I moved slowly, cringing every time the stupid bed made a creak. I didn’t want to wake Colin. Not yet. The less sound, the better.
I tiptoed to the door and peered into the other room. I squinted to try to see better. Alex was a dark lump on the bed, her chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm. Did that mean she was asleep?
So far, she hadn’t heard me. Did I dare actually walk into the room?
No.
I had to wake Colin first. But how to do that without alarming him? He might cry out, and that would wake up Alex.
I walked back to where Colin lay on the floor. I nudged him gently.
He opened his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m awake,” he said, mouthing more than saying the words.
Relief swept through me. “I think she’s asleep,” I mouthed back.
He nodded and sat up. “Let’s do it.”
Again, the blade burned against my flesh. Take it out of your bra, Marj. You need to have it in your hand.
I drew in a deep breath, gathering my courage.
I was about to wound—perhaps mortally—another person.
“You have no choice,” Colin whispered.
Had I said those thoughts out loud? Or could he just read the tormented expression I probably had on my face?
Didn’t matter. He knew. And he understood. He’d been through a hundred times worse than what we were going through now.
Once more, I gathered my courage, my cut itching and throbbing. I reached into my shirt and pulled the blade out from my bra.
My friend…
Tingles shot through me, and my fingers itched to descend to the bandage on my thigh. I could easily sweep my sweatpants over my hips and slice into myself again.
Easily.
So easily.
“Ready?” Colin said.
“Thank you,” I mouthed.
He cocked his head at me. He had no idea why I was thanking him, of course. He was my focal point. He was keeping me focused, and I was eternally grateful.
I suppressed the shivers that threatened to overtake me as I walked as quietly as I could out the door and toward the lump on the bed that was Alex.
The blade flamed between my fingers, growing hotter, hotter the closer I got to its target.
Did Alex feel the tingles, the thrilling sensation? The torturous pleasure at knowing she was about to be cut into?
I didn’t.
Seemed I only got that when I was about to cut into myself.
Instead, jitters tormented me—jitters, and shivers, and shakes.
Closer. I walked closer. Her chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell…