her exhaustion obvious. ‘No, thanks. Straight to bed for me tonight.’
It was the reply I’d been hoping for. ‘Me too.’
As soon as Mom was in her room, I slipped into the bathroom and closed the door. I took my time organising everything, needing it to be just right. Maybe delaying a little too. I couldn’t decide what kind of blade to use, so I grabbed a pair of scissors and a shaver and wrapped them up in a towel along with everything else. It took a few trips, but when I was finally back in my room I wedged a textbook under the door. The last thing I needed was for Maddie to barge in on me.
I placed most of the items on my bed, then took the roll of toilet paper and put it, along with a bowl of warm water, on my bedside table. I paused a number of times to remind myself to breathe, but once I had everything arranged and was sitting on the towel there was no reason left to delay.
First thing – I ran a lighter flame over the blades.
It was slow going to start. Scissors weren’t a good idea. I’d misjudged just how hard it would be. Forcing myself to make the cut was bad enough – using almost-blunt scissors was impossible. By the time I’d hacked away at my thigh for a while, sucking in sharp breaths each time I tried to make a quick cut, I had to accept the scissors weren’t creating enough impact.
But I couldn’t give up. I needed to be sure.
The rules had changed. At least, that’s what I was starting to believe. Ever since I’d woken up in Wellesley minus one broken arm, I’d been thinking. Reminiscing over all the times I’d imagined what it would be like if the physical didn’t cross over. I remembered how Casey Tulin slit her wrists in Junior Year, and while everyone else was mourning I was daydreaming. If the physical didn’t cross over … maybe I could …
I didn’t agree with Casey’s decision, but my situation was entirely different. I’ve always felt deep down that by having two lives they somehow cancelled each other out. That maybe the end of one life could mean the start of my first real one.
That’s all I’d ever dreamed of.
I’d cried myself to sleep for so many years. Confused, distraught, not knowing why I was different from everyone else. Not knowing why I wasn’t enough in either one of my worlds. Not knowing who I am …
If there was a chance … If I could make it so there was only one of me …
I growled in frustration and dropped the scissors. They weren’t doing anything substantial.
I moved on to the razor blade, warm tears slipping down my cheeks. I started with my right thigh again, selecting the same area. My hands trembled, but I managed to get a few clean swipes of the blade across my skin. The result wasn’t exactly what I’d planned. Using a disposable razor only allowed for a surface cut: three in my case – triple blade. What it did do was cause a lot of blood. It seemed like as soon as I wadded the toilet paper and covered the cut, it was already drenched.
More tears flowed. I wanted to stop, to figure out another way. But I knew there wasn’t one. I needed to know if the blood theory worked; if what happened to my body in this world was only going to affect this body and not my other. Knowing this might be the key to a future I actually wanted.
I took a few deep breaths and waited for the bleeding on my leg to slow. Then I covered the cuts with plasters and slipped into a pair of sweat pants.
I opened my bedroom door a crack. No light. The house was silent. I let the door swing just wide enough for me to slip out without it creaking. My heart thumped in my chest as I made my way downstairs. I felt like every step, every breath, was so loud that at any second Mom or Dad would come rushing out of their room and catch me in the act.
In the end, it took a while to find what I was looking for. Someone had put it away in the wrong drawer. By the time I’d placed it carefully under the side elastic of my underwear and shuffled back to my room, I’d built up