Clay sat on his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging down. His right hand was clenched in a tight fist. I sat beside him, hesitant to touch him.
“You okay?” I asked, realizing how stupid the question was. Of course he wasn’t okay. Nothing about his body language said he was all right. His hands were shaking and he slowly opened his tightened fist.
“Here,” he rasped, dropping a razor blade in my hand.
I trembled as I took the small piece of metal and quickly wrapped it in a piece of tissue before putting it in my pocket. I didn’t say anything, scared that I would make everything worse for him.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Maggie. Not with them here. It makes me want to take that fucking razor blade across my skin, just to stop the way I feel inhere!” Clay pulled at his T-shirt over his chest. His breath came in rapid pants and I knew he was struggling for control.
I clasped my hands tightly together, trying to stop their shaking.
“I canfeelmyself losing it! I can’t hold it together knowing they can show up and walk into my house whenever they want! I wish I could just end all of this shit!” His voice rose in anguish and he started pulling at his hair. Then he started rocking, like he had that first night I found him freaking out after the bonfire. He made a horrible keening noise in the back of his throat. His tenuous hold on sanity was quickly slipping away.
I grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to stop his incessant movements. “Stop it, Clay. Now!” I told him firmly.
Clay shook his head. “No. You don’t understand. I hate them! And what’s worse is they make me hate myself! They remind me of every horrible and stupid thing I’ve ever done! They never waste an opportunity to shove the fact that I’m an embarrassment and a failure in my face!” he ground out, his words like knives.
I snapped. He was scaring me. It was like he was giving up already. And I wouldn’t allow that to happen. I grabbed his face and held it between my hands. I gave him a little shake.
“Enough! You are giving them all of the power here! That’s exactly what they want. They want to see you broken, a shell of a person. And you’re playing right into their hands!” I hissed.
“But they have all the power. I have nothing,” he whispered, and I could see him fragment. I gave him a gentle tap on the cheek.
“How can you say that, Clay? You have Ruby and Lisa. You have me! You have my heart and soul inside you every second of every day,” I said, kissing him on the mouth, trying to vanquish the darkness that had taken hold of him.
His expression was shattered. “I don’t deserve your heart, Maggie. I should never have dragged you into this hell I live in. It’s not fair to you. What kind of future can I give you when I don’t even know if I have one?” he despaired, closing his eyes. I felt tears rise up and pour from my eyes as I took in his pain.
“I love you, Clay. I love every single part of you. I need you to hold it together! Please! Do it for me, if not for yourself.” I was playing dirty. Using his love for me as leverage.
Clay’s eyes pleaded with me. “I don’t know if I can. I hate this lost feeling.” His voice shook. I gently rubbed his cheek; my fingers brushed his hair back from his face.
“If you’re feeling lost... well, I’ll just have to find you,” I said, with more conviction than I felt.
Clay leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine, our noses brushing. “I can’t do this without you,” he murmured. I closed my eyes at the raw yearning I heard. Was I enough to hold him together?
“I’m here, Clay. Always,” I said as our lips found each other in a desperate need. As we tried to drown all our fears in the feel of our mouths and the love we had for each other.
chapter
nineteen
things went from bad to worse. The arrival of Clay’s parents created a ripple that encompassed everything. I was still grounded, so I wasn’t able to be with Clay after school. And then he started disappearing. He would leave immediately after the last bell, often not even waiting for me after class like he usually did.
We typically tried to spend a few moments together before I had to be sequestered at home. But soon he started to bail on me almost every day. I didn’t know where he went or what he did. Not being able to keep an eye on him, particularly when things were so bad for him, was maddening. And I was hurt. Really hurt. I knew he was shutting me out. Hiding things from me. And when I questioned his behavior he became angry and defensive, refusing to speak to me.
Clay’s moods fluctuated like crazy. I asked him, on more than one occasion, if he was still taking his medication but he would simply ignore me, as if I hadn’t asked anything. It was almost as if he were self-destructing on purpose. As if he were trying to give his parents a reason to lock him away.
Is that what he wanted? Because he sure as hell was acting likeit.
When Clay showed up at my locker one morning, a week after his parents had breezed into town, I noticed the fresh cut on his wrist.
“What is this?” I hissed, grabbing his hand and pulling up his sleeve. Clay ripped his arm away from me and put his forehead against my locker over my head, leaning into my face.
“It’s nothing. Leave it alone,” he said in a low tone. The look in his eyes frightened me. He wasn’t teasing. He was telling me to back off.
“No,” I pushed, not letting him close me out. “Iwilltell Lisa and Ruby if you keep this up,” I threatened, holding my English book tight to my chest.
Clay’s face flushed and he reeled back as if I had struck him. He hit the metal beside my head, making me flinch. “Don’t threaten me, Maggie. That’s a stupid thing to do.” He hit the locker again and stormed off, leaving me shaken and confused.
