Ding-dong!

Ding-dong!

Ding-dong!

"Ugh," I protest to the early-morning disturbance. Sleepily, I swing my legs out of bed. Seeming as how the others in this house could sleep through a hurricane, I suppose I'd better go answer the door. I quickly toss on a bathrobe and run a brush through my hair. Then I stumble downstairs.

I swing open the door, and am met with a rush of cool, salt breeze. Inhaling deeply, I take a step outside to greet my morning visitor. My heart stops for a brief second as I stare up into Chad's face.

"Um, hi," I stutter. I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to explain to him about Tristan, but I know I have to say something. I can't just pretend that I want him still. But, I don't want to hurt him! He's still dear to me, and I keep his memory close to my heart.

"Alex," Chad says. "What's going on?" "What do you mean?" I ask, stalling for time. He looks upset as he accuses, "You haven't even called me! I was going to come over yesterday, but you weren't here. I thought you wanted to be back together!" I sigh, knowing I've got a lot of explaining to do. Another thing that's hindering me is that I don't know how much I should tell Chad. I need to tell him about Tristan, obviously, and I also need to tell him that I don't want to be with him anymore, but should I tell him about my cuts? I know he'll be wondering.

"Alex?" Chad asks again. I look up at him, sigh, and say, "Chad, I loved you. I still do. But I don't want to be with you." "Why not?" he asks incredulously. "I thought...I mean...You kissed me! Why did you do it if you don't want to be my girlfriend?" I look away, unable to bear the pained expression he's wearing. "Chad, I kissed you because I was trying to forget about another guy."

"You mean you just kissed me to help you get over your ex?" he asks, seething. "Not my ex," I say. "My longtime crush." "Okay," Chad says, calmer. "If you wanted to get over him, why aren't you accepting my offer?" "Because it turns out that my crush likes me back." 

"Oh, so now you're ditching me for the other guy?" Chad says, angry. "I see how it is." "No, that's not it!" I say, grabbing his wrists so he can't walk away. "Chad, I just don't feel the same way about you as I did that summer. Now I like Tristan and not you. I still love you, though. I'll always love you."

He looks at me as if he's trying to decide whether or not to believe me. I take his hand and say, "I'm sorry." He looks back at me and all traces of anger have disappeared from his face. Replacing it is a searing pain and hurt that I wish I didn't have to see. Softly he asks, "Alex, why did you end things between us that summer? Things were perfect until..." I know he's talking about when I ran off without telling him what was wrong.

I'm honestly not sure how much I want to tell him. I would've told him earlier if he'd known about Hannah's self harm and eating disorders, but I know he hasn't a clue that his sister is in so much pain. Tristan understood because his sister did it, too. But Chad won't understand. He can't. I know I have to say something, and I really don't want to lie. I do enough of that already. So, I turn to face him and I undo the knots of my bathrobe.

It slides off of my body and hits the porch floor with a thud. Exposing my short-sleeved nightgown and arms that aren't coated in concealer yet. I let him pick up one of my arms and run his fingers over the red scars, which multiplied after I moved away. He traces each mark with his thumb, like he's putting his own special touch on them. When he gets to the butterfly Tristan drew on me, he stops and looks to me for explanation. I smile, remembering the gesture. "Tristan, the guy I like, drew that on me to help me stop cutting," I say, unconsciously letting him know why I had these scars. He nods in understanding and begins to trace the butterfly, even tracing Tristan's name, which is carefully engraved on one of the wings.

When he's finished looking at my cuts, Chad holds out his arms for a hug, and I step into them. Melting into his embrace, I feel a sense of closure, for I know that this is truly goodbye. After today, I will not see Chad Wilkins ever again. The thought makes me hold him closer.

Eventually, he releases me and I step back. I pull the bathrobe back on me and am about to step inside when Chad catches my shoulder. I turn around, and, impulsively, he presses his lips to mine. Knowing that this is sort of a 'last time kiss' to him, I don't pull away. The least I can do is give him a moment he won't forget, a bittersweet goodbye.

Breathlessly, I pull away when I've had enough. He smiles at me and says, "Thank you, Alex. Thank you for everything." I wave to him as he runs to his car and drives away.

Beaming happily, I open the door and almost run into Tristan. "Hi, Tristan." He glares at me coldly. "Yeesh, what did I do?" I say, laughing. "Don't kill me." Tristan just shakes his head and starts to walk away. I grab him by the shoulder, forcing him to face me. "No, seriously, what's wrong?" I ask, concerned by his anger. He shoves my hand off of his shoulder roughly and growls, "Don't talk to me okay? Just go finish making out with your boyfriend." 

My eyes widen as I realize that Tristan saw me kissing Chad, and I realize what it must look like to him. Tears well up in my eyes as I run after him. "Tristan," I call. "Tristan, wait!" I follow him upstairs and down the hall to his room. I get there just in time to have the door slammed in my face. I beat upon the hard wood with my fists. "Tristan, please! It's not what it looks like!" My only response is a guttural sound, resembling the growl of an animal. Dejectedly, I trail back down the hall to my room.

You always mess things up! I scream at myself once I'm alone. Look what you did! Tristan hates you now! Crying silent tears, I go to the bathroom and close the door. I sit on the toilet seat, sobbing without a care. This is all my fault! If I hadn't kissed Chad, Tristan would be here right now. With such ugly thoughts swirling in my head, eating away at my last thread of self-esteem, I collapse on the tiled floor, a heaving, sobbing, wretched mess.

Slowly, I pull myself up from my position. Hands shaking, I suspend myself in a half-standing position, head dipping down in shame. I open the cupboard door. I pull out my black makeup bag and resume sitting on the floor. Stripping from the bathrobe, I eye my arms. For a brief second, I think of Tristan, wondering what he'd want me to do. He probably wishes you'd just do it, I think to myself. Slowly I retrieve my razor, finding a bare spot on my left arm. The same one Tristan drew the butterfly on. I slash the arm, making a thin cut that barely satisfies my need. I look over at the butterfly, and sadness swoops over me as I realize that I just killed the butterfly, Tristan's butterfly.

I shove the razor into my skin again, barely noticing the pain as relief crashes over me like waves. It's short-lived, however, prompting me to cut deeper. And deeper. And deeper.

A churning sensation grips my stomach as I make my final cut, one that oozes blood all over the floor, making a sizable puddle. I know what the signs are, and I know I've cut too deep. But I don't really care. My vision is clouding and the room is spinning as I lay down to await my fate. The last thing I see before I pass out is two blue orbs, staring down at my lifeless form as I tumble into what can only be called sweet relief.

AN: IM SORRY! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! PLEASE DON'T HATE ME! I know, I know! But she might not die....People can survive severing an artery if they get to a hospital right away. Not saying that's gonna happen for Alex, but you never know with me. Please don't kill me.

All my love,

Em