Page 41 of Paper Thin Love

Dance practice was shit! I couldn’t concentrate, which made Mr. Leblanc angry, so he kept hitting other students who didn’t have my last name. Students he could prey on. Guilt hit me, so I have no choice.

I just need to feel in control.

Luckily for me, everyone is either getting ready for the spectacle that is The Cleansing or practicing their forced-upon hobbies. Just because it’s the weekend doesn’t mean we get a break. I have dance practice every single day. However, the girls’locker room is empty at this time. Just the way I need it.

I’ve never done this in the closed doors of my dorm. I fear if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’d do it every night. Make it too simple for myself. So I do it publically when no one is watching.

I grab the medical supply box and bring it to the sink. The scent of alcohol fills the air, burning my nose as I sanitize the tips of my fingers. Then, I pull out the safety pin from the supply kit and clean it as well. It’s supposed to be used to clip the bandage wrap, but I have other uses for it.

I just need to feel in control.

It’s just something small, just the tip of the pin; it’s only a needle prick. It’s not a razor. One little poke isn’t as bad as a cut from a razor blade.

I press the needle to the tip of my index finger, watching it indent a circular impact into my skin and then—

Zap!

My inhale is quick due to the sensation of the prick, but my exhale is slow. Controlled.

I leave the needle sunken only a small bit into my flesh, and then I pull it out, feeling another zap. I roll my shoulders, knowing this is wrong. It’s so wrong. I’m sliding down a hill that’s wet and muddy, falling.

Why fight the uphill climb? Just slide. Indulge.

I don’t want to do this. If I were free, I wouldn’t have to, right?

Dash’s voice echoes in my mind like a hauntingly delightful friend.

“Just remember, Mila, being free won’t piece you back together.”

“What will?” I whisper. Of course, the devil hears.

“It’s usually the thing you fear most,” he replies.

What do I fear most? Maybe it’s that question.

“What the fuck…” a deep voice roars, then hesitates as if he’s opening the gates of hell to drag me inside.“Are you doing?” Dash booms.

Oh, shit…he just saw inside me again.

Chapter 17

Mila

I scramble, shoving items back into the medical supply kit like I’m trying to stop a bleeding wound. As my hands desperately try to shove everything back in, Dash’s crutch comes down on the box before he swings it and knocks it to the ground.

He’s in my space then. Consuming me, devouring all my dark deeds.

“You cut yourself.” Dash states with a mixture of shock, anger and, worst of all, disappointment.

How can a stranger be dissatisfied in me?

I shake my head. His lips press into a precise line so sharp and sterile it's like a surgeon's scalpel, ready to slice me open to see what's inside.

Don't do it, Dash; you won't like what you find. Dirt has a way of worming its way into cracks you didn't know you had. It'll only make your thoughts worse, Dash.

My gulp sounds like thunder.“Technically, it’s not a cut.” I shrug, trying to play it off as something casual and not what it truly is.

He inhales, his strong chest widening like the cages of a door closing in on me.“You think this is funny?”

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