day seven: cut and run

for weeks and weeks i stuck to sam like glue. i think she secretly reveled in my newfound need of her. she guided me through the halls, to classes, arranged rides home for us everyday. she created this cushioned wall around me, that no one could get past or inside, to me, without passing her first. she barely let me out of her sight. and, if i wasn't at her house, she camped out at mine, waiting for any word that might fall out of my mouth, or any change in how i acted. i felt like a science experiment, like i was being observed, day in and day out. and, i admit, at first it was comforting. being alone seemed to only make my heart race, my throat to close, and my hands to shake. feeling her near me, even when my eyes were closed, soothed me. it allowed me to take deep breaths, and occasionally even, to sleep.

but, it was starting to become claustrophobic, the way she was everywhere with me. and, how she was starting to make decisions for me, especially when it came to robert and troy. she vehemently blamed them for what happened, and kept them from me in anyway thatt she could. she tried to turm my attention to anyplace besides their direction. no matter what i said, or how i pleaded, she had made up her mind; and mine, by default.

if had stuck with her and not become so wrapped up in their dysfunction love thing i would have been fine, and it would never have happened. she believed this with every fiber of her being, and kept reiterating it to me anytime she thought she saw me waver.

"but, sam, robert took care of me. he helped me. he cares about me." i persisted, after she once again had answered my phone and told robert that i was out.

"he doesn't care about you, janie. can't you see it? you are just a cover for him, his cover girlfriend, so that he and troy can fuck each other without anyone bothering them about it. you see how they are to troy, what they say about him. you stopped that for robert, and for troy." her eyes are blazing, her hands flailing all aroud her.

i want to say something, want to stop her, correct her, get away from her. i want to see robert. she doesn't understand.

"you wouldn't be in this shape if it wasn't for them, you wouldn't have been mistaked for one of them. fuck, janie, i'm trying to help you." she is pacing now, in circles, her voice sharp and laced with bitterness.

"robert didn't hurt me, samantha. he didn't hurt me. that man did, not robert," the tears are coming, just on the verge of falling, i can feel them hanging onto my bottom lashes, ready to take a slide and fall ride down my cheeks. "you don't understand how it is between us. troy isn't part of it, not really. he's just robert's friend."

"you just can't see it, can you? you are blind when it comes to him. i hope i never fall in love like that. love that makes you this fucking stupid. jane, open your fucking eyes!" she is angry now, steaming angry, and so am i. we know the signs, the use of our proper names, her raised voice, and my tears.


“they are open, samantha!” my anger was awake now, and i was swallowing back the tears. the rage was part of my feelings for him, my defenses in overdrive, and all the pain from the last few weeks personified, and let loose. as if i was a pent up lion in a zoo cage and someone came by to taunt me, and accidentally hit the latch, letting me loose.

“why do i even bother? why? you are a disaster. i should run for cover while i can, before i end up being fucked like a gay boy in the back of some goddamn van myself.” i saw her mouth widen, and heard the quick intake of breath right after the words came out. i saw the regret paint across her face, but, it was too late. my recognition of her mistake, and guilt, came after my hand had already met her face, a hard slap, enough to leave a mark. i have never hit anyone in my life.

“get out of my fucking house. now.” my voice was full of ice and steel, anger pushing past and turning into something cold and final. i have never heard my voice sound quite like that.

sam's arms reach out towards me, as she tries to grab my arm, my shoulders, my waist, anything. but, i pull back. Si step away from her with my hands shielding my body.

“i’m sorry, janie. i didn’t mean it. god, janie. i’m sorry. please…” tears were choking her. i hadn’t seen her cry since she was a child, not since her brother. but, i don't care. i can't care. I can’t keep doing this. these walls have to be my own, and he hurt is too raw to relent, or forgive.

“leave.” i open my bedroom door, hold it open, glared at her until she finally walks out. she hesitates at first, staring at me in disbelief, and shaking; and then she runs out.

i shut the door then, behind her, walk to my desk drawer and lift up the papers and stationary set aunt connie had sent me on my thirteenth birthday, just under the jane eyre and lucky. i find a tiny baggie and open it, take out the razor, holding it with one hand, then i reach for the phone with my other. i sit down on the desk chair, dial, and while i listen to it ring i lift my skirt up past my knees, open my legs, and trace the fading bruises with careful cuts. the ritual starts, and i do not know where any of this is coming from, i feel outside of my skin. i hold my breath, cut, breathe; hold my breath, slice, breathe again. i stop when the ringing stops, and i hear the familiar voice.

"troy, i need something. can you help me?" it was the first time i'd spoken to him since that day under the bleachers. my voice was breaking, but my hands are steady now, at least. i watch the blood trickle down my leg, transfixed. it is like watching someone else's body, like in a movie, a character wearing my skin.

"i'll be right over." troy answers, but i barely hear it because part of me is already gone.