Page 37 of Bleeding Hearts
I don’t even realize I’m spiraling until I’m standing in my room, clutching four bags of cans and bottles to my chest as I look around at the partially clean space. Why am I cleaning?
I know why deep down, and it terrifies me before the darkness obscures that too.
I don’t want to be a bother to anyone, so I keep cleaning until my room is spotless and there is nothing for them to do if . . . if I leave. It would be easier this way for them and for me. No more pain.
My belongings could fit into a box or be donated. There will be no cleaning, no fees, and no one to miss me. I double-check the food in my mini fridge and throw it all out, and then I sit on the bed.
The darkness closes in around me like a suffocating blanket.
I didn’t plan this, it never even crossed my mind, but without the alcohol to dull my thoughts, it’s all I can focus on. It would be so easy to end it all. I’d be with Tommy again, and it wouldn’t hurt as much.
I don’t know how long I sit here, but I blink when a knock on my door startles me. Night has already fallen, and my body is stiff. Was I truly so lost in my own thoughts, debating how to end it, that I didn’t notice?
The knock comes again, hard but not like Alice’s insistent banging from the other day. Sighing, I head over to the door and peek out. Evan is leaning against the wall, looking unsure despite the hundreds of times he’s been here. Well, that was before . . . I don’t think he’s been here since, apart from after the funeral, and even then, he didn’t stay.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Can I come in?”
I step back out of habit, and he walks past me before blinking and looking around.
“I couldn’t reach you, and I just . . . had this bad feeling. Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I murmur. Moving stiffly, I turn on the big lights before sitting on the bed, unable to meet his eyes. What if he notices what I was about to do? What if he figures it out?
The bed dips at my side, and I feel him staring at me. “Lally, look at me.” When I don’t, he touches my arm. “Look at me.”
I glance at him before looking away, too afraid of what he will see. “I’m not in a good mood. You should leave.” I don’t mean to be rude, and I don’t want to be, but even to me, my voice sounds odd.
He drops to his knees before me, clutching my hands. “What’s wrong? You’re being . . . weird.” He looks around, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I saw all the bags outside. You cleaned up?”
I nod, unsure what to say.
“Why?” he asks as his eyes land on me once more, those bright orbs refusing to let me look away as he shakes me. “Why, Laila?”
Something about hearing my real name on his lips undoes me.
“I didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with my mess.” The words slip out, and his eyes narrow as he thinks through what I said.
“What do you mean?” he asks, his tone sharp. “Focus, Lally. What do you mean by that? Deal with your mess? Where are you going that we would have to?”
I could tell him about being kicked out of school, I could tell him a million things, but it would be a lie, so I just stare at him. His chest rises rapidly now, and fear leaks into his eyes. “Youmean when you’re gone, don’t you? You’re planning something, and you cleaned up so we wouldn’t have to.”
“It would hurt,” I murmur. “I remember doing it for Tommy. It hurt and made it worse. I didn’t want you to have to go through that for me.” I don’t know why I’m telling him all this, but it’s like I can’t stop.
“And where would you be?” he asks quietly.
I roll my lips inwards, unable to say it, and he shakes me harder.
“Lally, where would you be?” I shake my head, something invading the cold darkness—pain. Tears fill his eyes and spill down his cheeks. “See? You can’t even say it. You can’t say it, but you were going to do it?” His grip tightens as his lips tremble. “You were going to kill yourself.”
The word is a gasp, agony contorting his face, and I find my own eyes burning, wetness clinging to my lashes as I watch him.
“Why are you crying?” I brush the tears from his cheeks. “I didn’t do it.”
“You thought about it, and if I hadn’t turned up when I did, would you have? Would you have left me and not said goodbye? Would you have broken my heart like Tommy did and leave me all alone?” His words are like knives, cutting me to pieces, because the truth is I don’t know. I don’t know if I would have. It was a fleeting thought, and now that the moment has passed, I feel ashamed. “Isn’t it obvious why I’m crying? I love you, Lally. I fucking love you, and I’m losing you, and I’m terrified one day, I’m going to knock on your door and you won’t answer. I’m crying because I’m losing my best friend like I lost my other one, and I don’t know how to stop it or make it better.”
“I’m sorry.”
He surges up, the momentum carrying us back to the bed as he wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly like we used to,but this time it isn’t for fun, and there is no laughter or fighting. His arms are tight, like his hold can keep me in this world.
