I'm delusional.
"Colty," Bridger bites angrily.
There's almost a sense of dread mixed with worry in his voice. I've never heard either from him before.
"Please, be okay."
It's as if he needs those words to make it a reality.
"Fuck, I'm such a head case." I slur.
I lift up, or, rather, he lifts me, and I try opening my eyes. They flutter, and he's still cursing, carrying me out of my bunker.
"Cass," I cry out, looking at a fuzzy visual of my brother. His eyes lock with mine, tears present in his hopeless gaze and the sobs come sooner. "I'm sorry," I whimper after him, losing sight of his muddled figure
"It's going to be okay, Colt. I've got you. I've got you," Bridger reassures.
But I don't stop sobbing. Yang is gone. Cass is gone. My hope, my happiness, and everything left in me that wants to survive is dwindling.
Everyone uses me.
And I let them.
Break me apart, and you'll find there's nothing left inside.
Bones of my corpse. Blood of my life. Skin of my lies.
Nothing is left.
Nothing but pain.
Nothing but trauma.
My vision blurs more as I try to open my eyes. It's darker now, desolate, empty like my burdensome heart. How much can one take? Is it measured in pain? The likelihood of wanting to survive?
Tell me, mind, am I worth living for?
Bridger carries me all the way to the cabin as my vision blurs in and out. My stomach feels queasy but overall, I feel numb.
"She sliced herself up." Bridger's muffled voice sends me skittering in my own skin. It's there again, the tone of care. "Most seem artificial, but I think the lack of sleep, Yang's death, and the emotional turmoil we all cause her is taking its toll."
"Why was no one watching her?" Ten hisses.
God, I've avoided him so much. How would Cass feel? Knowing both his closest friends are hurting because my heart decided to want them all?
"The twins were with her," Lux snaps.
"Look at how well that worked. Tongue-fucking him wasn't enough?" Jordan's brutal voice fills my ears.
Did he just insinuate that Lux kissed one of them?
My mind must be foggy. There's no fucking way Lennox DeLeon kissed another boy. No way. It takes every ounce of energy to keep myself from giggling.
Damn. Too much weed, purging, and energy drinks have all made me groggy as fuck.
"Is she going to be okay?" Ross asks, his troubled voice making me hurt for him. My sad boy. Bridger sets me down on a bed, or at least, it’s soft like one.
I don't hear the response to Ross, but I feel someone touching me what feels like moments later. Finally cracking my eyes open, I see Prudence. He's sad too. His eyes seem ghostly, like he feared the worst.
I don't want that.
For him.
Them.
Pain is a finicky bitch, always hitting when you're at your lowest, sweeping in to coerce you into giving in. It's why cutting has always been my outlet and not drugs. While weed is something I use often for my anxiety and depression, hardcore drugs have never appealed to me. People overdose too often, get bad batches, risk everything for a simple high.
Escapism through pain is my high, but to feel it, I need to be alive... sort of.
"Princess," Pru whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear. "Want to talk?"
I shake my head, or at least, I think I do.
He moves behind me, big spooning me. "You scared me so goddamn bad."
His words have me squeezing my eyes with a whimper. Dancing fingers trail up my upper arm, and I remember my cuts. Peering down at my own arm, I see the bandages. That's all that's left of the carnage I've derisively carved into myself. When did they bandage me? Shit, I must’ve really done a number on myself to be this foggy-brained.
Self-love—that's what commercials and musicians preach.
Self-hate—that's what reality offers, and it's a much crueler bitch.
"I'm sorry we let him touch you," he offers.
I want to shake my head. He acts as if that's the worst they've done, that their consciences are clear because they don't believe I know they're horrible beneath their pretty faces.
"Can I be alone?" I ask, my voice sounding half-drunk.
Warmth spreads through me as his kiss brushes the nape of my neck. The bed sinks and rises with the adjustment of him and the bereftness his weight has left.
"Don't hate me forever, princess. I can't imagine going home like this."
With his parting words, the tears come again, but also, so does a new body. It's