Young Writers Society

Ebony

Three.

Proud to Pathetic.

I sighed as I sat there in his arms. I’d just gone from proud to pathetic in two minutes flat. So much for that attempt at the first romantic relationship in two years. I should have known not to kiss him. Was I really that stupid to not consider what had happened back then? Because knowing my overly-emotional self, I should have known I would automatically burst into tears. I shook my head. Stupid, stupid Ebony.

And as I listened to him promise, a part of me, the bitter, untrusting, and scared part of me, didn’t believe him. Refused to believe him. And the brave little part of me sat back and quietly tried to push the fact out there that maybe, just maybe, he could be trusted. I tried to believe that little brave part, but after years of being insulted, of being left behind, and having promises broken and the pieces thrown back in my face, I just couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “I can’t Jack, I’m so sorry. I can’t– I can’t believe you.”

He stroked my hair murmured words of comfort, “I know, love, I know. It’s okay. I’m here, Eb, I’m here,” And he kissed my head, and rocked me in his arms and I felt like a child. I felt like a child who had just fallen over, gotten herself a booboo and run straight to her parent.

I’d wanted this comfort for a long time. But now, this new comfort I got from a boy I’d known for months, was strangely like the unwanted comfort and attention I got from my parents, who only worried and agonized over my behavior. But Jack didn’t know I’d had to change my name. He didn’t know that everything in that story was true, even the names. He didn’t know about the pills. He didn’t know about all the other boyfriends who were just as important. And he didn’t know about Taylor.

Oh, the blessed Taylor Moore. No one knew that I still had the boy’s jacket, that I slept in it almost every night. They didn’t know that I had all of the many baseball caps he bought for me. Everything he’d left at my house, or given to me, was kept in a shoe box shoved in a corner of my closet, to be taken out at the random times of craved reassurance. We still texted every once in a while, and when we talked on the phone the conversation could last for hours.

He told me how everything was back home, and it only made me want to go back that much more. He was like a twin brother I had left behind. I hated being hundreds and hundreds of miles away from him. Tonight I would update him on the Jack thing. Tay-Tay already knew how I’d made friends with Jack, and I’d reassured him many times that he was the only one with bestest best friend status in my life.

Coming back to the present, I stood, and looked at Jack with a slightly pleading expression. “I’m so sorry. Really, sincerely. But I really gotta go. I'll call you tonight, I promise.” And I pecked him on the cheek, jogging off, book in hand.I don’t remember when I started sprinting, only that my wrists itched, and that home was the only safe haven. I needed to hear Taylor’ s voice, to get the vision of a razor blade out of my head.

~~~~~

Taylor didn’t answer.

I sit and watch the blood from the new marks on my wrist flow and tingle across the pale skin of the underside of my arm. Then I grab a tissue and press the material to my skin, staring as the white turns scarlet. I don’t know why such a sanitary person as me does such a thing to herself.

I try not to do this. But I can’t help it. I get these feelings, these yearning.

The tiny flow soon stops, and as if it were any normal day, and I hadn’t cut myself a couple minutes before, I took out my phone. But I was scrolling through my contacts, and ended up at Nate S. As I pull down the sleeve of my hoodie, my finger hovers above the green call button. Stupidly, I pressed the tiny button, and brought the devise up to my ear in a daze. Somewhere, a voice in the back of my head told me that the boy wouldn’t answer. He didn’t. But I only wanted to hear his voice, and the answering machine would have to do. Butterflies in my stomach made me want to barf.

There was suddenly a low beep in my ear. Not knowing what to do next, I said the first thing that popped into my head: “I miss you, Natey. I love you”

I hung up before he could hear me sob.

~~~~~

The next day I woke up to a strange vibrating buzz next to my ear. In a tired daze, I swatted at it. There was a dull thud on the carpet below, and the buzzing stopped.

Jerking awake, I remembered yesterdays events and dived for the phone. The screen

displayed the fact that I had four missed calls. One from Taylor, one from Jack, and two Nate, the most recent being Nate’s second call.

I sighed and shuddered back an aching sob, the pain in my chest rising to it’s climax. My wrists were itching again. “Fuck.” I cursed under my breath. I was going to the doctors next month. The scars may not have faded by then, and putting make-up on them only made the old ones stick out more.

The house was empty. Silent. Letting out an angry sob like cry, I punched the wall.

My phone buzzed again, alerting me of the voicemail I had just received. Viciously grabbing the phone, I texted Nate and told him to fuck himself, before turning the phone off and calling Taylor on the land line.