You Broke Me, You Saved Me (Jalex)

Chapter 1: Thanks to You

*TRIGGER WARNING- this story will contain content that readers may find triggering. If you're easily triggered by things such as self-harm, depression, domestic violence, suicide, and eating disorders (only slightly mentioned), this story may not be for you. Please put your safety first. Happy reading!*

Alex's POV:

It was raining. The drops hit the windowpane as the wind gusted through the neighborhood. Lightning flashed, the deafening boom of thunder exploding afterwards. I hated it. My anxiety didn't handle storms well, regardless of what else it made me think of.

I put my headphones in- a weak attempt to block out the storm outside. It reminded me of that night. That night I couldn't forget, no matter what I did to get it out of my mind. The night my heart broke in a way I didn't think possible. It's been a year and two months since that day, but every time I see him, it comes rushing back. It doesn't help that I sit right next to him in math this year- as if I needed extra stress during my sophomore year.

I hated him. Every part of me hated him, and I wanted nothing more than to never see him again. After what he said, what he did, I can't look him in the eyes.

"You ruined my life, Alex. You make everything about you and I can't deal with your problems anymore. I want to be happy and I can't do that with you around."

I'd broken down, but he didn't care. He'd just raised his voice even more. He'd taken my sweatshirts that I'd left at his house and thrown them outside, pushing me out the front door, which had caused me to tumble to the ground.

"You're my best friend. My only friend. I can't lose you. Please, please don't do this. I'll be better, I'll be happier, I promise. I didn't know I was hurting you this bad, if I'd known I would have-" he had slammed the door after that, cutting me off. Leaving me alone in the rain, with nowhere to go except home.

Home. That's what they call it, I guess. I was never there. The only place you'd find me is his house. That was my home, he was my home. My best friend's house was the only place I felt safe and where I wasn't constantly reminded how much of a piece of shit that I am.

I never confessed my feelings for him. He was the definition of perfect, and his smile was that of an angel. His laugh made even the darkest days just a little brighter, and don't even get me started on the way he hugged me.

We became friends in 6th grade, and I told him I was gay on the last day of 8th grade. He took it well, or at least I thought so. It was a month after that when we had our final argument. My mind keeps convincing me that my coming out wasn't the reason for him abandoning me, but a small fraction of me is suspicious that maybe, just maybe, he couldn't handle being friends with a homosexual guy.

Lightning flashes again, and I jump. I turn my music up all the way and hug my pillow. If only he was here- he'd always rub my back whenever there was a storm, and it would calm me down tremendously. Now I have no one to turn to but myself.

I couldn't handle it anymore. The heartache hurt too much, so it was the normal routine. I locked myself in the bathroom, pulling out the razor blade from inside one of the drawers. I dragged it across my wrist, slight relief flooding through my body for a few seconds. I repeated this three more times before falling to the floor, overcome with emotion.

When I eventually stood up, I hated the reflection the mirror projected back at me. My caramel hair was a mess and my brown eyes weren't nearly as bright as they used to be.

That's right. I was slowly dying and it was all Jack Barakat's fault.