I did it to myself.

I turn my head, so that only my cheek faces him. It’s cold and I can see my hot breath pouring out into the world. He grabs my chin, turning me back towards him.

“Sammy, what’s going on with you?” He’s worried.

My eyes cast down, following the movement of my swinging legs that can’t reach the ground. He asks me again, with more concern in his voice. I look up at him, his perfect blue eyes, and I start to speak.

At first I’m whispering as if someone will hear me, “I don’t know... it’s like I’m a different person. I’m falling apart.”

I stand up and start to walk away from him, ignoring his asking where I’m going. Suddenly he’s right there. He grabs my waist to turn me around, a little too hard, and I scream in pain.

“Sammy? Sammy what’s wrong?” His blue eyes quickly go grey.

I fall to the ground and instinctively pull up my sweater, pull up the bandages, and look at the cuts. They’re deep, really deep. I should have waited to look; I should have said it was a bruise…

“Samantha! What the hell is that from?!” He screams at me.

I look at him with tears in my eyes. He keeps yelling at me, and I keep ignoring the question. Finally, I decide to answer him.

“Who did this to you?” He demands.

“Well I did, of course.” I reply curtly.

“What the hell? Why?”

“Because every day, I wake up and have to see myself in the mirror, my ugly self. I have to hear everyone tell me I’m a waste of space and that I’m useless. So I decided that I wanted to be pretty. But then I starved for perfection. I stopped eating, stopped caring. It wasn’t enough, so I did this. There’s more too,” I stated, pulling up my sleeves, “it’s okay if you hate me now, if you think I’m gross. Nobody loves me anyway, I wouldn’t blame you.” I stop, looking at my fingers, tears running down my face.

He looks at me with a look that I haven’t seen in years, since we were kids.

“But baby,” he starts, “you’re perfect. I know you may not see it, but you really, truly are. You are perfection.” He stops, pulling up my sleeves.

“No, stop it, don’t.” I try to pull my sleeves back down.

“No, listen. I still think you’re beautiful,” he plants a kiss on each of my wrists, “and… I just wanted to let you know that I love you. I’ve loved you since I met you, and I’ll love you until forever.” He smiles at me.

And I love him too, and suddenly everything’s okay.