You’re not a monster. You’re sick. There’s a difference,” she whispered, caressing his cheek. “I love you and now we’ll be able to get you help.”

“I promise to be better, Katy, I do. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Kaitlyn blushed and leaned over to kiss him on the lips.

“We have plenty of time for that.”