Can't stop

He tells me to stop.

But I don’t want to. I can’t.

It makes the heartache seem less… less prominent.

He at least knows I like him. How could he get with someone like her?

I skim the icy blade over the surface of my calf, unsure. He knows best most of the time. He might be right when he says I shouldn’t cut.

But sometimes he’s wrong. This is one of those times- it has to be. I have to tell myself that.

He shouldn’t be dating that kind of girl. She’s captain of the cheerleading squad, and she hits on almost every cute boy she thinks she sees. I can’t believe anybody would ever want to betray someone so perfect. If he was mine, I would treat him right. I really love him, which is more than she can say.

She doesn’t even know how nice, considerate, funny, and smart he really is. She only likes him for his football scholarship, and his beautiful body.

I really take care of him, unlike her. I pay half of his rent on the house we share, I cook all his meals, and when he’s upset- normally something SHE caused- I make him laugh. When has she ever done anything like that? The answer is never. His girlfriend is a cruel witch, and she’s so fake, it makes me sick. That settles it. No matter what he says, no matter how much I love him… I don’t care. I have to make this pain go away. At least, for a little while.

I lower my hand and pierce my tanned skin, my long, silky, black hair cascading all around me, and then, suddenly, salt water collects in my crystalline, pure ocean blue eyes as the pleasant, yet horrible, feeling of broken skin washes over me.

I feel the sweet, sharp pain of this relief, and watch a fine, deep red line spell out his wondrous name on my long, slender leg- “Bryan.” I love the feeling of the cool metal slicing through my skin. But it is quickly replaced by slight panic when I hear a gentle knock at the door.

“Hey, Jazmyn? Are you in there?” Bryan calls from behind the door. I move my gaze to the point I detect the noise coming from.

“Yeah? I’m right in here… brushing my hair!” I lie quickly. He doesn’t know I cut his name onto myself. I show him only my scars that are faint white lines, so he doesn’t know. If he knew the way I felt about him…

“Well, Jazzy, could you come cook dinner? I know you wouldn’t want me to burn the house down…” He says, probably smiling. But how would I know?

“Sure. Give me a minute, alright?” I tell him. “Oh, by the way, is Emma coming over tonight?”

“No, she said she has other plans. Cheerleading practice. Weird, though, today isn’t their usual night,” he says, his tone a bit worried. I know what she’s doing. Emma’s out with her other boyfriend. I hate Bryan being in the dark like that. He doesn’t know anything. His name is Alex, he has shaggy, dirty blond hair, unbelievably blue eyes, and teeth that are almost as white as mine. But Bryan is better. He’s gorgeous, and has a killer personality. Alex is just a jerk. I guess that’s what makes him perfect for Emma- the little bleach blond slut disgusts me.

“So… We’re still on for bowling tomorrow night. Right?” I ask Bryan, rinsing off the blood, and getting ready to go get something for us to eat ready.

“Absolutely! Besides, Emma has another unplanned practice that evening.” He sighs, and I feel bad again. I should tell him, but I can’t. He’ll figure it out by himself.

“Awesome!” I tell him, genuinely excited. I can’t wait. I open the door, wearing nothing but an oversized white t-shirt and white panties. Bryan starts blushing and stuttering a bit.

“J-Jazmyn… I had n-no idea you were dr-dressed like TH-THAT. I-it’s kind of… n-nice.”

I giggle a bit. He’s so cute when he stutters. I feel a slow, red blush creep across my face.

“So. I guess I’ll make dinner?” I ask, smiling. He grins back at me.

“Sure.”

We walk downstairs together, with him still blushing slightly at my clothes. Honestly, I don’t see a need to dress more. It isn’t like we’re going to be having any guests over. I walk to the stove, and dig in the cabinet beside it for a pot. “I’m making soup of some sort, and if you don’t agree, you can cook,” I say, smirking.

“Okay, neither of us really wants that,” he responds, a mask of mock horror on his face. “Please, please don’t be so cruel!”