Jack and I sit there for a while. Crouched on the floor, his face in my hands, my thumbs swiping away his tears.

He looks at me, but he's not really seeing me. He's trapped in his head right now, in his thoughts. I would be too, if he didn't need my help right now.

          If he didn't need me, I'd be crying in my room. I'd be fighting the temptation to go back, to see him. Because I miss him. I'd be torturing myself in my head with past memories. I'd beat myself down for leaving the man I love. I'd fall deeper into this pit of self-loathing that I'm in. I'd ask myself what I did to make him change. I'd blame myself for him changing.

          I will, but not right now. Jack needs me. And he's saved me, so I at least owe him this much.

Jack is unraveling. I see it in his eyes. See his sorrow slowly changing to anger. To fury. Rage. And it scares me.

But I don't know how to stop it.

I don't know how to stop him from falling into this pit. I don't know how to save him, how to fix him. How to bring back his bright, cheery, bubbly attitude. His goofy grin and silly antics.

So I just sit here, wiping away his tears. Because I don't know how else to help him. I understand his pain, but I don't know how to fix it. Cause no one could fix mine for me.

          Jack's tears are drying, leaving me rubbing soothing circles into his cheeks. My arms are getting a bit tired - and sore - so I pull back my hands from his face, making him snap to attention, his gaze focused entirely on me.

          "Why did she go?" He whispers, his voice cracking from the tears. His eyes gradually unfocus, staring blankly at the wall. "What did I do to make her leave?" He sounds so broken, so lost.

          "Nothing," I reply. His gaze snaps back to me, his eyes pleading. "You did nothing wrong. It just wasn't meant to be," I try to reassure him, to lessen his guilt.

          "It felt like it was meant to be," he says very, very quietly, so that I could barely hear him.

          "Then maybe it needed to happen. Maybe you being with her helps you find your soulmate. Maybe that's how you find her, when she heals you," I tell him matter-of-factly. I believed everyone had a soulmate, someone that they were meant to be with.

          "Maybe," he says, but he looks unconvinced.

          I hug him. I reach over and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him close.

          "You'll find her, Jack. Trust me. You're a great guy. If you can't find your soulmate, then I don't see how anyone else has a chance," I say quietly.

          I feel him hesitantly wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. His legs spread apart, to make more room for me.

          "Thanks," he says, his breath hitting my ear, making me shiver. "I bet you'll find yours soon, too."

          "Yeah," I say robotically. "Maybe I will." But I don't really believe that.

Jack adjusts himself so he's sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall. He pulls me even closer. I turn so I'm facing sideways. I lean my head on his chest, he leans his head on mine.

          And we stay like that for a while. Practically cuddling on the bathroom floor. Him wanting warmth and reassurance. Me just wanting a hug. To be close to someone.

          "I made you waffles," I say quietly, remembering the plate I brought up with me. Trying to distract him from falling.

He gives me a smile. Fake. "Really?" He asks, trying to sound happier. I just nod silently in response.

He lets me go, unwrapping his arms from around me. Leaving me feeling cold. I unwrap mine from him, too. I get up, walk towards his bedroom. I grab the plate off his bed. I turn around and give it to him.

Then I leave. Because I can feel my mask cracking. Feel my cool façade breaking, disintegrating.

So I go to my room. Lock the door behind me. Sit on the bed. Feel salty tears stream down my face. Grab a pillow and scream into it.

I scream into the pillow so he can't hear me. So he doesn't know I'm breaking. That I'm shattering into millions of pieces because I fell in love with the wrong guy. Because I'd do anything for him. Because it physically hurt when he was upset.

His eyes were beautiful. Gray, with a hint of blue. Cold and strong. I fell in love with his eyes first. They captivated me, held me prisoner. And I didn't mind. Because I love him.

And that was my downfall in the end, I guess. I loved him too much when he loved me too little.

My screaming has turned to shrieking. To shrill begging. To desperate howls and anguished wails. Because I fell in love with his eyes. Those eyes were my undoing. Gray with a hint of blue. My favorite color.

I find it a miracle that my voice hasn't broken yet. A twisted miracle. That I can still scream for him, for the person he used to be. I scream, and wail, and cry, and shriek, and howl, and wail, and shout.

I scream to drown out the sound of his voice. I cry and shut my eyes to block the sight of his face. I claw at my arms to forget his touch.

I'm writhing on the bed, face buried in the pillow, screaming bloody murder and clawing at my arms.

Because I see him, hear him, feel him. And I don't want to. I don't want to remember. I want to forget. I want to forget our first date, our first kiss, moving in with him, moving to Ireland with him. I just want to forget.

But it's so hard to forget when every moment we've spent together is playing in my hand. Like a movie looping over and over. Like the same song on repeat.

       I continue to scream until I lose my voice. Until my voice box can't make any sounds. Then it's like his voice got surround sound. Booming and echoing in my ears, getting louder by the second.

          I try to talk, to tell him to shut up, but I can't. I wasted all the voice I had on screaming.

          I clap my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound of him. It doesn't work, it just becomes louder in retaliation.

          'Stop, stop, stop. Please, just stop,' I beg in my head. It doesn't stop.

          I get up, off the bed. I stumble over to the dresser. To the blade I hid in there. I pull my hands away from my ears, the tears starting again. I shakily open the drawer, grab the blade, unwrap my bandages.

          I place the blade on my wrist, drag it over. Sigh as the relief fills me, as the memories slow down, the voice getting a little quieter, losing its surround sound.

         I drag the blade over again, the memories dulling a little. I keep dragging the blade over, alternating between my arms, until the memories stop. Until there's sweet, sweet silence once again.

          I wrap my arms up again, with new bandages that were on the dresser. I put the blade back in the drawer. Wipe away the blood with the old bandages. Walk over to the bed. Pass out. Even though it's around noon.

          The cutting and screaming must've tired me out.
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          Hey guys! This turned really dark at the end. I didn't mean for it to, it just happened. I thought about re-writing the end, but I think it fits them even though it's dark. The breaking fixing the broken. Has a nice ring to it.
Sorry if you didn't like it. I hope you did, but it got pretty dark at the end.
And I have decided on an upload schedule. I'll upload every Saturday/Sunday and on Wednesday. So I'll upload twice a week instead of once. Is that good with you guys? I might not upload every time on those days, but I'll try my best.
Do you think this story is going to slow? Because nothing's really happened between them yet. Should I speed up their relationship a bit or leave it going like it is?
The song is 'I never told you' by Colbie Calliat. (Sorry if I misspelled it). Let me know in the comments if you liked it.
          Also, you might already know, but I entered this book into the Wattys. I probably won't win or even get submitted, but I thought 'what's the worst that could happen?' So... Yeah.
Leave feedback in the comments, it helps a lot. It'd probably help this story become happier. Vote of you liked this chapter. Sorry again for making it so dark at the end.
As always, I'll see you all in the next chapter. Buh-Bye!!