Cuts In Love

Something short I wrote late at night, when sugar was keeping me awake and I was deep in meditation. Ohm...

"Cutting yourself isn't going to make anything better." Dylan sighed in anger and pulled down his shirt sleeve. That made 4 cuts on his forearm, 2 of which had faded.

"Whatever. Why do you care?"

"Because, I'm your best friend. I give you advice when you need it."

"I don't want your advice." His friend, Lorah, turned to him on the bus seat.

"What is your problem? You weren't always this angry." Dylan flicked black hair out of his eye for the bazillionth time and shrugged.

"I don't have to tell you." Lorah punched him on the shoulder, making him wince. "Geez, what was that for?"

"For being a jerk when I'm trying to help you!"

"Look," he said, sighing, "It's difficult to explain and you wouldn't understand."

How could he tell her? Sure, they'd been friends since birth practically, but that didn't mean he had to tell her why he was cutting himself every night. How could he when she was the reason? That he cried because it wasn't ever going to work because of his personality. That he was an idiot for trying to stay friends with her. That he was trying, so hard, so... desperately to try to stay afloat in his life that was threatening to drown him forever. He couldn't swim, and he was drowning...

"Fine. Be like that. But can we move onto happier topics? Like... what happened to me last night?" Dylan stared at his hands before nodding.

"What happened?"

"Well, you know Hayden? The guy that I have been in love with for over 2 years? He called me last night!"

"Oh really? Why?" He tried to keep the pain out of his voice and inserted boredom instead.

"He invited me to his house party tomorrow. Isn't that great?" 

"Yeah, sure." Lorah looked at him strangely.

"You're not excited for me." He clenched his hands shut.

"Why would I be? Because the guy who has ignored you all your life decides that he wants to talk to you all of a sudden? Yeah, I'm real happy for you, Lorah." His voice rose and rose until it nearly overran the rest of the buses hub of noise. Her face reddened in shame and anger at his response.

"What, so I can't have a happy life because of your stupid depression? I have to babysit you so you don't kill yourself?" Dylan gasped at her. This time, she'd crossed the line.

Lorah raised her hands to her mouth at her outburst. "Dylan... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It doesn't matter," he said coldly before abruptly standing up. She grabbed at his hand before he pulled it away and walked to the front of the bus. "Let me off here." 

The bus doors opened and he walked off and away towards his house. The bus continued on without him, but not before Lorah could hop off and follow him.

'I forgot! I'm sorry!" Dylan walked faster to be rid of her, this girl that he was in love with.

Yeah, he'd attempted suicide last year. Everyone made such a big deal over it but they didn't care what had caused it. His father, who beat him and his mother. At least, until his Mom decide to up and leave Dylan by himself to deal with the monster. His Dad drunk himself to death, but he didn't die.

So Dylan decided that he wanted to die.

And he would've, if Lorah hadn't busted into his room and desperately called 911. Already he was blacking out from excessive blood loss, and the ambulance was almost too late.

After being that close to death, it changes you. And you can't go back. Dylan knew this ever since he woke up in hospital, and he knew it after he was released from hospital. He'd been dead, he was sure of it. And he'd touched Death's scythe on a whim, and he had laughed.

But here he was now, running away from the very person who saved him, who was continuously keeping him alive. 

"Stop! Let me talk to you!" The only reason he stopped was because he knew he should, and if he didn't, something Bad was going to happen.

"What?" She looked up to him with tears in her icy eyes.

"Just tell me. Why the cuts, the suicide attempt.. Please, tell me."

"My father is an alcoholic who regularly beats me until I am bruised and almost bloody. My mother left me with this madman because she didn't care about me. She left me to die." Lorah's eyes widened as he spoke these words. "And the worst thing is that I can't escape. You know why? Because of you. You saved me from my peaceful death, and before that, you tried to stop me from attempting to die. And now, you are chaining me to life."

"I didn't realize." 

"Do you know what it's like to know that you can't escape? Because of someone you love, who you love so much that you can't die?" Lorah now had tears pouring from her eyes, and it broke Dylan's heart just as hers broke. 

So she hugged him, as if she could hold him together until she manged to stitch him back together. As if she could put all the little pieces of him back together as one. She listened to his nonrhythmic heart that beat at irregular times, and cried.

"We can escape. Every day, every night."

"No, I can't." Dylan's words ruffled her blonde hair like the wind.

"I won't leave you here. I can help you, somehow." He pulled away and shook his head.

"It's better if you don't see me again. Don't try to stop me, Lorah. I can't go through it again." And because of his words, Lorah grabbed him again.

"I'm not letting you go. Not if you're going to kill yourself. We stay together, and if that means we both have to die..."

"No, no, no!" Each word was higher than the last. Dylan shoved her back roughly.

"But Dylan..."

"You don't deserve to have to be me, to have to take care of me, to die with me. You need to live your life, you'll do... something, anything with your life. Don't ruin your life because of mine." He ran away from he then, knowing that if he stayed then he wouldn't be able to do what he had to this very night.

She sits in her room, tear-less at last. He's gone. He's really, really gone. And this time, there is nothing that she can do. Dylan is past saving, he is past life, past Lorah's help. She rocks back and forth on her bed, thinking of the teen lying on his bed, blood trailing down his arms to soak his sheets.

His blood is like everyone's, red and thick. The only difference is that now, he doesn't need it anymore. She thought that she was tear-less. She is not. 

Once again she is crying, crying endlessly until she falls asleep.

Dylan is smiling as he stares at his ceiling, already about to black out. There is no more need for him to live. Not anymore.

The angels he dreamed of in his darkness drift towards him, stretching out their arms toward him. Does he really deserve to go with them to his final resting place?

They grip his hands surely, and their thoughts travel to him. Of course he is worthy. 

Maybe one day, he'll have angel wings. Maybe one day, he'll be the one rescuing the helpless.

The helpless that he once was.

Author's Note

Ignore the morbidness.

Reviews

[Winter of '97]

depressing!!!!!! Write something happy!(:

[RaspberryBullets]

So descriptive.