Unbroken {Solangelo}

chapter 27.

tw// self-harm :c

.:Nico POV:.

The day is here.

The day that Will is leaving.

I told Hazel and my parents, and, naturally, now they're all over me--tending to my every need and wish. They're once again treating me like a fragile china doll that they may break any time if they bring it up. Even Hazel is monitoring her every word as if her voice is a field of landmines, her words the bombs and me the land: if she steps over the invisible, non-existent boundaries with something she says, I might explode. At least, that's how they see it.

Thing is though, I'm not upset too deeply. It's not because I'm all philosophical and I don't feel the need to let go of Will because deep in my heart I know we'll meet again, or anything like that they put in cheesy romance movies.

No, I'm not upset because I'm in denial. I know it. My brain is refusing to acknowledge the fact that after today, I don't know when I will see my boyfriend again. I haven't let it register in my mind, because, I mean, why worry about what your brain doesn't think exists, right? By not believing that this is really happening, I'm ignoring it completely and the pain that comes with it.

I'm not becoming that crumpled piece of paper again.

* * *

From upstairs in my room, I hear a knock at the door. I groan and stick my in my phone, not about to get up and answer it.

Seconds later, my stepmom's voice rings up the stairwell, "NICO? It's for you!"

Great, now I have to get up. I groan again and roll over right off the side of the bed, landing on my ass in the floor and dropping my phone.

After practically falling down the stairs, I approach Seph at the door. She standing with a flustered-looking Will. From the window, I see a car--it's Will's mom's--with a trailer in tow and Will's own car trailing behind.

"I'll leave you two." Seph says and takes back to the kitchen.

Will gives me a half-hearted wave. "Hey, Neeks." He greets. "I just came to say good-bye."

I shake my head before stepping forward and burying myself in Will's chest, he ties his arms around me and lays his chin on top of my head.

"No, Will. Don't say that." I mumble into his shirt.

Will pushes me away gently by the shoulders and nods, giving a weak smile. Then, he turns around and glances at his mother, and when she isn't looking, he spins back around and sneaks a firm, sweet kiss onto my lips. I kiss back, but he pulls away again too quickly.

A car horn honks behind him, so he steps back and opens his mouth to say, "Goodb--I mean, see you soon, Nico."

I smile at him before he turns away and disappears into the car.

It's only when the vehicle has faded into the horizon when it dawns on me.

Will is gone.

Well, it less dawns on me than hits me in the face with a brick, but same difference.

Suddenly, my breathe hitches and it feels like my lungs are constricting. Panic twists in my stomach into knots, and my consciousness spirals away, leaving a hollow, scared body as I stagger into the bathroom. Despite my attempts to steady my breathing, my heart just races faster, beating my chest so hard I can feel it in my throat. I cling to the sink, barely able to stand myself, it's like my knees are giving out underneath me.

Shower. Get in the shower, something whispers. Shower, good idea, it might calm me down.

I shakily oblige to the voice in my head, turning the shower on and stripping of my clothes as steam fills the room. When I step into the shower, the water is so hot that instead of searing pain, I go numb after a bit. I do this sometimes. I make it so hot that at first, it feels like fire running down my skin, but eventually it goes numb, like how I wish I would be sometimes. Numb. Feelingless.

A thought flashes through my clouded head, a thought I haven't had in years. A tugging at my senses follows the thought, willing me to obey it. I reach up to take a little soap box from the top shelf before sinking to the floor of the shower. Opening the box, I remove the bar of soap and fish out the small, single shining razor blade.

It had been two years since I'd cut. I started after Mom and Bianca were killed, but willed myself to stop a year afterwards. I had hardly thought about it since, not wanting to fall back into the habit.

But now, I can't stop myself. I lay back a little as I place the little silver blade on the side of my torso. You can still barely see the long-faded pink scars lined across each side of my chest and stomach, and a few scattered on my shoulders. I always did it in places that I thought were least conspicuous.

Tears fall from my eyes, mixing with the shower water, as I push the blade into my skin and drag it across, watching as the beads of blood blossom in that perfectly straight line. I repeat the gesture, cutting into the flesh of my side and with each cut, relief washes over me in the form of dizzying pain.

Soon, my lower chest is one giant battlefield of cuts and scars, and my body feels light and sick, I realize I'm close to passing out.

I pull myself to a stand, letting the water rinse away the blood all over me, taking in the sting. I turn off the water and climb out of the bath, grabbing a towel and pressing it to my body as I make it to my room, lock the door and falling onto my bed.