If You Fall

Thirty Five

T/W self harm/cutting with detail

I walked in on her cutting early the next morning. She wasn't trying very hard to hide it, taking refuge in the finished Little Mermaid room with her stuffed fox and some of Bella's vodka. 

I don't know if she wanted to be found or if she just didn't care, but the door wasn't even closed completely when I walked by on my way to get coffee. All we had over in the cottage was instant.  

Reed had tossed and turned all night, waking me up repeatedly, and I had given up trying to sleep. He'd taken a sleeping pill at four because I'd basically made him, and was still out cold.

I noticed the door and pushed it open the rest of the way without thinking, not expecting anyone to be inside. But there she was, a chunk of brown beer bottle in her right hand, drawing it hard across her own thigh. There was already blood on both of her legs, and a white dish towel stained red next to her. She sat in a tank top and running shorts.

She looked up, and her eyes looked feral. "Join me?" She held out the piece of glass.

I was so triggered by it all that my mouth actually watered at the thought, while at the same time my head swam because of the blood. I was never good with other people's blood. "Fuck," I said, and my voice was far away. My ears rang, and I felt myself stagger in that pre-fainting sense of unreality as I dropped to one knee while fighting to stay conscious.

"Addy," she said, her voice far too. "Addy, Addy, don't pass out for fuck's sake, oh my God," and she laughing. "Only you would make this about you."

The black was receding and I could feel pins and needles all over, like my whole body had fallen asleep. I was indeed kneeling on the floor. My stomach churned. I finally looked at her. 

She'd put the glass out of sight and was casually wiping her legs with the cloth. "Merry Christmas," she said humorlessly, which was strange given the smile still on her face.

"Who are you?" I asked without thinking, on a hunch. I sat back on my butt and hugged my knees. I still felt weak.

She smiled wider. "You already know about us? My, she's getting chatty. You can call me the Cutter, how about that." She held up the bloody glass again. "You're a razor girl yourself, I'm sure. The neat, pretty lines." She held up the glass again, turning it this way and that. "You should really try chunky glass. It's the best of the best." She pressed the corner to a spot just above her knee.

"Stop," I said, too loudly. "Please." I stood, wobbly, and moved to her side. Without hesitating I took the piece from her and tossed it across the room, wiping the blood on my pants. "Just, don't. Let Ari out, or whatever."

"Nah," she said, undisturbed by the loss of her tool. She pressed the cloth to her thigh again. "She's all whiny today, wants her mommy." She laughed as she rolled her eyes and it rose goosebumps on my limbs and skull. "I can't understand that shit. It's Mommy Dearest's fault we were there in the first place, not to mention the whole failing-to-protect-us thing." She suddenly had a cigarette between her lips and was lighting it.

I was in way over my head in this situation. I hesitated to say or do anything for fear of making it worse. My heart was beating too fast, my palms slick.

She appraised me, amusement in her voice. "You are really pretty. Shame about that fire." She liked the expression on my face and laughed. "Don't trip; I'm not interested in sex. I mean, none of us is, but Vixy has to pretend 'cause it's her job." She blew out smoke rings, one after another. "I mean, when we're hypersexual we like it. Or not like it, just can't get enough. So . . . what? You look nosy. I'll answer shit for you, I don't care. We don't have anything to hide."