• I threw some clothes into a plastic HEB bag. I went over my checklist in my head, and once I realized that I had everything, I tied the bag closed. I said good-bye to my family and to my cat, hopped into my car, and drove the seven minute drive to my friend’s house. The path was familiar to me because I have been over to her house so many times that I have lost count, and it became my second home. Pulling up to the curb, I shut my engine off, and sat in my car. I looked down at my arm, and saw an angry scratch that I had inflicted on myself trying to heal. My fingers ghosted over the cut and the scars of previous self-mutilating scratches. They were not in a uniform line, but were randomly all over the place. I did a silent prayer that I would not slip up tonight before I grabbed my bag, walked up to the door, and rang the doorbell. I slipped on the carefully decorated mask that I wore around people before the door in front of me opened. Something human shaped was hurtled at me. Molly wrapped her arms tightly around me, and tried to squeeze my innards out like a tube of toothpaste.

    “Molly! For the love of God, let go of me now or I’ll smack you upside the face!” I yelled. It was my way of saying “hello” to her.

    “I would like to see you try,” she stated. “And if you did I would just hit you back.” It was her way of saying “I’ve missed you, and I’m happy that you came.” Molly pulled her arms away from me, and crossed them across her chest. Even though she was older than me, she stood at my height, and her hair was held up in a ponytail that never came down. I reached into my bag, and pulled out a small box.

    “Happy birthday,” I said, and she snatched the present from me. She led me into her home, and I was greeted by her parents. They asked me how was my brother and I, and I told them that we were doing fine. Stephanie, another friend, gave me a small wave with a smile on her face.

    “Hey, Tristan,” said Stephanie to me. “How are you?”

    “I’m good,” I unthinkingly responded with a lying smile. The answer was so ingrained to my system that it became automatic, and I say it without hesitation.

    Stephanie nodded at me and said, “That’s good.” Molly, Stephanie, and I went up the steep stairs to the second floor. I threw my belongings in her room and followed her to her brother’s. He was off at college, just like my brother was, so we used his room to have the party in. After two hours of playing video games, we were summoned down stairs for food and cake. After the usual birthday ritual of eating cake and opening presents, we retreated back up stairs into Molly’s room. There we talked, joked, and laughed. Not once did I slip up. I had them fooled, and gave myself a mental pat on the back. Who would have guessed that underneath my cheerful disposition hid a sad little girl that wanted to cry?

    “Hey, Tristan?” I heard from Molly.

    “Yeah?” I replied while I stared at the far wall. Stephanie was sitting on the floor, looking at a book as Molly and I were sitting on her bed.

    “How long has it been?” Molly said to me.

    “For what?”

    “Since we’ve known each other?”

    “Since middle school.” I started to count in my head, making meaningless hand gestures as I went. “Four to five years by my count.” I turned my head to her, but she was not looking at me. I shrugged my shoulders and readjusted the pillows on the bed.

    “It’s been that long hasn’t it?” she said solemnly. Her face remained somber as she went back through her memories. “What happened to your arm?” Her eyes darted down to my forearm. I immediately withdrew into myself and put up defenses in a pathetic attempt to protect myself from harm. I surrounded my mind with thick cold stone walls as I fell back onto my scapegoat.

    “My cat scratched me,” I stated without hesitation. “I was playing with him and he latched onto me.” This was technically true, but paranoia was getting the best of me. I could not let this happen. I tried to calm myself down, but that small ribbon of fear still slithered within me.

    She knew.

    The longer she held my gaze the more restless I became. The alarms and bells started to get louder, and they were screaming at me.

    Run away! they shrieked. Get out while you can! You need to protect yourself! I ignored them. I could not leave because that would be suspicious. The best I could do at the moment was to stay within myself where I was protected and safe.

    Molly sighed and shook her head. She stood and went to her dresser to retrieve something. She had it bundled up in her fist as she sat down in front of me.

    “I want to show y’all something.” Stephanie sat down next to me on the bed as Molly pointed at a faded scar on her arm. “I used to use this.” She opened her fist, and in it was a small metal spike, like a nail, with an equally small wooden handle. “I never once used a razor blade. I started after my friend’s funeral. She was like this too, but took it one step too far. She hung herself.” I did not see any emotion in the face of my friend. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I stopped myself. She was most likely sick and tired of people telling her that. I knew that they would not bring her dead friend back. They were hollow words after all.

    I soon heard mocking bitterness in her voice. “You know it’s funny. They think it’s the answer, and once they do it they hurt their loved ones more than they realize.” She laughed a joyless laugh. “They have no idea what it’s like on the other side. They don’t know what it’s like to be the one left behind.”

    The silence that followed was loud and annoying. Stephanie, who usually was bouncing off the walls and busy with drawing or reading, was now quiet and still. Her eyes stared down at the bedspread as one of her fingers twirled a lock of her brown hair. She already knew all of this, I could tell.

    “What made you stop?” I asked almost in a whisper.

    “My parents caught me,” she stated blandly putting the object back in the dresser. “That’s why I take all those pills. I’m going to get some ice cream.”

    “Ooh, I want some,” piped in Stephanie with a smile on her face as she bounced up and down on the bed.

    “Then come down and get your own. I’m not going to get it for you.” I followed suit. I drug myself downstairs with them to the kitchen. I thought about the friend that killed herself, and I found it extremely difficult to imagine what it was like for that poor girl’s parent’s to walk in on that horrific scene.

    The cogs of my imagination started to turn as I pictured what I would look like if I had hung myself. I could see it clearly now. My body limp, eyes rolled into the back of my head, and my lips stained with cyan. I saw my parents seeing me like that and crying. I could see my brother screaming at me calling me a damn idiot. I could see so many people sad and angry with me. It had hurt me when I thought of my family’s sadness. I did not want to do that to them.

    The rest of the night passed by in blur of fun. We all feel asleep where we sat in front of the television. The next day, I left, with donuts in my stomach, around one o’clock, and the sun casted its hot rays down on me during my short trip to my car. Molly tagged along while Stephanie was inside guarding her remaining ice cream.

    “See you later.” said Molly from her spot next to the mailbox that sat in front of her house.

    “See ya and thanks.” I said with a small smile. It was not much, but it was a start.

    “For what?” She said acting stupid, and rolled my eyes at her.

    “Never mind. Bye.” I closed my door, started up the engine, and went home.