I Don't Want You to Love Me

The hallway is silent as she slips into the bathroom with the Out of Order sign on the door. No one would look there, she knows that. She can be alone, she counts on that. The door shuts quietly behind her and she slips into the big handicap stall at the end of the row. She slides down the wall and sits on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and catching her breath before reaching into her bag blindly and searching before she feels her hand close around what she was looking for and squeezing.
The razor dug into the skin of her left hand. She sighs in relief before pulling it out and rolling up her sleeves, being careful not to get blood on her hoodie. She straightens her arms, palms up, and looks for a place to make a new incision. She picks a spot right in the crease of her left elbow. Pushing down lightly she glides the razor across the soft pink flesh in between a few pre-existing scars.
She feels calm flooding her body as the blood pours out of the wound. She was no longer thinking of the things that brought her here to begin with. She knows she will regret this later but she can't bring herself to care. She grabs some toilet paper out of the dispenser and presses it down on the opening to stop the bleeding. She is about to stand up when she hears the door opening.
Her calm is replaced by panic as she hears someone else's breathing join her own. Her body tenses and she doesn't make a sound. She hears the person down the wall to the floor, breathing heavily like they had been running. She doesn't move.
"Phew. I can't believe he didn't see me." She hears what sounds like a male voice breathe just outside her stall. She doesn't at all recognize it, so that was a plus. There was a few minutes of silence, well almost, the guy was still breathing quite loudly. Her arms were starting to cramp and she didn't know how much longer she could hold the pose. Slowly she moved her arms to her lap but she didn't see the razor sitting on her leg and it falls to the floor with a metallic clatter.
"Whoa! Who's there." The guy asks. She doesn't make a sound. She hears him getting up to look under the stalls. "Don't make this difficult. I know you're here." Still she said nothing. She hears him get up and walk towards the stall, the moments seem to drag on forever as she waits for him to open the door. Slowly the door creaked open and she was met face to face with a tall boy with dirty blonde hair and soft pale features. He looks shocked as he takes in the sight before him. She doesn't say a word, she just sat completely still and waits.
"What are you doing?" He asks, his voice almost a whisper, all the color draining from his face. She does not reply, still more silence. "Please?" He begs.
She opens her mouth to speak but the words don't come out, instead tears well in her eyes and fall down her cheeks. He looks taken aback by this. Her body racks with quiet sobs.
"Don't tell anyone, please," she says in broken breaths. She is terrified, scared, and ashamed. The tears continue to roll down her cheeks and he just stares at her from the doorway.
"Did you......cut yourself?" He asks, his voice quiet and unsteady. She just looks at the ground and gives a small slow nod, biting her lip somewhat nervously. She hears him let out a long breath and sees him back up a few steps into the wall in front of the stall and sink to the floor.
"What's your name?" He asks, his voice colored with a darker tone, but still unsteady.
"Alecka," she whispers quietly.
"I'm Michael," he says, looking her straight in the face.