Chapter 25 - Together

*TW: SH*

Zack's POV:

She is asleep next to me. Her curls unprotected and unbound on the pillow, splayed out like a fan against the white. Amelia's face is peaceful, as though her dreams are making her content. I wonder what's she's dreaming of. In this moment, i wish i could feel closer to her than i already am, if that's possible. I want to be inside her, with her thoughts, her feelings. Maybe then i would understand the infatuation i feel for her, the addicting lure that pulls me in everytime i look at her.

Amelia's leg is draped over my body, the duvet hangs loosely over her naked body to preserve her. She could be moulded to look like this forever, and we could stay here forever. Intertwined, like we should be, for eternity. I want nothing to change. i want no other thoughts, no other feelings but her, in this moment. I want this dream, for the rest of my life. Her skin is soft against me, like the most expensive silk. She is warm, but not hot. Amelia is perfect, delicate, she is whole. I could never see her as anything else.

She makes me want to stay here. The thing is that i am in her orbit. As soon as i step into the real world, where she is not, i am falling. Amelia is good at keeping me here, but she cannot fix me, not completely. As much as i'd hoped, and prayed, that she could, as much as i've given myself to her and tried to let myself be malleable, i have not changed because i still have the same urges that have always been there. I wish for my whole being that i could not be like this. I want to scream, i want to become something that i would never be, i want to rip of my skin, i want it all to stop. Somedays i do not know i am still here. I take the medications, i do the exercises, i eat right. I do everything right, and yet when i fall asleep i hear it calling. On the breeze, it whistles its dark tune; hauntingly deadly. I will follow it's heartbreakingly beautiful melody where it wants; to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the roof. 

It calls to me, and i am in awe of it that i do not stop to question if it even want this, or if i need it. It carries me, weightless and spinning, attemporal through the sky, to wherever i can make myself bleed. It wants payment; the longer i am here, the more it expects in return. But since Amelia has been here, it calls to me and i do not follow. I pretend i do not hear it, i pretend the soft howls aren't growing into screams, clawing at the inside of my head until i can no longer stand it. Everyday i ignore it, i feel it adding weights onto me, until it feels like i'll never move again. 

I move, slowly and heavily, as though i am in a daze now. Through the flat, naked, barefoot. The wood is cold beneath my feet. I open the door to the bathroom, not even opening my eyes. I do not need to, i know what to do. I know just by feeling that i clasp the straight edged razor taped to the back of the sink. Sitting on the closed toilet, i feel the weight in my hand. Steel, cold and sharp. It reminds me of the feel of hospital lights, shining down on me, day and night. I think of Amelia. My lovely, precious Amelia. I think of how she must of felt in that awful moment, the last time i was in this position, with this razor. The pain inside my body expands as though my skin might burst thinking about Amelia on the floor of this bathroom, holding me while i paint the floor red. 

For a fleeting moment, i think about why i want to cut myself. No answers come to mind. And yet there is that familiar ache within me, only subsided by pain. I feel cold, now. Numb. I have no thoughts in my head, only the pain inside me. I cannot bare anything in this moment, i want nothing. I desire to be floating, to be painless and free. My fingers are steady as i find a gap on my left thigh. Four seems to be a good number. I look at it for a moment, waiting for something magical to happen. As if my blood is going to drip down my leg, healing all my cuts along the way. I almost laugh at myself. Red wells along my skin, bright and shocking. My face feels itchy, i touch my hand to my face and find myself crying. Oh. I don't feel particularly sad, i don't particularly feel anything. 

My blood flows down, down, down. It creates drops on the white floor. I watch it, transfixed. My body is empty of all pain, my brain is empty. For a moment, i just sit here. It takes almost a minute for the guilt to come flooding it. Sometimes it's instant, but today it's all consuming. I know i am the problem, i know i am hurting Amelia. But she does not need to know what i have just done, because it will only cause her more pain, more worry. She does not need to worry about me, i say to myself. I am fine, see? 

I press four squares of folded toilet roll to my thigh, press it hard against the cuts. I do not feel the pain, it is a dull ache. I want to scream again, because even this hasn't helped the numbness. I want to climb into my own bed, without Amelia, because i don't want to explain myself. I am embarrassed and guilty about what i have just done. I am angry at myself, because i was making progress. I feel my hands hit my head repeatedly, banging my skull until i feel calmer. 

"Zack?" A small voice calls to me, distantly from somewhere to the left of me.

I lower my hands, turning my head. Amelia stands, naked with her arms folded against her chest. Her expression is one i cannot read, but i know my heart is breaking slowly just by looking at her looking at me like this. 

"Amelia," i whisper. I do not know what to say.

"Zack," she whispers back, her voice thick with emotion. In the low moonlight coming from the open window i see her cheeks are reflective, a river of tears. She does not move any closer, unsure what to do next.

"Please don't come in," i say quietly, looking away from her. 

Amelia sniffs, her hands falling open and wiping her face. She turns around and walks away slowly. I watch as she walks, feeling myself hating myself more and more. 

I contemplate cutting myself again, but i don't want her to come in again. I hit my head again, because what sort of person thinks that after just saying that they love someone? I love Amelia, more than i love cutting. I know this, i had decided this is in the hospital. 

I see a silhouette in the doorway, and turn my head to see Amelia's small frame. She moves closer to me, and i see her carrying something. My first aid box. 

She kneels infront of me on the floor, laying the box onto the floor and opening it. 

"Was the razor clean?" She asks me so softly that i have to strain to hear her.

I nod, unable to speak.

"Are you sure?"

I nod again.

Amelia takes away the bloodied tissue from my leg, and placing it onto the floor. Her eyes widen as she looks at my legs. I know she is seeing all of my scars for the first time, minus the ones on my arms. I expect her to say something, hit me, berate me. Silence laps at us, swallowing us whole. 

She opens a package of gauze and places one sheet onto my cuts, pressing down gently to get the excess blood off the rest of my leg. Amelia places a clean gauze onto me, she takes my hand gently from where it hangs and positions it to keep it in place. She finds some medical tape and begins to rip it with her hands into pieces to frame the gauze in place. Once she has done all four sides, she closes the kit.

Amelia looks at me. Her eyes tell me that she knows how much pain i am in, that she does not hate me, that she loves me and is worried about me. I want to cry in relief. She offers me her hand and i stand, wincing as my leg straightens. She opens the toilet and drops the bloodied paper into it and flushes it. We walk away, Amelia closes the bathroom door behind us. She helps me get into bed, covering me with the duvet. She gets in the other side, putting her arm around me, resting my head on her chest.

"Zack, i love you," she says simply. "We are okay. We are safe together."

She repeats this until the tears on my cheeks dry, until i can breathe, until the pain inside me eases enough for me to slip into a restless sleep.