I pounded against the bathroom door. "Jake, open up right now," I commanded firmly. I did a good job of keeping the anxiety out of my voice, though inside my head I was reeling. Anger, fear and tension danced inside my mind as I pushed against the door, heaving my entire body weight against it. "Damn it, Jake, let me in!"
The silence stretched and stretched and became more eerie. What if I was too late? The thought paralyzed me, almost as if I was unable to breathe. What if Jake had cut too deep this time? What if in his depression fit… he decided he really did want to end it? My heart missed a beat before starting to hammer frantically.
I knew Jake best. Screaming at the top of my lungs wasn't going to do us any good. Slow and easy was the way to handle this jerk. "Come on, don't be an idiot," I said, more to myself than to him, turning the knob again. "I won't yell at you."
No response from behind the door. The silence started hurting inside my chest. Or maybe it was the accelerated beating of my heart. Please, please, please let it not be a deep cut this time. Please, God, I know you hadn't given up on me… don't give up on him, too.
"Let me in, Jake," I whispered, pressing my forehead to the wooden door. I heard a click from the handle and my head snapped up. Slowly and with shaking fingers, I pushed it back.
Jake sat against the wall, his legs against his chest and his head on top of his knees. Tears slowly pulsed from his blue eyes. His black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and partially hid his face. "I couldn't help it," he said, his voice choked.
I fell down next to him, my hands fluttering across his right arm. My knees felt so weak. "Oh, honey, look at this mess," I breathed. Bright red drops slid down idly, oozing out of Jake's arm. I swallowed and forced myself to examine it in spite of the chill that ran up my spine. It didn't look deep at all; just a superficial scratch. What a relief.
I felt tears welling up inside my throat, but tried to hold them back. It was ridiculous that I would cry; I'd already been through this so many times before. The important thing was that Jake was alive. I blinked hard, using my shaking hands to pull my long brown hair behind my ears.
I took in a deep breath to steady myself before whipping my head around in search of a towel or something to press against the cuts. Rising to my feet, I took a white towel which lay next to the sink and moistened the edge. Moving around in the small bathroom, I did my best to avoid looking at the bright crimson liquid which now started pooling on the floor.
I squatted next to Jake, on the tip of my feet. "Did you not take your meds again?" I asked quietly as I touched the tip of the towel to his arm.
Jake rubbed his free hand against his eyes as if the soggy cloth stung. "I… I just…" I kept my eyes on my work, unconsciously biting on my lower lip. I didn't want to see his expression. "I'm sorry."
I sighed, touching his forehead with my fingers. I brushed his hair softly, as if I was an adult and he was a child, though, in fact, we were both just seventeen. This is what life can do to you; when we were kids no one would've been able to tell something would go this wrong… When we were kids Jake used to smile all the time. On a moment's impulse, I pushed his bangs away to the side so that I could see his face. The minute I did it, though, I didn't have the guts to look. "Don't scare me like that, okay?" I said, head ducked low. This action led my gaze to the tiles beneath us. I gulped at the amount of blood on the floor, the tears attacking my eyes again.
"I-I'm sorry, don't cry," Jake said softly. Seeming to forget about his cuts, he embraced me, holding me close to his chest, so close that I could hear his heartbeats. I could feel his blood seeping into my shirt where he held me. It was warm… and sticky.
The salty water dripped from my eyes, soaking up in his shirt as I breathed in his scent. "But… but you were doing so well," I cried into his shoulder.
Jake patted my head soothingly, and his hold on my lower back tightened. "I just got so sick of it all," he moaned, tears and helplessness coloring his voice. "I'm sorry."
I pulled back in order for him to see my face, a wet chuckle escaping my lips. "Are you really that sick of me?" I whispered. I winced as I said the words, because I thought them so many times. Every time he cut, every time he came a little bit closer to despair… I was here, so how could he give up? Did I really mean that little to him?
Jake shook his head vigorously, his blue eyes widening. "No! Of course not! Don't be ridiculous, Stace! I was getting scared that… that you'll grow sick of me. I'm just this useless…"
I took his arm in my hand, tracing the fresh cuts gently. Despite the situation, I felt as if a rock had been lifted from my heart. "Did you use a razorblade again? You promised you'll stop!" I could feel my tone taking a sharper edge now that I knew he was definitely out of harm's way.
New tears filled his eyes, blue as a spring sky. "I-I… don't be mad… please. I can't take that. Don't be mad at me. Don't… don't leave me." He looked so miserable, I felt my heart squeeze in pain. "I'll die for sure if you do," he whispered, resting his head against my shoulder. "So… so please don't leave me."
I wiped the tears that started cascading over his cheeks with my thumb, still squatting beside him on the floor. "I'll never leave you," I vowed solemnly, forcing him to meet my hazel eyes. "Never, ever, ever. So you don't even have to worry about it."
We sat for a few moments in silence as his tears decreased and finally stopped. "Are… are you going to tell them?" Jake finally asked softly, tear-tracks still evident over his face. His expression turned wary. "Will I have to go to the hospital again?"
I didn't pause. "Yeah."
Jake sighed, sneaking a peek at his arm. "I think it's not bleeding anymore."
"Good, I'll take you to the hospital. You might need that stitched." Despite what we said, we didn't move.
"I don't need stitches this time," Jake informed me, frowning at a spot above my head.
"Fine, then." I made a mental note to force him anyways in about half an hour when he'd had the chance to calm down. "I need to change my shirt." I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, biting my lower lip as I tried to plan ahead… Arriving at home with a blood-stained shirt was sure to worry everyone in my family. Jake shot me a questioning glance. "Mom," I said simply.
"Oh." Almost as if he wasn't paying attention to it, Jake's hand started petting my head, fingers weaving calmly through my hair. I loved it when he did that. I felt the muscles in my shoulders start to unclench. "Well, I'll lend you a shirt. I know it'll be huge, but you'll wear a jacket. Do you want to take a shower while you're at it?"
I swallowed quietly, feeling my cheeks starting to grow red. "Nah, I think getting you to the hospital is more important." I rose to my feet first, leaning down and stretching my hand towards him. "Let's get this mess cleaned up, alright?" I smiled at him.
Jake took my hand, and he was a little heavy to pick up but I finally managed to help him. He pinned his right arm to his side.
"Thanks," he breathed. "I really don't know what I'd do without you." His grip on my hand was tightened.
It made me smile. "Don't worry," I laughed, pushing all our problems aside for just one moment. "I promise I will never leave you."
I didn't know anything at the time.
