Saturday, September 3rd.
I couldn't stay here.
My breath was growing faster by the moment, and the shouts and jeers of Oregon Ducks fans brought my headache to a unfathomable high. My ipod was all the way up, my glass of water empty, and my forehead sweaty. The closed off room in the corner of Olive Garden was concealed from the rest of the restaurant, but I doubted the flimsy walls kept in the boos and cheers that erupted every minute or so from the 30 people dining and staring at the projector on the wall.
I picked up my moms water and took a sip, hoping it would help me breathe easier.
It didn't.
I didn't do well with loud, crowded rooms, especially not on days like this.
"I'm gonna go get some fresh air. I'll be back." I whispered into my moms ear.
She looked up from her phone and nodded. Tucking my phone into my back pocket and my head phones into my ears, I ducked out of the room, hoping not to angry a fan by blocking their vision. I knew my music was abnormally loud, but it was the only thing holding back my tears. I rushed towards the direction of the exit as the room grew heavier.
Cold September air stampeded me as I flew out the doors, and I collided with something tall and hard, knocking my headphones out of my ears. Realizing it was a person, I looked up to find a pair of bright green eyes looking down at me.
"Sorry." I said clumsily, feeling the tears rush to the corners of my eyes.
"It's fine." He replied, and I stepped out of his path, not wanting anyone to see me cry.
"Wait!" He called after I'd walked a couple feet away. I turned around to face him.
The boy stood in the streetlight that glared down upon his shaggy dark brown hair. He was tall and muscular looking, and he wore a beanie that covered his ears. Looking about my age, he was dressed in black skinny jeans and a plaid shirt, he looked almost model-like. Any other day besides today, I would have been interested. But right now, I wanted nothing more than to be alone and let out the tears that I was so carefully holding back.
He took a couple steps towards me, and I took a couple steps back.
"Are you okay?" He asked, with a tone of worry cascading his voice.
"I'm fine." I lied, not meeting his eyes. If I did I might lose it. I needed to be alone. The cold was harsh and the wind blew against my back, and I accidentally let a tear slip down my cheek. I brushed it away quickly with my hand ,hoping he didn't notice.
But the boy wasn't that stupid.
"No you're not." He whispered, walking closer once again.
I habitually pulled down my sleeves, hoping nothing was visible.
"I don't really think it's any of your business." I countered rudely.
8"Whats your name?" He inquired.
I crinkled my eyebrows. Did he not realize that I didn't want him here?
"Ariana." I said quickly, wanting to finish the conversation.
"Well what's wrong, Ariana?" He said my name with a silly Oregonian accent, something I'd only heard from my grandmother before.
"Listen, I don't know you. I don't need help. And I'd really rather be alone, if you don't mind." I spat out, tired of the boy.
He looked hurt for a moment, and I felt bad. But the feeling quickly passed.
"Well, Ariana, I hope we meet again."
I tucked a black lock behind my ear and nodded at him before quickly hurrying in the other direction.
Finding a bench on the corner, I sat down, finally alone, and buried my face in my hands, my make up smearing with tears. Rain began sprinkling on my head and I groaned. Could this day get any worse? I'd moved. Moved from my home, my beautiful perfect home, to here. To Oregon. The most pointless state in the US. My tears mixed with the rain and I let my hair be soaked with the water. I glanced at my wrist, pulling down my sleeves once more to cover my cuts.
I lay on my moms bed, next to the wall. I slumped against the pillows, my eyes heavy but resting on the moving tv. My mom sat next to me reading a magazine, when I asked her a question.
"Mom, do you think I'll ever be pretty again?" I asked.
She looked at me quizzically.
"I mean, do you think I'll ever be able to wear a strapless dress again?"
She pondered the question, her finger running over my scarred shoulders.
"By next summer, I promise honey." She smiled.
I sighed, somehow in relief, that she would speak of it now. What hurt the most was how i'd convinced her it was over; when it wasn't anywhere near there. I rolled over, buried my face in the pillow that smelled exactly of my mothers hairspray, and got up to leave to my room.
I woke up in a cold sweat, a nightmare of my past haunting me in my sleep. Tears rolled down my face, my head pounded, and I felt naseous as the wave of pain hit me all over again. I instinctively reached under my pillow and pulled out my blade, and then just by pure feel and slid in across my wrist, pushing down as hard as I could. The pain centered there. My head stopped pounding and I focused on the feel of it. It took me a moment to realize where I was. My room was an unfamiliar clutter of labeled boxes and mischalaneous furniture. I pulled my phone out from under my pillow and checked the time. 3:19. I sighed, knowing that after that dream I wasn't going to be able to just fall right back to sleep. I needed fresh air, I needed to get out of this stuffy house. I stumbleed out of bed, my feet padding on the hardwood floor to my closet. I pulled a sweatshirt over my head and threw some leggings on the bottom. Tucking my phone into my pocket and my headphones into my ears, I opened my bedroom door and tip-toed over to the balcony that looked over the living room. It was pitch black, meaning my mom was already sleeping.
Relieved, I walked down the stairs slowly, unset the alarm, and tugged on some boots before leaving the front door and stepping down the steps. The oregon street was dark, but streetlights illuminated the road intermittently. To the left of me, our cold-a-sac ended , and to the right, another cold-a-sac was connected to ours by a road that ran down a little hill. From here, I could see the baseball field and the park down the road off the main street, and reluctantly began walking towards it. There was no where else to go, and the lights didn't seem so frustratingly bright there.
I checked behind me every couple steps, my paranoia of being followed unfaltering. Ahead, a car buzzed by in a blur, and I jogged across the empty street. All I knew, all i wanted to do, was sit on a swing and swing. Just swing and swing like I used to when I was little.
When I reached it I sat. And I let myself remember. Remember the times I'd had swinging. When Daddy would push me until I couldn't go any higher. When mom would sit on the bench nearby and laugh. Then I moved forward. Swings with my friends. When I had friends. I felt the tears come as I realized all I had lost all over again. I closed my eyes and let the tears come down relucatantly. I sat there, shaking with silent sobs, biting my lip to ease the pain.
"Need a push?" A voice came out of the darkness. I gasped and turned around to see a figure under the light. My heart started beating faster until I realized who it was. It was the same boy as earlier, at the resturant. I narrowed my eyebrows, looking at him with disbelief. "Are you following me?"
He laughed softly. I kind of wanted to smile. He had a cute laugh, but that wasn't the point here. He walked towards me a little bit more, into the light so I could see his green eyes shine brightly in the moons dull glare. I wiped my tears quickly and tried to rub away my smeared makeup.
"Ariana, right?" He asked, stopping his steps only a few feet from me.
"Yeah." I whispered.
"Why are you always crying?"
I looked up at him, annoyed and shaky.
"Why are you always asking?"
He smiled at me, and then walked towards me, only to sit on the swing next to me. He spun it towards me so he faced me. I turned away from him, facing forward.
"Do you live around here?" He asked, not taking his eyes around me.
I just nodded, not sure whether or not I should trust him with where I lived.
"I'm Nick, by the way."
I didn't say anything, but I was thankful to finally know his name. I slid my hands down on the chain and let them dangle below my swing.
"What happened?" He said, startling me.
"What?" I asked confused.
He reached out and grabbed my wrist, which stung from the cut. As he pulled in up into the light I realized it'd bled through my sweatshirt, leaving a dark puddle of blood on my sleeve. In realization, I yanked it away, causing it to sting. I stood up and started walking away, embarrassed and vulnerable. I heard his footsteps on the wood chips behind me, and was surprised to feel his grasp around my arm once again, and before I could stop him he'd pulled up my sleeve and was staring at my open wrist and the million other cuts and scars surrounding it. I tried to pull away several times, but he held me tight. I gave up and let him stare. He looked for a little, and the back up at me.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
I gave a little laugh and rolled my eyes, "Yeah I'm perfectly fine." He let go of my arm and I instinctively pulled down my sleeve and crossed my arms over my chest.
"You should get that cleaned up, at least." He said, a tone of caring in his voice. It surprised me, but I knew he couldn't actually care about some emo girl he'd met once at olive garden and again at a park.
"I will in the morning." I said quietly, looking down.
"Why not tonight? It looks pretty bad."
Why did he care?
"I-I can't my mom would wake up." I replied, biting my lip.
He was quiet for a second. "You can come to my place for a couple minutes and clean it up. My parents are out of town. If you want."
I looked up at him. His green eyes looked glossy and his brown hair was covering part of his eyes. I felt the blood seeping out of my wound and I knew he was right. I nodded silently and let my hands fall from my chest, only to feel his hand slip into mine. I pulled away a little at his touch, not used to such a loving gesture, but then let the feeling settle and smiled a little bit, relaxing my hand and letting him lead me out of the park. We didn't say a word as he lead me back up towards my house, but turned left at the stop instead of right. I found myself in the neighborhood opposite of mine, a cold-a-sac of stately stone town homes. We climbed up a green lawn, the dew shining in the moonlight, and entered the front door of one in the middle, and entered his house. It smelled warm, like cinnamon, and as his hand slipped out of mine to turn on the light I felt scared for a moment, not having realized how safe I'd felt. The house was nice, newly painted and decorated. I followed him up the stairs and we passed pictures of a family. Him, a man, a woman, and in some of them, a dog. When we got half way up the stairs, they led off to a pair of double doors that he entered, and I followed. The room was large, painted white, and smelled like mint. He'd decorated it with posters and pictures of people and places. A large double bed was against the wall with windows and a desk sat next to it. there were two bean bag chairs in the middle of the room facing the large wall of closet space. I looked around, and realized that Nick had entered the door that most likely led off to a bathroom. I entered it and saw him running warm water under the sink with a rag. He nodded at my wrist and I slowly pulled up my bloodied sleeve. He took my hand and brought it under the water and I bit my lip and closed my eyes at the pain. He saw my reaction. "Is it too hot?"
I shook my head. "Just hurts." I said quietly. I got used to the pain and he ran it until most of the blood was gone. He gently rubbed the area around it clear of blood, and then tied the rag around it. He shut off the water and looked at me. "You should probably take off the sweatshirt." I looked at him odd and then realized how soaked the sleeve was in blood.
"You can just throw it away.." I said. "I can't let my mom see." I pulled it over my head and was embraced with cold when I realized that all I was wearing was my bra and tank top.
"I'll wash it for you, if you like?"
I frowned.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I looked at him in wonder.
He looked at me for a moment, confused and pondering my question. "I don't know. Should I not be?"
I gave him a little half smile, handed him the sweatshirt, and walked out of the bathroom. He followed me.
"I'm going to go throw this in the wash. Do you want anything from the kitchen? I'm gonna get some hot chocolate."
I simply nodded and hoped he'd bring me some too. He left me alone in his room and I wondered over to his bed and sat on the corner. His bedside table contained a lamp, a phone charger, and empty gatorade bottle, and a picture of him and a little boy. In the picture he looked much younger. His hair was shorter but his face looked the same. The boy resembeled him in many ways, but his features were duller as he was not a grown child. Above his bed was a whiteboard with messages strewn across it.
Chandler- nice party bro.
football nickyc.
QUARTERBACKK! get it -evans
i love youuu nicky! love, jessi.
I read the messages that took up the board and found a couple pens resting on the attached shelf. In the upper right hand corner in tiny letters I wrote,
Thanks, Nick. -Ariana
Just after I'd set the pen down and sat back on his bed, Nick entered with two cups in his hand.
"Here you go." He passed me a warm cup of hot chocolate and sat on the end of his bed. I took it, and took a long sip.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
We sat quietly for a couple of moments before I decided I wanted to ask him something.
"How old are you?"
He laughed a little bit and smiled at me. "I'm sixteen. Junior. You?"
"Sophomore." He looked a little surprised and then asked, "Are you going to Lake Oswego? Cause' I've never seen you there before."
I shook my head again. "I start on Monday. We just moved here yesterday."
"Oh. From where?"
"Seattle."
"Why?"
I didn't answer. I didn't want to. I didn't want to lie but at the same time I couldn't make it through the explanation without crying again. But even thinking about it made a tear run down my cheek. I tried to wipe it away before he could notice, but he seemed to be expert on that matter.
He set his hot chocolate down on a table at the end of his bed and moved closer to me.
"It's alright, you don't have to tell me." He rested his warm hand on top of mine.
I was quiet, and then I looked over at the clock and read 5:07am.
"Fuck." I whispered. "I gotta go, my moms gonna wake up soon." I stood up and said, "Do you think I could come get my sweatshirt tomorrow?"
"Of course."
"Okay, thanks." I said quickly. I started walking towards the bedroom door until I stopped, turned around and said, "Really. Thanks, for tonight." I meant it. I don't know if I would have even noticed my wrist until I passed out from blood loss.
He stood up too. "Yeah, no problem." He started walking towards me, "But at least let me walk you home."
I bit my lip, knowing he'd already done so much and said, "Okay."
We walked down the now lighter street and I shivered in the abnormally cold September air.
"Oh, god you must be freezing, I'm sorry." Nick said guiltily.
"No I'm okay." I said, not really noticing harsh wind.
"No, here. You probably want to cover up your wrist anyways." He pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing his toned, tan abs as his tank top lifted up with it. I shook my head, not wanting him to freeze either. "It's alright. Please, just take it. I'll jog back home." I looked at his eyes and knew that he really cared, so I took it from him and pulled it over my head, the warmth and smell of mint engulfing my head. The rag bulged at the sleeve and it went past my butt, but it was warm. I wanted him to grab my hand again, but he didn't. We walked closely, but not too close.
"Is it just you can your mom?"
I gulped. I would answer it normally.
"Y-yeah. And the dog. But yeah."
He sensed my hesitation.
"You don't have to answer anything you don't want to."
We edged along the side walk, slowly growing closer to my house.
"I know."
I stopped in front of our tall house and turned to look at Nick.
"This is it."
"Hm, not too far." He seemed to smile a little to himself. "You be okay getting in?"
"As long as I'm quiet, yeah." I replied.
"Make sure you clean that up again in the morning," He gestured to my arm. "It'd be best if you had some sort of bandage around it."
"Thanks, doctor." I smiled a little bit.
He grinned at me and said, "Goodnight Ariana."
"Goodnight." And I walked towards the front door, opening it softly. Just as I was about to close it, he said, "Oh, and Ariana?"
I stuck my head out the door. "What?"
"You really should stop. You don't deserve it."
I knew he was referring to my cutting and I smiled, thankful.
"Goodnight Nick."
I stumbled up to bed with his green eyes in mind, and fell asleep dreaming of mint.
Hope you all like it:) I'd love reviews.
xo.