Always Is Not Forever (Breaking Myself - Part II)

13. The One Where I Cut

"You were tired."

"So?" I stared at him and stood up from the bed. "You're not supposed to be good!" I clutched my hair in my hands. "Why are you so good to me?"

"Don't know about good." He pushed his hair out of his forehead. "But I do know why you wouldn't come to college some days, acting as if you were too engrossed in reading." He leaned in my direction. "It's okay. We don't need to talk about it if you don't want."

"I need to go. I need air," I said breathlessly.

"I knew you would ask the same." Grinning, he sat on the bed. "My shift doesn't start for an hour. Want to have lunch outside?"

"Terrace?" I muttered, inching back from him. Even if he saw it, he didn't say anything and nodded his head a bit with a smile gracing his face. "Can I make some sandwiches?"

"Alina-"

He was about to start on why I always insist on cooking, but I heckled and said, "I'm hungry."

Looking at the back, he nodded tightly. Relieved, I got up from the bed, vacated my room and went to the direction of the kitchen to look for some vegetables. Opening the refrigerator, I got the essential things out and placed them on the cutting board. Grabbing the knife from the stand, I started cutting the tomatoes into slices.

Sharp edges cutting through it, the juice flowing down it.

Cut. Cut. Cut.

Sharp edge cutting my wrist, the blood flowing down it.

Relief.

My eyes halted at the silver edge, covered in the juices. One cut. It wouldn't hurt much. Just once would be enough.

Cut. Cut. Cut.

Blood.

Cut again. You were aware of the vein that wouldn't kill you. Enough to leave a cut, but not enough to bleed you to death.

Physical pain.

No emotional pain.

I blinked and blinked again to find a hand on top of mine. I didn't say anything and let him help me with the rest of the vegetables. He was standing at my back, but I couldn't stop the tears rising in my eyes.

No more cutting.

What was happening to me?

I didn't want to cut, then why was I tempted? Why was I so keen on harming my own body? Hadn't I had enough of everything? Why couldn't I learn? Why was I so damn idiotic?

"Shh. . . " He mumbled against my ear, placed his chin on my right shoulder. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." I shook my head. "I wanted to cut myself. I don't want this."

He placed the knife far away from my eyes and circled his arm around my waist as I cried silently, letting my tears drop on the black counter.

Why was he making me feel so precious? Why couldn't he get annoyed at me for once? I was always crying over my past, always acting moody and parting with him whenever he tried to touch me.

He was supposed to get angry with me like mom got when I cried at childhood. He was supposed to punish me when I got moody as Rishi did. He was supposed to ignore me when I was in pain like Misha did. He was supposed to leave me alone like dad did when I needed him the most.

Leave me.

Show me I didn't deserve this love.

Don't make it hard for me to back out if we ended.