Jack had been nothing but good to me the past 3 days and that has only made my love deepen. Frankly I'm scared shitless at the effect this boy has on me. I never want him to leave my side because I don't know what I'd do without him. His hand hasn't left mine yet and I've been in this damn hospital for 5 days now. Luckily I get to leave today but not so luckily that means Jack will have to go home. My parents had told us yesterday that they wanted me to go home alone and would drop Jack at his huse. I don't want to be alone with my parents. Questions, questions and more questions are on the way and I don't know if I can handle them without crying.
Where has my life gone? The beginning of this year I wasn't even self harming, I started in March and I'm already ready to die. This self destruction has taken its toll on me, such a toll that I'm now on crazy pills. I don't want to take them, I really don't, but Jack has begged me to try so I'll do it for him.

The nurses run a few more tests before letting us go. They inform me to not get my heart rate to high or my stitches could pop, but I don't really listen.

My parents practically push us out the hospital door and into the car. Jack holds me into his side the whole way to his house, stroking my hair and whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

“I love you,” he starts

“I love you too.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I can try.”

“Your really beautiful.”

“Thanks Jacky.”

Jack just responds with a kiss to my hair before seeing that we've made it to his house and he slides out of the car after another quick kiss to my lips. As soon as he's gone my heart sinks. I want him back, now. I'm no longer accustom to him being gone from my side. His absence makes the burning feeling return to my chest but I try to push it away, realizing that I am being pathetic.

When we pull into the drive way of my house I just get out and begin to walk to my room before being stopped in my tracks by my mothers shrill voice, “Alex, stop, we need to talk,” I sigh but slump down on to the couch. I raise my eyebrows in questioning.

My mother asks a question I don't expect, “Sweety, how serious are you and Jack?”

I knit my eyebrows together in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Well you've only been dating a few months-”

“Five,” I interrupt her.

“Five months,” she corrects herself, “and he never left that hospital room.”

“He loves me.”
“Do you love him?”

“Yes,” I answer truthfully.

“I just think its two soon Alex, you guys are young. Does he make you happy?”

“Yes, more than anything.”

“Then why did you do this,” she reaches to place he hand on mine but I pull it away in anger.

“Someone can't just come along and cure me with their love, that's not how it works,” I reply, disgust lacing my words.

“Cure what,” I can tell my mother is becoming defensive. My father says nothing, but places his hand on my mothers shoulder.

“My mind! Its fucked up if you couldn't tell yet,” I snap at her before standing up and turning towards the stairs.

“I want you to stop seeing that boy,” my mother states sternly.

“Yeah that's not happening” I hiss sarcastically before stomping up the stairs and slamming my door. (A/N alternate answer: “That's a negative ghost rider.” Just whatever your feeling)

I boil in my own anger with tears pouring down my face and fingers clasping at my crumpled sheets for about an hour, trying to just calm my breathing. My head is spinning and throat clenching up when I hear a knock on my door.

“Go away,” I yell at the door, tears stinging my eyes.

“I just want to talk,” Its my fathers voice that answers me.

I hesitantly let him in and he slides himself onto my bed before speaking, “I want you to be easy on your mother, she's been through a lot these past few days.”

“Excuse me?!” I sneer, “She's been through a lot? Haha! Dad I was in the hospital! I just tried to fucking kill my self,” I lift up my arms and point at the massive cuts on my arm to add to the effect of what I'm saying, “I literally rather die than keep living, does that make any sense to you. Don't fucking tell me she's going through a hard time because I am so fucking done. I want to die, get that through your skull,” I tap my pointer finger on my temple, “both of you because it's time to come to terms with the fact that your son is FUCKED UP. I'm screwed and there is no going back,” at this point tears of anger are streaming down my face, my fists are clenched tight and my stitches are in serious danger of popping. I stand up and pace back and forth in my rage.

“I don't need that language from you son, we do as much as we can to help.”

“Bull shit, get the fuck out of my room.”

“I just want to talk,” my dad tries to bring calm back to the conversation.

“GET OUT!” I scream, stopping in my tracks and clutching at my hair in complete distraught. I just want him gone. I just want to go back in time and kill myself correctly

My father obliges and walks out of the room, quietly shutting it behind him. I have now entered full break down mode and pull tightly at my hair, falling to my knees and screaming. My eyes are screwed shut as tears pour out of them and on to my carpet. I scream a few more times before curling into a ball on my floor and shaking. All that can run through my mind is how much I want to die. How much I want Jack. How much I need my blade. I get up and pull open my bedside table drawer. I cut all up my thighs and arms resulting in more cuts than I can count, more blood than I can process. I sob again and pull at my hair before curling back onto my floor and staring at the darkening sky though my window, tears stopping and face becoming emotionless.

I don't know how long I stay there, but when I uncurl my stiff muscles long after my tears have dried and throat gone coarse, the sky is dark. I stand up slowly, sticky with blood. I stand disoriented for a few minutes before looking at the time 1:06 am. I walk quietly to the bathroom and wipe down my skin with a wet cloth to remove the blood and change into a crew neck and sweats.

I return to my room and make a rash decision. I pull out a duffel bag, filling it with clothing and everything I'll need to live for a few nights. I remember Joyce Barakat saying once that I was welcome to stay whenever, so this is me taking her up on that offer.

I slip on a pair of black vans and slide out my window, knowing I have no chance of getting out the front door without waking my parents. I decide that going downstairs to get my car keys is also to risky, as well as starting the car, so I set off for Jacks on foot. Its a cold 25 minutes before I reach Jacks house. I send him a quick text to open the door.

Just one minute later I'm standing in the threshold of Jacks house with his arms wrapped around my middle, holding my cold body tight against his, rubbing up my arms to warm my chilled skin. He feathers a few kisses on my cheek before I speak up.

“C-can I stay here for a while?” I ask in a small voice.

Jack just nods his heads not asking any questions yet, “Of course baby,” He gives me a sad smile and pushes a piece of hair out of my face.

We walk upstairs and into his room. Jack shuts his laptop and pushes it on his floor, turning his attention to me instead. I push of my shoes and put my bag in the corner. He crawls in the bed and makes grabby hands at me so I slide into my arms and push my nose into his neck. The next thing I know I'm sobbing again, soaking his pillow and neck.

“Shhh, its okay,” he coos into my hair before pecking it sweetly. I don't answer, I just cry until I fall asleep, Jacks words serving as my lullaby.

Notes