Savin' Me

The second I walked home after school the next day, I found Soda lounging on the couch, staring at the TV. Throwing my bag on the ground, I went over and shut it off.

"Um...hello? I was kind of watching that," Soda snapped at me, but he still had that glint of humor in his eyes.

"I know. But we have to talk."

His face immediately fell, and an awkward tension settled between us. "What, exactly, do you mean by that?"

"Just something I realized at therapy yesterday." I sat down next to him and took a deep breath. "Look, you know that I'm with Johnny, right?"

"Yeah, Zoe. I wouldn't have ever tried to kiss you if I had known, and it's all in the past. Don't worry. I'm not going to try to-" He rambled forever, before I finally threw my hand over his mouth.

"Shut up," I said without emotion. "That's not what I'm trying to say. Let me finish, alright?" He gave me a nod, so I continued. "Okay, so...when you tried to kiss me...I realized something. I wanted you to. I like Johnny a lot, don't get me wrong, but..."

For a second, I had to stop and take a breath, trying to calm myself, despite the tears that were starting to pool in the sides of my eyes. It was one thing to admit it to myself, but saying it out loud was a lot harder. Part of me wanted to turn into a vacuum cleaner and suck the words right back into my brain.

"I just think that I like you more," I finally admitted, my voice wavering and weak. Quickly, I reached up and wiped my eyes, attempting to make myself stop crying without too much success.

Soda was completely silent, which made me nervous. The time seemed to last forever before he finally said, in a sad voice, "Zoe..." My stomach clenched as I braced myself for whatever he was about to throw at me. "Look, I really like you. I do. More than I thought I could have liked someone, after Sandy. But...you can't break up with Johnny."

I opened my mouth to answer, but he cut me off. "Johnny's been through too much shit in his life. The last thing he needs is for you to dump him on his butt after all that he's done for you."

"How," I retorted, "is it any fairer for me to lead him on, making him think that I like him when I really like you, huh? He's going to get hurt either way. I'd just rather be up front with him about it than make it last God knows how long."

That made Soda hesitate. He clearly hadn't assessed it from that angle. "Then just stop liking me."

"Have you tried to do that for me?" He opened his mouth, but I knew what was going to come out of it. "Exactly."

"Well, I'm working on it, alright? There are ways for people to get over each other, and you need to get over me. We're not right for each other, okay? You're a crazy, suicidal, abused, tortured girl, and I'm happy-go-lucky Sodapop. Talk about opposites."

His words stung. Something in the back of my brain told me that he meant to do that, but it didn't soften the blow at all. I thought that he had cared about me, and that was why he had tried to get me to stop swiping my blade across my wrists. But no, he just didn't want to be in the presence of a totally insane girl. Perfect.

"Fine. If that's how you feel," I snapped, standing up and storming out of the room. In a fit of fury, I went through my drawers, slamming each of them shut as hard as I could, collecting my pajamas so that I could take a shower. It ticked me off that it was only Wednesday, still half a week of school (kinda) ahead of me.

A sort of sick half smile spread across my face as I turned the water as hot as it would go. Once it started going, the little droplets fell on my bare skin, feeling cold until the intense burning sensation kicked in. The pain felt good. It was the next best thing to my blade.

Closing my eyes and letting the searing water fall over my face, I realized something. Why the hell was I listening to anyone? Everyone was trying to lead me down the right path, but instead, they were leading me straight to my own demise. My life was falling apart again, just when I thought that maybe it would start coming back together.

There was an evil cackle that sounded, echoing through the tiles. "Can you believe it?" the voice questioned mockingly. "It's pretty funny, actually. You finally picked the guy that you liked...and he rejected you. Viciously."

"Shut up," I mumbled, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. I recognized the voice, my voice. It was the same one I had heard before I cut the worst I ever had. I didn't have my blade, so it couldn't get to me like before.

"But honestly, Zoe. What were you thinking?" I was glad that I couldn't see her...me...whoever it was. Last time, that had unnerved me more than the words. "Who in the world, ever, would love a girl who enjoyed cutting herself, giving herself ugly scars? You're just crazy, remember? Just a nutjob who has no business living."

"I do have a business living," I defended, but there was no feeling behind my words. They could only mean so much if I didn't believe them myself.

"Who fed you that shit? Your therapist? She's a quack."

"She knows what I'm going through," I argued.

"She has no idea what you're going through," the voice hissed. "No one does. There are cutters, and then there's you, Zoe. You're insane, off the deep end. You talk to yourself from the past. A person can't really get more far gone."

"You're wrong," I cried out. "You're wrong."

The image of myself came up in front of me in my mind's eye. Struggling, I hurried to try to make the water burn more on my already red and raw skin, but it wouldn't go any further. "Why are you torturing me?" I sobbed.

"Revenge," the other me responded, a malicious smirk distorting my features.

Finally, I just shut off the shower and got dressed quickly, not bothering to dry off. Then, I collapsed against the front of the linen closet and cried, burying my face in my hands.

Just when I thought I was making a bit of progress.