Antidote

Chapter 28

No.

I refuse to believe this.

I turn my head away from Tristan, yanking my wrists from his hands, quickly pulling up the sleeves. He touches my shoulder, but I refuse to acknowledge him. I know if Lisa and Hannah were here, they'd tell me to just be honest with him, but there are so many risks to that plan. What if he thinks I'm crazy? What if he's repulsed by it? What if he never talks to me again?

"Alex," Tristan says, jarring me from my worrisome thoughts. He takes my hands in his, and says, "I think I know what's going on with you, but you'll have to take your hoodie off for me to believe it." I shake my head, numbly. If he thought my wrists were bad, I'm definitely not letting him see my arms. "Alex." He catches me by the chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. "Please take it off." Again I shake my head. He sighs and looks at me.

Then Tristan slowly reaches up and begins to slide the hoodie over my head. Appalled, I yank it back down. "Alex, please," he begs me, and I see tears glistening in his eyes. The sight of them shocks me and my determination begins to fade away. Tears clump behind my lashes. What does it matter, anyway? He's already seen my wrists. But, instead of letting him take off my hoodie, I feel myself begin to crumple.

As my knees hit the ground and my head falls into my lap, I find myself in his arms again. He hugs me tight, as if he never wants to let go. I'm as stiff as a board at first, but eventually, I allow myself to cry on his shoulder, resting in his embrace. Tristan strokes my hair as I sob, uncaring about my appearance.

I cry for myself; I cry for Tristan, who never asked to be so involved with me; I cry for my mom, who never asked for a mentally ill child; I cry for Lisa, who never asked to have an abusive father or a broken best friend; I cry for Reese, who never asked for cancer; I cry for Hannah, who never asked to have an eating disorder; And, lastly, I cry for Chad, who never asked to fall in love with a girl who'd leave him hanging.

***

When I'm finally cried out, Tristan sets me back on the stump and says, "Now can I see?" I nod. I mean, really, with all of that that just happened, what do I have to lose?

He carefully helps me out of the hoodie, exposing a slender blue tank top that hugs what little curves I have. He takes in my appearance for a second, then picks up my left arm. I wince as he runs his thumb along the various scars, all red and cruel. I know it's time to come clean with him. I can't hide forever. So, when he puts my arm down and looks at me, I open my mouth, ready to tell him the truth.

Before he can say a word, I say, "Yes, obviously, I cut. I have depression and that's my only release from pain. I know it's terrible and horrible, and you don't have to be my friend anymore if you don't want to. I can understand if you want to run away from me now. I'm sorry, Tristan. I'm sorry you had to see that."

He looks at me, obviously he hadn't expected such a full confession. Then, he wraps me in a hug and says, "Alex, I could never stop being your friend. You're a wonderful girl, and while I'm dismayed that you're cutting, it's not going to stop me from being there for you when you need me." I smile at him, a real smile. He smiles back, and then says, "And I'm going to help you overcome your self harm, starting right now."

Confused, I look at him. He smiles and pulls a sharpie from his pocket. "What are you doing?" I ask curiously as he picks up my right arm. Searching for a clear patch of skin, he looks it over before finding somewhere on my arm that I haven't cut. Then, Tristan begins to draw on me with the sharpie.

When he's finished, I see that he's drawn a butterfly and put his name inside it. Tears pool in my eyes as I smile up at him. "The Butterfly Project," I whisper hoarsely. He smiles and nods. I stare at the little butterfly that he's drawn on my arm, and I suddenly want to kiss him. Like, I really, really want to kiss him. My heart is bursting with affection for him, and I feel like my smile is about to split my face.

I look up at him and whisper, "Thank you." Tristan cradles my face in his palms and says, "No problem." Then he reaches into his pocket again and slips a rubber band over my wrist. "When you feel like cutting, snap it." I smile at him again and then ask, teasingly, "How come you've got these things in your pocket?"

His face sobers quickly, and I'm confused. "What?" I ask. "What is it?" He looks up at me and says, "I used to have another sister, Alex." "Besides Reese?" I say. He nods, then continues. "My sister, Carrie, used to self harm, too." I dip my head as I realize where this is going. "One night, Carrie cut too deep, and...died." He looks at me, gazing hard into my eyes. "And I will never, ever , let anyone go down the same path." Understanding slides onto my features as I realize that he just doesn't want anybody else to die of suicide, accidental or intentional.

I slide off of the stump and onto Tristan's lap. "Tristan, I promise I'll never go down that path." He looks me in the eyes and says, "Please don't ever." I nod in agreement.

Tristan looks down, then back up at me. Ringing his hands nervously, he stands up and I follow suit. He cups my face in his hands, then says, "I, um, there's, um, something I need to tell you." "Okay," I say, smiling to try and put him at ease. Tristan closes his eyes for a minute, then blurts the three words I've been wanting to hear since the beginning of summer: "I love you!"

Without hesitation, I reply, "I love you, too." Tristan's grin lights up his face, and I feel my cheeks go pink at  his reaction. He grabs me by the back of my hand, and, quickly, before I have time to say anything, he puts his arms around my back and moves me closer to him.

My breathing quickens and my heart skips a beat as he leans down. I feel my eyelids flutter closed just as our lips meet.