get away and put some distance between
us but his hand shoots out. He grabs my arm, his brown eyes troubled. “I can't
force you to get help. I get that. You have to be the one to want it. I just
want to help you and I feel completely helpless.”
“I don't
need or want rehabilitation. I'm moving on with my life and I can get better on
my own.” There is no way I am going to sign myself into some freak hospital where
they could drug me up and pick my brains.
Noah studies
me for a long moment. “Are we okay or did I just undo everything we just
accomplished earlier this evening?”
“Seriously?”
“Do I look
serious?”
Yeah, he
does. “You're worried I'm going to hold a grudge?”
“Yes.”
“I'm...no,”
I mutter. “You're impossible to stay mad at.” I'd been furious a few minutes
ago but the fact that he's concerned I am upset with him has my heart melting a
little bit.
Noah slowly
relaxes. “Okay. I think we better call it quits for the night.”
“I think so
too.”
“Blayre?”
“Yeah?” I
ask warily.
“I dredged
up a lot of stuff tonight. Will you please promise me you won't do anything to
yourself?” he asks with troubled eyes.
I purse my
lips and refuse to say anything.
Noah's jaw clenches.
“Good night, Blayre,” he says softly before he turns and walks out of my
bedroom.
The second
he disappears, I walk calmly to my door and shut it firmly before locking it.
Feeling
drained, angry and confused, I walk over to the corner of my room and kneel
down to where the carpet is a little loose. I take out the small blade I'd
pulled out of a cheap razor the other day and walk back to my bed where I sit
down. All the cheap shavers I'd had are gone and Noah had replaced them with an
electric shaver last week. I'd been annoyed but in reality, he couldn't stop me
from what I needed.
I grab some
tissue from within my nightstand and set it on my bed before wiggling out of my
shorts.
***
The next day
pretty much goes the same as the one before it. Cole doesn't approach me and I
focus my attention on school. When I get home, I once again set up my homework
at the kitchen table and I can tell my brother is pleased that I am sticking
around the house and no longer going out with Cole.
As I work on
my homework after Tate leaves, my mind shifts every so often to Noah and our
conversation last night. Not that I'd ever admit it to him but he did have a
point. Cutting wasn't something I was going to be able to stop on my own. I've
relied on it too long. I've also known for a while that I am seriously messed
up and I have no idea how to get better. I know I'm taking a step in the right
direction because unloading some of my stuff on Noah last night had made me
feel slightly better this morning when I'd woken up. I was able to look at
things with a fresh perspective.
It feels
good to know that someone knows my secret. Before, the idea has always
frightened me but now that I no longer have to hide it from Noah, I feel
better. I also realize that he only wants to help. For some strange reason, the
man cares about me. I have no idea what I've done to earn someone like him in
my life but I guess it's meant to be. Now that he knows most of the bad things
about me and hasn't run off yet, I feel good about our friendship.
Just as long
as he quits with this rehabilitation stuff. I am not signing up for that
crap. If I do anything, it would be maybe a counseling session here and there.
That's all I'm willing to do in order to start getting better. At least that
way I have more control over the situation. I could literally walk out the door
whenever I want. No matter what Noah says, if I chose rehab and decide I've had
enough and want out, I wouldn't be able to walk straight out of there. There'd
be people there to try to talk me out of it and they'd be pushy and determined.
I'm still
working on homework when I hear Noah come home. He walks through the garage
door with his backpack slung over his shoulder and he
us but his hand shoots out. He grabs my arm, his brown eyes troubled. “I can't
force you to get help. I get that. You have to be the one to want it. I just
want to help you and I feel completely helpless.”
“I don't
need or want rehabilitation. I'm moving on with my life and I can get better on
my own.” There is no way I am going to sign myself into some freak hospital where
they could drug me up and pick my brains.
Noah studies
me for a long moment. “Are we okay or did I just undo everything we just
accomplished earlier this evening?”
“Seriously?”
“Do I look
serious?”
Yeah, he
does. “You're worried I'm going to hold a grudge?”
“Yes.”
“I'm...no,”
I mutter. “You're impossible to stay mad at.” I'd been furious a few minutes
ago but the fact that he's concerned I am upset with him has my heart melting a
little bit.
Noah slowly
relaxes. “Okay. I think we better call it quits for the night.”
“I think so
too.”
“Blayre?”
“Yeah?” I
ask warily.
“I dredged
up a lot of stuff tonight. Will you please promise me you won't do anything to
yourself?” he asks with troubled eyes.
I purse my
lips and refuse to say anything.
Noah's jaw clenches.
“Good night, Blayre,” he says softly before he turns and walks out of my
bedroom.
The second
he disappears, I walk calmly to my door and shut it firmly before locking it.
Feeling
drained, angry and confused, I walk over to the corner of my room and kneel
down to where the carpet is a little loose. I take out the small blade I'd
pulled out of a cheap razor the other day and walk back to my bed where I sit
down. All the cheap shavers I'd had are gone and Noah had replaced them with an
electric shaver last week. I'd been annoyed but in reality, he couldn't stop me
from what I needed.
I grab some
tissue from within my nightstand and set it on my bed before wiggling out of my
shorts.
***
The next day
pretty much goes the same as the one before it. Cole doesn't approach me and I
focus my attention on school. When I get home, I once again set up my homework
at the kitchen table and I can tell my brother is pleased that I am sticking
around the house and no longer going out with Cole.
As I work on
my homework after Tate leaves, my mind shifts every so often to Noah and our
conversation last night. Not that I'd ever admit it to him but he did have a
point. Cutting wasn't something I was going to be able to stop on my own. I've
relied on it too long. I've also known for a while that I am seriously messed
up and I have no idea how to get better. I know I'm taking a step in the right
direction because unloading some of my stuff on Noah last night had made me
feel slightly better this morning when I'd woken up. I was able to look at
things with a fresh perspective.
It feels
good to know that someone knows my secret. Before, the idea has always
frightened me but now that I no longer have to hide it from Noah, I feel
better. I also realize that he only wants to help. For some strange reason, the
man cares about me. I have no idea what I've done to earn someone like him in
my life but I guess it's meant to be. Now that he knows most of the bad things
about me and hasn't run off yet, I feel good about our friendship.
Just as long
as he quits with this rehabilitation stuff. I am not signing up for that
crap. If I do anything, it would be maybe a counseling session here and there.
That's all I'm willing to do in order to start getting better. At least that
way I have more control over the situation. I could literally walk out the door
whenever I want. No matter what Noah says, if I chose rehab and decide I've had
enough and want out, I wouldn't be able to walk straight out of there. There'd
be people there to try to talk me out of it and they'd be pushy and determined.
I'm still
working on homework when I hear Noah come home. He walks through the garage
door with his backpack slung over his shoulder and he
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