Soon, I lie awake in bed, to the sounds of London, the honks, the rumbling, the shouting of vendors selling their goods to people. It's early in the morning and butterflies lie in my stomach. I love him. I love my childhood best friend, Atlas. After all, we've known each other since childhood and he stood with me the whole time, even when I was struggling in high school. He and the nurses were the only ones who knew about my self harm. But how, how could a boy so hot like him, fall for a girl as broken as me?
It's a few nights later when he asks me to be his escort to a wedding, and I said yes. I knew it meant nothing. He just needed someone. I change into a white shirt, and a white skirt that falls just above my knees, and look at myself in the mirror. Too much. I pull on my ratty sage green cardigan. Once I settle into my clothes, I look at the shoes. Would I look dull with sneakers..? But I realize dresses and sneakers are the new trend. So I wear my white sneakers. I meet Atlas downstairs and he smiles at the sight of me, and holds my hand.
I hold his hand, and sparks fly. Butterflies rise in my stomach, but I battle them and squish them down into pulp. I sit down in the cool car and look out the window avoiding eye contact with Atlas. After the party, I come home drunk. I drank way too much wine there. I shouldn't have. The nurses said stay away from alcohol. It's a coping strategy without self-harm. I walk to the bathroom, bend over the sink and hurl out all the alcohol in my system. I feel better in minutes. I change into my loose plain shirt, and brown shorts. I lie in bed, and wait to fall asleep.
When I go back, I see my aid kit on the bed and I scoop it up looking around. Where did it come from? I leave the house with the aid kit and go to the store. I look for mason jars, creams, gauze, blades, cigarettes and a match box. I pay for all of the items, and the cashier ogles at me. She points at a series of pamphlets which were the basic seek help, if you are to commit soon. I pack the things in my cloth bag and leave.
When I reach Atlas's house, I notice a note on my bed, and it was Atlas's flowy handwriting that catches my attention. I set my bag down and put the mason jar on the floor. I smash it with a hammer. I clear the crumbs of the glass and collect the large shards, sliding each one into a small net bag. I set the bag in my aid kit, and then fix the rolls of gauze, creams, blades and cigarettes into their set spots. I put the aid kit on the ground and shove it under my bed. I pack the other essentials and shove that under the bed as well.
I look at the note and it reads; out of the house, on 4th avenue, house party. wear what u think is comfortable for u Bea. So I changed into my knee long jean shorts, a black t-shirt, and my black Converse. I walk down fourth avenue and hear the raging music. I walk up the crowded steps, saying sorry every five minutes I bump into someone and I soon see Atlas. A woman holding his hand. She was beautiful. Perfect sun-kissed cheeks and freckles, blue eyes and brown hair. I spotted a glimmering diamond ring on her finger and my heart stuttered. Atlas catches sight of me and immediately releases her hand. I grab a bottle of vodka and run the whole way back, my shins thundering with pain after I stop.
I open my bedroom door and pop the bottle open, chugging it. I lock the door and shut all the curtains. I grab my aid kit and open it. Tonight, I chose cigarettes. I sit down and light each cigarette one by one, and burn it into my skin. A yell startles me back into my senses. I dropped the cigarette I held in my hand. Atlas. I blow out the cigarette and throw it out the window. I pack up the condiments and shove the aid kit down, deep under the bed. I pull on my ratty green cardigan and open the door and Atlas runs in.
He said he was sorry. I said go back to her. He said, I should have told you about my girlfriend Ally.. at those words, I threw the half empty bottle at him. I said just get the fuck out now. He yelps and leaves. I slam the door on him and lock the door again. I pull out my journal and write, it looks like I've lost my childhood friend. My crush. What else will I lose now? I hide my journal under my pillow, pull the blanket over my face and cry. I wake up very late the next morning and walk downstairs.
I see Atlas lying on the couch. I don't even know how to touch him now. I grab the dustpan and walk back upstairs to clean the broken glass and vodka. I jump when I see Atlas standing in the doorway. I apologize about last night to him shamefully. He doesn't say much but he walks back to me and hugs me. He says, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her. I'm sorry. I should have told you I have a girlfriend. Those words shatter my heart. I tell him to go off, and go back to his godly girlfriend. I don't know what I said but he was shedding the most true tears I've seen in a long time. I lose track of time and I'm only brought back to my senses when Atlas brings me closer to his mouth, then kisses me.
It feels like eternity, but then he breaks the kiss and wipes his mouth. Oh, of fucking course he'd do that to me. I'm a fucking freak, right? He walks downstairs and I hear the front door shut in a thump.
I fall to my knees and cry. Sometimes I wished I wasn't a fucking fragile butterfly, needing constant help from every fucking body I meet. I stopped myself from crying after a long time I sat down against the cool bathroom wall. I wedge my aid kit in the spot beside me and unlatch the cool metal latches, revealing the red, red box inside. I open that box, and pick out the mason shards. I grab the gauze, the cream and the cotton balls and prepare to cut. Each cut feels better against my skin, and cleaning it was the best part.
I felt content and laid in bed for the night.