Heavy

Knowing that I actually loved anyone made me extremely paranoid. I never told him, then, that I loved him. I had been afraid of what he would say.

I didn't want to love him. I didn't even love myself, how could I had loved anyone. But, I knew, deep, deep, deep down that I loved him. For one, I had loved my parents, and I felt the same way I used to feel about them that I had felt about Gerard. Every little thing in my life came into perspective; nothing had mattered but him.

Whenever I looked at this guy, my whole life felt like it was in his hands. He had this control over me that I couldn't explain. That's love, isn't it?

When he held my hand and gave me kisses, I wasn't pessimistic October; I was happy October. I wasn't afraid of anything when I was with him, except losing him. My whole world existed just to be with him.

I had said this all before, but they're the only things that ruled my brain.

I had often wondered if I had ruled his brain as much as he ruled mine. I had wondered if he loved me too. It's frightful to wonder, and at times I didn't want to know.

When Gerard walked me home, I had thought this exact thing. What had he thought of me, of our relationship, but I didn't dare ask. I had been alright with not knowing.

"Hey," he said softly as he let my hand go, "Are you going to tell your folks about me?"

I shrug, "Maybe." I jested softly, just to play with him.

He grins at me, biting his bottom lip, "Afraid they won't like me?"

I shake my head, "I am not afraid, I just don't think they'll care, is all."

Gerard's lips turned down a bit, "If you were my daughter, I'd care if she had a boyfriend."

I gave a soft laugh, "You're too cute to be my dad."

He leaned over to me, "Thank God, right?"

His lips had pressed to mine softly. My heart banged around my ribcage as it normally did when this guy kissed me. I am such a girl.

He pulled from me, biting his bottom lip again, his beautiful eyes boring at me, "I'll see you, beautiful."

I can't even speak. He makes me feel weird. I can't even explain to you.

Once I'm inside my house, I seem to float around. Almost like I were a ghost. I floated into the living room, where Elsa was speaking on the phone to my parents.

She ha glanced over at my, "October is right here." She says.

She hands me the phone and my floatation has ended, "Hello?" I say into the receiver.

"How are you?" My mother asks.

"I'm fine." 

"That's good to hear. Listen, October, we'll be home in a few weeks." She says this as if I'm suppose to care.

I really don't.

"Alright. I can't wait to see you and dad." I lie.

"We can't wait to see you to." She lies, "How is your school work coming along?"

"Fine."

"Okay, well, give the phone back to Elsa. I love you, October."

I sigh softly, "Love you, too." I can't tell if I'm lying or if I actually mean it.

I hand the phone back to Elsa and start off upstairs. 

Up in my room, I get to thinking that Elsa and Gerard are the only two people I love. I don't love my mom and I don't love my dad. Not the way I love Elsa and Gerard; they've taken the place of my parents.

And, then, I don't know why this saddens me so much. Really, I think this gave me an excuse to go underneath my bed, to get those razors. I don't know why. Why? I haven't a clue; then or now.

I get them, slipping down onto the floor and look at them. I never gave a lot of thought into it at that exact moment; I take one out and play with the edges. I had nicked my index finger, playing to close to the edge, and I watched, with fascination, as a tiny bit of blood rushed to the small cut.

Instinct and remembrance and loneliness fill me. Without even batting an eyelash, I put the razor to the worn and scabbed skin on my wrist. I look down for a fresh piece of skin, an unmarked territory. I end up near the bend of my elbow, and press the razor there. I slowly, familiarly, dig the razor down and across my skin; my body fills with sick pleasure.

I'm unsure as to why I did it. I guess it was the way my mother had brushed me off, perhaps? I don't even know.

I'm panting once I reach the razor's end. I don't know why, though; as if doing this tires me out. I watch the blood pool, agonizingly slowly; I can barely contain myself, I squeeze the skin around it to make it come faster.

The blood comes almost too fast, I press my palm to the cut and get up, rushing to my bathroom. I slipped my arm in the sink and remove my palm, looking at all the blood. I can't help it, I'm addicted to the pain, to the blood, to the fascination of cutting myself.

And, just as much as I love Gerard, I had loved cutting myself. It's sick to know, because, who actually loves cutting themselves? I really am sick, I think, but I don't care.

What would Gerard think? He would probably be disgusted with me. I'm disgusted with myself, but I honestly didn't even give a damn. As long as I'm satisfied, I don't care. What was wrong with me?


I don't let Gerard know. I don't let Carol know. Not even Elsa.

When I go to my meeting with Carol, I wear a cardigan to hide my new scars. I even had to wear it around Gerard. I don't think he ever noticed.

Carol smiles at me when I enter her office. She always seems so damn happy. I'm happy too, but I never show it as much as she had.

"How are things?" She asks as I sit.

"Perfect." 

Yes, things were perfect because I had two pleasures in my life. Gerard and those silver little devils.

She grins even wider, if it's possible. Well, yeah, it is. "I'm happy to hear. So, Gerard is the cause?"

"Yes."

"Have you had a boyfriend before?"

"Not before Gerard."

"Well, again, October, I am very happy for the both of you."

"Thank you. He makes things a lot easier."

"How so?"

I began to tell her about not feeling so lonely. I tell her about being able to tell him anything; which is a slight lie because I hadn't told him I was cutting again. Then, I tell her about my newfound fear of telling him that I love him.

"Whoa, that's a big...big deal, October." Her smile fades.

"How so?" I use her words against her.

"You've barely gotten together with him."

"Love at first sight. He makes me feel loved." 

Her smile returns, "Even more than your parents do?"

"Yep," I nod, "I feel wanted when I'm with him."

Carol began to tell me about love and heart break. She then tells me about all the things that could go wrong. I drift in and out of her warnings, because I do not care, I'm the typical teen at this stage; not listening and not caring, because I feel like I know everything. I hear her warnings, and I understand, but I'm not all like every other teenage girl. I can protect my heart just as much as I can give it away.

When I leave her office, Gerard is waiting for me. I've become a bit dependent on him; Elsa likes this. I have a friend, a boyfriend, and she is very happy.

"Wanna come to my house?" He asked as his arm wrapped around my shoulder.

"Yeah, sure."