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According to Me
“Nobody cares,” I murmured to myself. I swiped the brush over my nails very carefully, hoping not to get it everywhere. The black polish shined in the fluorescent lights overhead. I let out a breath and twisted the cap back on the bottle. I blew on my nails, waiting for them to dry so I could be on my way.
I tried to not look at the lines criss-crossing up and down my arms. Bright flashes of red and crying came to my mind. Shuddering, I recalled sliding the knife across my skin and watching as blood spilled into the sink.
A light ringing sound brought me out of my daydream; I looked at my computer where a little blue box blinked excitedly.
I bit my lip, wondering if I should answer. I knew it was him again. He’s been instant messaging me for a few days now; did I mention it was nonstop? Sometimes we talked all night and into the early morning. He made it seem as if I actually mattered. Sighing I clicked on the box and waited until his message appeared.
Hey. How are you?
Fine….no wait; skip that. I’m wallowing in self pity. I answered back. My newly painted fingers were poised over the keys waiting for his response.
Why? Such a simple word; yet I couldn’t answer it. Many responses flitted through my head and finally deciding on one, I typed it in:
Cuz according to him, I’m stupid, I’m useless, I can’t do anything right. I’m the girl with the worst attention span.
He’s stupid. No you’re not…. He paused and I sat silently waiting for him to continue. I’ll be back.
“What the…?” I whispered aloud. He has never left me in the middle of a conversation like that. I leaned back in my chair wondering why he left when a heard a yell outside. I eased up to the window, threw it open and peered into the night.
“Let me up,” the voice yelped again. I looked down to see a figure scaling the wall.
“I have a bat,” I lied hoping to scare him away.
“Dang it Slim, help me up,” the figure growled. I swallowed the laughter wanting to burst out of my lips and smiled down at the boy glaring at me. Holding out a hand I heaved him up until he landed in a heap at my feet.
“What are you doing here?” I giggled, unable to control my laughter. After he pushed himself up and sat on my bed, he glared at me once again.
“I had to tell you something,” he panted. I sat down beside him and placed my arm around his shoulders in a comforting way.
“What do you want to tell me?” I asked. He smiled at me; it was a sad, wistful smile; unusual for his arrogant personality.
He took my hand from around his shoulders and placed it in his lap. Slowly, he traced the scars lining my wrist. I could still hear his ragged breath as I closed my eyes. I, myself, drew in a ragged breath hoping to freeze this moment in time. His fingers, soft as satin, grazed against my arm, drawing an imaginary story telling of my past.
“So, what did you want to tell me?” I repeated abruptly tearing my arm away from him. I dragged my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I refused to look at him, at his curious eyes, his heart-breaker’s smile.
“Hey, look at me.” His voice was soft and gentle. Using his hand he coaxed my head towards him and forced me to stare into his eyes-the eyes of Dorian gray.
“According to me,” he smiled, “you’re beautiful, incredible, and I can’t get you out of my head. According to me you’re funny, irresistible, everything I ever wanted.”
My dark eyes swept over the long brown mop of hair darkening his eyes, the curve of his mouth, the slight crook of his nose, and the hint of stubble shadowing his cheek. I shook my head unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth.
He leaned in slowly as if never wanting to forget this moment. Still smiling, he pressed his lips to mine in a heart-stopping kiss before moving his lips to my ear.
“According to me,” he murmured.
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