Amelia

Amelia’s POV (Part One)

A/N: This took me a long time to upload because I was too scared of what would happen. But I've decided I was going to continue it, because it's life. This happens to people. If you ever feel like you are at this point, I want you to message me. We'll get through it together. I promise.

*WARNING: Some of this is pretty intense, okay? If you can’t handle suicide or self-harm I strongly suggest you stop reading at this point. This is supposed to be a real-life story. And these things do happen. So stop reading if you’re going to judge people who go through this.

I haven’t picked up a blade in months. I usually had Jenna to help me stop. But I didn’t know where she was, or how long I’d been staring out this god damn window. I’m guessing it’s been hours since it was already starting to get dark and I could hear my dad stumbling around downstairs.

This day is hard for the both of us.

My dad took it pretty bad when my mom died. Of course, we never were close. But it never used to be this bad. It used to be okay, you know? Breakfast every Sunday after church. Actually going to church. That was when Dad and I still believed. Our faith kind of shattered.

He never drank. He was normal. He went to work on time, would cook dinner…I needed to stop reminiscing. I guess I kind of hoped he’d come around one of these days, pretend like he cared about me, instead of wanting to smash my face in every time he saw me.

I sighed and stared at the shiny metal in between my fingers. I’d been turning it over and over, looking for some sign to get me to stop. I took a deep breath and pressed the blade into my skin, waiting to pull it across, but I just couldn’t.

My mom wouldn’t want this. I know that. I could practically hear her. ‘You’re better than that, Amelia.’

So I stopped.

And I grabbed my phone.

And I searched my contacts for Callan’s number.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Callan? I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to wake you.” I felt like complete and utter shit now.

“No, you didn’t. I’m just doing some homework. Didn’t get much sleep,” he said with a groggy voice.

“Oh,” I responded.

There was silence on the other end.

“So did you call for a reason, or were you just lonely?”

“Honestly? I don’t know…a little of both I guess.”

More silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I glanced at the sharp blade sitting on my bed, mocking me. I winced. He probably didn’t want to hang out with me.

“Do you want to meet up or something?”

“Only if you want to…but I could really get out of the house.” Somewhere where my demons can’t find me, I wanted to add.

“That actually sounds great. I’m starving. Do you want to go get Chinese?”

My stomach growled. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. At the same time, I was too ashamed to eat right now.

“Ya. That’d be great.”

&&&&&&&&&

I walked across town to the meet-up spot Callan and I thought of. It was just a bus stop, but it was a place both of us knew. From there, we’d walk to Billy Kwong’s together.

Callan was already there when I arrived, and frankly, he looked like shit. I didn’t want to point out the bruises, so, instead, to let him know I cared, I hugged him. I know. It’s so unlike me.

“So how’s your day been?” I asked him, trying to fill in the awkward moments.

“Well…it’s been pretty normal, I guess. As normal as my life could get.” He was trying to joke around, but I didn’t think it was funny. I kicked a lone stone in my path. “I’m sorry. I forgot how sore you are about those jokes.”

I just shrugged.

“What about you? How was your day?”

I tried to hide the sigh under my breath. “It’s been okay.” Complete bullshit.

“Are you sure?”

“Ya. Why?”

“Because you aren’t being like the girl I met at the Ogden last night.”

“Well, maybe I’m not her. Maybe I was just putting on a face,” I said truthfully.

That really got me thinking. I just blurt it out without thinking and I didn’t stop to think how meaningful that means. I’m not this girl everyone thinks of. I’m not scary or big. I’m no one to be afraid of. I’m the one that’s afraid. I’m small and afraid of everything, but I put on this whole charade that makes me look like I’m okay, when really…I’m not.

Callan cracked a smile. “I think I understand what you’re saying.”

“Do you wear masks, too?”

He shrugged. “I guess it depends on what you mean.”

I actually did sigh this time, loud enough for him to hear, because I didn’t care. I wanted to get it off my chest, and this wasn’t something I could tell Jenna. She’d just tell me to stop worrying, I’m perfect the way I am, I shouldn’t be scared. But she doesn’t know how my life is.

“I mean...I can kind of see it, just by looking at you. You joke about your fears because you think they’ll go away.”

Callan stopped walking. “What are you trying to do, Amelia?”

I got quiet and ducked my head. I’m starting to think opening up isn’t the right thing. I walked the rest of the way to the restaurant, staring at my feet, Callan right behind me.

There were only a couple of filled tables at the Chinese restaurant, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing, because it just meant more whole to fill in with words.

We got our table, and the conversation began again. “It’s okay. It just caught me off guard.”

I looked up through my bangs at him.

“I guess…ya…I guess that’s exactly what it’s like. Like how you said about masks. I’m always so afraid of speaking to my parents. I always feel like I say the wrong things. But I like making people laugh. It’s all kind of worth it, making everyone else happy, even if inside, I feel like dying.” He had the most sincere look on his face; I couldn’t help but look away when he talked to me.

“But you don’t really mean that, do you? The whole ‘dying would be better’ thing?” I asked.

“Well, why don’t you ask yourself that? If your life sucks so much, then why wouldn’t death be the perfect escape?”

“It’s not all bad, I think…”

“You think?” He had this smirk on his face. It said, ‘You can’t be as deep as me.’ But I could.

“There are some good things in my life. Like Jenna. And music. They help me escape. If I even thought about suicide, I’d know it was wrong, because I wouldn’t want to disappoint…”

I hadn’t told him about my mom.

He stared at me, waiting for me to go on.

“I just wouldn’t want to be a disappointment…” I finished.

He sat back and took a sip of his water. “You think suicide makes you a coward?”

“Well…ya…”

He huffed under his breath. “That is the shittiest thing I’ve ever heard someone say.”

I started to get angry. “You know, I’ve grown up my whole life, learning to not take shit from anyone. Just live on, without worries. Who the hell cares what anyone says? I just don’t see how someone could back down like that.”

“It’s not backing down so much when people are constantly on your back about killing yourself.”

I got quiet, utterly in shock, for the second time that day.

I give up. I shook my head and closed my mouth, crossing my hands in lap so Callan knew I was done.

“What can I get you guys?” the waitress asked, coming up completely out of the blue.

“Um…nothing. I’m fine,” I told her.

Callan gave me this look, practically shaming me. And then he ordered.

I wasn’t going to talk anymore. I’m just making myself feel more like shit when that’s the exact opposite of what I needed. Callan didn’t deserve it either.

“Why’d you even want to come here?” he asked me, his voice lowering.

I shrugged and began rubbing my wrist.

He obviously got the point. He grabbed my wrist from under the table and ran his fingers across the scars. I buried my mouth into my shoulder, keeping myself from crying out.

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, but they went away quickly. At least we were in this tiny corner by ourselves, where no one has to see us.

The waitress came back with Callan’s food, but he stopped her before she could leave. “Actually, can I get a box? We’d rather just take this on the road.”

“Of course.” She smiled and walked away, like things weren’t getting intense between us.

His fingers still lingered on my hand, gently rubbing against the skin. It was the best gesture ever, and I couldn’t help but realize how much more attractive he was. Like he actually cared.

He packed his food in the box, still holding onto my hand, and soon we left the restaurant and were out on the dark streets again.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

He squeezed my hand. “For what? For covering it up? I understand you, Amelia. I’m not mad because you tried to get me to believe that you have this bitch cover-up.”

“If Jenna found out…I just…I don’t know what I’d do.”

He smiled down at me. “Shh. It’s okay. We’re in this together.”

A/N: Part II soon. This is when the story gets really intense.