Tyler

“Tyler!” Ana screamed as I walked in the door.

“ANA!” I screamed back and attacked her in a big hug.

It had been so long since I had hugged her two years ago, like a lifetime. Then it dawned on me: I finally had my best friend back. Life was so good sometimes!

I pulled back from the hug. “When did you get back?! How are you? Why are you at my house?” The questions just spilled out of me.

“Well, I got back today. I’m doing amazing now that I have my bestie by my side. And I’m at your house because we are having a celebration sleepover. I brought my Batman PJs,” she answered.

I hugged her again.

“I’m just so glad to have you back!” I said and she laughed and laid back on the couch.

Ana was moving back in the house next door. It was perfect. My parents had gone out for the evening so we had the house to ourselves.

“Take them off. Show me,” she said when we were in my room later. She wanted to see my scars.

I proudly took the bracelets off to expose my now-fading scars. I hadn’t cut in a while. Pretty soon I would be able to go around without the bracelets on if I wanted to. Ana smiled.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said hugging me. I felt a ping of guilt as I thought about the blade I had in my back pocket.

“Ty, you left your phone at your house,” Chris walked in as we were still holding on to each other. “Who is this? What are you doing?” Chris said as I hid my wrists behind my back, but it was no use. He had already seen my scars.

“Ty, show me your wrists,” he said with an emotional face. I sighed and slowly removed my wrists from behind my back. He took them in his hands and ran his fingers over my cuts. A tear escaped his eye. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with tears.

“Why did you do this?” he asked.

“It was before I met you. Things were pretty bad for me, But now I don’t have to, Chris. You make me happy.” I said, looking into his eyes. He smiled, and I put my Bracelets back on.

He kissed me softly on the mouth. A thousand feelings passed through my body as he kissed me, all of them good. I felt… happy. For the whole time that I’d known him, I was happy. I had no one for two years until he came into my life.

“And this is Romeo, I presume?” Ana said with a grin on her face.

I introduced them. They hugged. It was lovely to see my best friend and my boyfriend getting along. Life was perfect.

It was a perfect evening. The phone rang downstairs and Ana went to get it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Chris whispered in my ear when Ana left the room. I was sitting on his lap, his hands wrapped around me from behind.

“Because I didn’t want you to leave me or think I was a freak,” I replied, my voice breaking. I was on the verge of tears.

“I would never leave you,” he whispered, his voice breaking as well. His hold on my waist tightened as he snuggled his head in the crook of my neck.

“Really?” I said, a tear escaping my eye. He nodded and slid his hand over my cheek, using his thumb to wipe the tear away.

He started to lean in, and so did I. When our lips touched, it was like the whole world melted away. There were no bracelets hiding big secrets, there was no disapproving father; there was just me and him, and the feel of his lips against mine.

We kissed. With each heartbeat the kiss deepened. It was like we were merged together; body and soul. His breath was my breath, he moan was mine, his smile was mine. The whole seized to exist and it was just Chris and I.

“Am I interrupting something?” Ana said walking back in the room. We had forgotten about her.

“Yes.” I said, smiling.

“Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but your make-out fest is over. Your parents are going to be here in a couple of minutes,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

The rest of the night was devoted to watching all the Batman movies and crashing on the floor. I fell asleep with my head on Chris’s shoulder, his arms around me. This is how I want to fall asleep every night, and wake up every morning, I thought. But I didn’t think my father would allow that to happen.

The next morning Ana went home to get freshen up and changes clothes. Chris wore, again, from my wardrobe. I couldn’t help but stare longingly at his body when he changed. He caught me staring at him. I smiled stupidly and went to change in the bathroom.

I felt the razor in my back pocket. I painfully slid it out, setting it in my hands. “Why do I feel like I need you so much?” I whispered.

It was horrible, having to carry this thing around every day, feeling like I needed it there. The only thing that razor gave me was a moment’s peace, just a moment. Then it was back to normal life. But I guess I needed that moment’s peace more than I had initially thought.

I slipped it back in my pocket, making a decision. I gathered every razor I had and walked out of the bathroom, and put them in a bag. I grabbed the one under my bed and put it in the bag, too, as Chris asked me what I was doing.

“I’m done with trying to hurt myself.” I sniffled. “I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want these anywhere near me.”

Chris wrapped his arms around me, tears in his eyes as well.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, and that meant everything in the world to me. I pulled away.

“I need to show you something,” I said, pulling away.

I took him to the forest, where I always went when I needed to cut.

“Ty, why are we here?” Chris asked. I took the bag of razors and set them beneath the tree. I fell to my knees. Then, I started to cry. Chris immediately put his arms around me, whispering positive things in my ear.

“This is where I would go to… you know… hurt myself, or when I thought about it. Whenever something really bad was happening.” I sobbed.

His grip on me tightened, and I felt his tears soak into the fabric of my shirt on my shoulder. I pulled away from him, revealing my tear-streaked face, and got on my hands and knees. I started to dig out the dirt, until it made a big enough hole to put the bag in. I shoved the bag into the hole and just looked at it. No turning back now, I thought.

I slipped the razor out of my back pocket and tossed it into the hole, then put the dirt back in, covering the bag. I was done.

I stood up, took Chris’s hand, and started to walk away; away from who I used to be. I wasn’t going to be that person anymore. I wanted to be better. I needed to be better. I couldn’t hurt myself again, for the sake of those I loved. I couldn’t hurt them like that. I wanted to move on from that, I wanted to be who I was now, with Chris. I didn’t care what my father thought anymore. I wasn’t about to tell him, though.

*****

What are dangers around cutting? Could self-hurting be seen as being suicidal? Why?