Forever Dark: Book 1 of the Forever Dark Series

Chapter 17 - Broken

I went in the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet looking for Tylenol. A handwritten note was taped to the inside of the cabinet door:

DAILY SELF-CARE LIST

1. Take meds. Don't forget!

2. Love myself.

3. Do something spiritual or creative.

4. Distract myself with entertainment.

5. Go someplace fun.

6. Try new things.

7. Practice kindness. Reach out to others.

I looked through the medicine cabinet and saw two prescription bottles with her name on them. Zyprexa she took everyday and Xanax “as needed for anxiety.” I wondered if I could talk to Faith about my panic attacks. Maybe she'd understand, or even know what to do.

I found some Tylenol and took two with water from the sink.

When I returned to the living room, Faith jumped off the couch. “Hey, I know! We should color your hair, or put some streaks in it.” She pulled a shoebox from under the couch and began digging through jars of Manic Panic. “I've still got blue, or what about purple? We could even do both. How wicked would that be? Imagine the look on your mom's face!”

I laughed. “It'd almost be worth it, except I gotta meet my dad in half an hour, and I'm not sure Scott would like it.”

“Or Naomi,” Faith added. “Can't forget about her.” She shoved the box back under the the couch.

“Naomi's not so bad. She's smart and funny and knows what's cool. She got me through some tough times. I owe her a lot.”

“I guess, but if you keep hangin' with that girl, I won't need the tarot to see your future.”

“Look,” I said, “I'll talk to her. Maybe we can all go for coffee this week.”

Faith snorted. “Yeah, right! Like Little Miss Popularity wants to kick it with me.”

“Naomi doesn't know you, Faith. She only thinks she does.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why? What'd you tell her?”

“Just some stuff.” I said, trying to play down the truth. “I had to talk to somebody.It was right after . . .”

Faith smirked. “I went psycho.”

We drank in silence for a few minutes, both of us pretty buzzed. The alcohol allowed me to say what I'd kept hidden for years. “I'm sorry, Faith. For everything.”

“I know,” she said. “I'm sorry too. My life was screwed. I didn't need to eff yours up.”

“You didn't. Being friends with you is the best memory I have from middle school. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I just wish things hadn't spun out.”

Faith smiled ruefully. “Trying to kill myself was pretty dumb.”

“I thought maybe it was my fault.”

“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “God, no! You really thought that?”

“Well, yeah. It seemed like you did it because we couldn't be friends anymore. I wanted to be there for you, but my parents wouldn't let me.”

“What I did wasn't about you. It was more about my dad leaving and my mom going to pieces. I just couldn't deal, you know?”

The room grew so quiet I noticed every tick of the clock. “What was it like being in the hospital? Did the doctors give you drugs and stuff?”

Faith ran a hand through her black and purple hair, smoothing it back from her face. She looked so vulnerable.

“It's all right” I said. “You don't have to tell me.”

“No, I want to. I was on a few different meds. They helped, but there were a lot of really bad side effects. I gained a lot of weight, for one.”

“No, you look great, but I'm curious. What was it like taking pills?”

“Depends on the pills. But seriously, the ones I was on back then were pretty heavy-duty. They let me go inside myself and hang out where no one could hurt me. Not even myself.” She held up her wrists. Faded scars ran from left to right. “They did a pretty good job keeping me away from razor blades.”

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You'll always have scars, huh?”

“They could've been worse.” Faith's finger drew imaginary lines on her arm. “When you cut, it's supposed to be up the road, not across the street.”

I gave her a blank stare.

“You're supposed to cut up your arm,” she explained, “not across the wrist. That is, if you're serious about killing yourself.”

I wanted to ask, Were you?  but made a joke instead. “Good thing razor blades don't come with GPS.”

Faith cracked a grin and did a computer voice. “Turn right at nearest artery and proceed north six inches!”

I choked on my beer. “Oh my God! You are so bad!”

“Me?” she said. “What about you?”

We hugged, and whatever awkward curse we'd been under was broken.

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