Elio
Being restrained and unable to live life is no life to live. I would know. Can I just call you?
Me
No. I’m busy. TTYL.
Of course, he knew. I would never forget that he knew. Elio had been almost completely held captive by Jude for nine fucking years, unable to find his way out of the horrific abuse Jude had subjected him to. That knowledge was the exact reason why I didn’t even pause when I went after Jude, knocking him down and doing whatever it took to keep Elio and Crescent safe. Forever.
It seemed that everyone had turned their backs on me, chastising me instead of understanding why.WhyI was so fucking adamant about Star being safe.WhyI was so afraid for her. It was my fault—I knew that. I could get that. But Elio and Crescent both knew the horrors of this world, so to have Elio act like that hurt. It fucking hurt. It was my fault. It wasalwaysmy fault. My fault. My fucking fault.
Throwing my phone down, I picked the blade back up, taking off the protective piece of plastic over the sharp end. There was no doubt in my mind anymore. No hesitation as to where, or how, or just how deep I wanted to go. I pressed the blade against my skin and swiped. Sliced. Dug into my thigh, feeling the tearing of hair and flesh as it went.
When I pulled my hand away, it was shaking. I was shaking. The blood didn’t pool immediately; it took my body a moment to catch up to what had happened. For a moment, there was nothing but white and yellow, until what I’d been seeking slowly started to trickle in. Like water in a moat, the flesh and fat slowly drowned beneath rushes of deep crimson. Along with my hand,my body started to shake, as if it was an automatic response. My breaths came in deep, fast pants as the tips of my fingers started to go numb, and so did my tongue.
“Holy fuck.” I whispered it, though there was no one around to hear me. “Holy fuck.” They were the only words I could possibly think of to describe the panic I felt. Even when I was a teen, I’d never done it that badly. It was shocking to see and feel, but even more shocking that I didn’t want to stop.
I wanted to do more. I wanted to carve my insides into my outsides so I could remember exactly how I felt at this moment, and in all the other moments in the future. Shaking my head, I tore some toilet paper from the roll next to me and wiped up the overflow that’d trickled down the side of my thigh and onto the floor. My control was escaping, my crimson sadness going with it. Within moments, I was a mess.
Laying another sheet over the gaping wound, I stared at the blade I’d just used to pour my thoughts and confusing, messy feelings into. My heart beat into the pulsing blood flowing out of me, a slow, steady rate I could feel behind the cage in my chest. The cage that held my soul. It banged against the bars, screaming out in anguish, begging for someone to hear it. Anyone. Anyone and no one at the same time becausethey can’t know.No one can. No one can know.
No one can fucking know. I’d failed. Over and over again.
Myself.
My sister.
My brothers.
I’d failed God himself if he were real. If he were here. If somewhere up above, the stories I’d heard from everyone but my parents were looking down on me, I was sure he’d laugh and punish me. Instead of waiting to find out if the stories were true, I took the blade and sliced again.
Deep maroon, dark red, glossy crimson—it didn’t matter what I called the color, it was all blood. Oozing, runny blood that would clump as it dried, becoming a sticky, horrible layer on my skin. I patched myself up with toilet paper and hope, which I didn’t have much of.
Through it all, I never shed a tear. Although my thigh was streaked with my corruption, I didn’t do more than shake from anxiety. When it finally felt like enough, I covered the blade once more and set it to the side, staring at the art I’d created.
Elio painted with acrylics and brushes against canvas, and I painted with bloodshed. A living, breathing canvas, ready to be maimed with its own hands.
It took a long time for all of them to stop bleeding. Unsurprisingly, the deepest one stopped the fastest, whereas the smaller ones kept going, kept beating with my heart, kept breathing into a life nonexistent. I peeled the toilet paper from my skin, wincing when it stuck to the dried parts, and forced myself to stand.
The bath was never fun right after cutting my skin open, but it was necessary this time around. There was no way in hell a washcloth would be enough, or easier to use. All the movement—bending over to turn the water on, check the temperature, and strip my underwear off—caused a few of them to open back up, a trailing trickle running down my leg. My other leg almost looked lonely in comparison, the wounds there healed into chaotic, uneven lines I always hid away from sight. I didn’t have it in me to make them match tonight, though. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Maybe every day until I felt like I didn’t deserve it any longer.
I turned the water red, slowly sinking into the tub. My clothes were strewn along the tiled floor, a resting place for pieces of my facade. I leaned back, resting my head against the wall, and let the water wash away the blood around my new marks. My newburdens to carry. Closing my eyes, I ignored the way my phone dinged once. Then twice. Then three times. I simply stopped caring, stopped worrying, letting the slight sting of the water carry me into a world where nothing else mattered. Where my presence wasn’t important, and my protection wasn’t needed. Where I was just a broken moon, barely hanging on in the sky, waiting for the stars around it to explode and make something new, and hopefully that something new would be beautiful.
Chapter Seven
I couldn’t sleep,and Moon wasn’t answering my texts. After he’d asked me to leave, I’d headed straight home, carried my way through the house, and stood in front of my bedroom doorway. Staring at my empty bed only irritated me as the rainy day crept in through the blinds. I didn’t want to lie in bed, all cozy and comfortable, when I knew Moon was probably having a hard time with Star.
I checked my phone for what must’ve been the fifth time. All that was there were my three messages, back-to-back, with no replies.
Me
I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds earlier.
Please call me if you need anything. And by anything, I mean ANYTHING.
I’m here for you. No matter what it is. I mean that.
They were lonely, sitting in our message thread below the picture of Star and the address of the house party she’d been at. I wondered what Moon’s parents were like, seeing as they kept such a theme with all their kids’ names. I liked it. Moon, Star, Crescent, and then Elio, their son by heart, not blood. I bet they were nice people, like my parents were.
