The Redemption of Callie & Kayden

my tears falling almost drown it out. “But only for you. I’m only doing it for you.”
    I’m not sure I like his answer. I don’t want him to do it for me. I want him do it for himself because I want him to know that he’s that great of a person. One who gets the weirdo-Goth-Satan-worshipping girl who everyone was always afraid of. One who can break down indestructible walls. The kind of person who can piece a person back together again.
    The person I’m falling in love with.
Kayden
    I can’t believe what I’m hearing. She wants us to tell someone. Confess together. Tell our dark secrets to the world and let everyone do what they will with them. It throws me off more than anything I’ve ever heard until she almost says she loves me. She stops herself quickly, like she’s afraid to say it, but it’s enough that I can tell she means it. And it’ll mean something to me. I know that. It’s not like back when Daisy and I use to say it to each other. It was just a word between her and me that meant nothing other than it was part of the script. If Callie says it, then I know it means she loves me and I don’t know how to handle that.
Love… Love… Love.
What the fuck does the word mean?
    I don’t have a God damn clue and I don’t like how enthused my heart got when the words just about left her lips, like it’d been waiting around silently for that one word to fall from her lips and jumpstart it to life again. It doesn’t matter how I feel, though. She’s told me she’ll tell if I tell and no matter how much I don’t want to fucking tell, it’s done once she says it. Because I’d put my pain and shame out there to take hers away. I’d stab myself in the heart if it meant her life would be easier.
    We lay in bed for a while, listening to the ocean crash against the shore. There are birds cawing just outside the window and someone is snoring out in the living room. I hold onto her while she falls asleep, wishing this is how things would always be. That I could just lie here with her and be at peace with myself and life.
    But every nerve in my body is disturbed and adrenaline is coursing through me more powerfully than the waves outside. I’m itching for a razor or something sharp because I took the damn rubber bands off my wrists. I try to pinch myself a thousand times, and then I finally stab my fingernails into my skin. The pain and feelings that come with it keep building like the waves outside. I keep thinking about how I used Luke’s razor to finally shave off my stubble and even though I wanted to, I resisted the urge to cut my skin because I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing Callie in the alley.
    This time though, I can’t shut it off. It’s consuming me, the need, the compulsion, the overtaking desire to get it all out of my head and body. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I peek down at Callie, making sure that she’s still asleep, and then I vigilantly lift my arm off her and place it beneath her head. Inching my body to the side, I scoot out from underneath her and then gently lower her head onto the pillow.
    She incoherently mutters something as she twists to her side and tucks her hands below her cheek. I stand there for a moment, making sure she’ll fall back asleep and then I walk quietly across the room to the bathroom in the corner. I flip on the light and shut the door. Callie’s bag is sitting on the counter, and although I hate the idea of digging through it, I need a razor. The only other alternative is to slam my fist into something and that will make noise and I might break something.
    I rummage through her bag until I come across a small pouch at the bottom. I take it out and let out a sigh of relief as I spot a razor in the midst of her makeup and travel-size bags of shampoo. I take it out and run my finger along the top blade, testing the sharpness. It looks a lot like the first one I used: pink, with a strip of something at the top. But it’s sharper, and knowing that calms me.
    I decide where the best place to make the cut is, the place where she won’t notice. Finally, I slide the bandage down and put the razor to my wrist, not by a vein but to the side where there are already a collection of scars. My head is tipped down and I’m about ready to make the first incision when I hear the door open.
    I freeze. No one has ever walked in on me while I was doing it. And what’s worse is that it’s Callie. I don’t even have to look up to know it’s her. I