“Don’t you dare run away Spencer. Don’t you dare try and leave me,” Jaime’s previous words rung in my ears as I sat on a chair talking to detectives, the cool night air rushing by me, turning my already crisped hair into chaos. I couldn’t bring myself to run away from Jaime. The way he so desperately gripped me, telling me firmly not to leave him, persuaded me enough. Maybe not enough for forever, but enough for now. God, I was so selfish. After all of this, I still wanted to stay with Jaime.

But as I told the police officers my story—and by story, I mean every single detail—I felt as if a massive weight had been lift off of my shoulders, like the fire in my lungs was finally being put out. The detectives seemed to believe me, too. They listened to me intently, their eyes full of concern and passion. I was just a scared, tired, tortured little girl that they wanted to help.

“And do you know the name of the man who stalks you?” one detective asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

I nodded my head carefully. This was it. “Drew Sanders,” I said confidentially. I described him almost perfectly to the sketch artist—the way his lips naturally curled up over his teeth, his dark, beady eyes, his thin black hair, the tattoo of flames on his neck… thinking about his image made me want to be sick, and I could feel my chest begin to tighten in panic. Thinking about the tattoo of the fire on his neck sent me over the edge, the way the flames seemed as if they could continue to rise, so his face became engulfed in the flames, so he became the fire… the picture overwhelmed me. He was the fire, he was hell.

“Are you okay?” a detective asked, cautiously putting a hand on my shoulder. I nodded.

“This is just a lot,” I said quietly, amazed that I could form words.

The detective smiled sympathetically. “I understand why you had trouble coming forward about this. We will do the best we can, though,” he said, and, with that, he let me return to Jaime.

Before I could reach him, though, Tony, Mike, and Vic were pulling me into a group hug. “I’m so sorry, Spence,” Vic said. “You deserve to be happy,” Tony added. “I’m glad you are okay,” Mike mumbled. The past few weeks with Jaime had also been spent with Vic, Tony, and Mike, and, as a group, we became pretty close. I never thought that I would ever have so many people care about me at once.

“Come on, Spence, you and Jaime can stay at me and Mike’s place,” Vic said, swinging an arm over my shoulder.

“Oh, no, Vic! That’s not a good idea…” I said, cringing at the thought. There was no way that I would allow myself to mooch off of Vic and Mike, putting them in danger, too.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Spencer. Now that everyone knows what is going on, you will be safer, it’s okay,” Vic said stubbornly.

“I don’t know… I need to go apartment shopping,” I said.

“You can do that once Drew Sanders is in custody,” Mike said, putting an arm over my other shoulder.

“Guys, no,” I said, trying to shake them both off. “Why would you want me in your house? I don’t know if you have noticed, but the last to places I’ve stayed in are burnt to the ground,” I said gravely.

“You’re not the dangerous on, Spencer,” Vic noted. “Come on, we are kidnapping you,” he added with a sly smile. Before I had time to react, someone came up behind me and swung me over his shoulder.

“Jaime!” I yelped.

“Nope, you’re coming with us, missy,” he said, walking with me on his right shoulder fire-fighter-style.

“Hey! I feel left out!” Tony jogged over to us, pouting.

“Okay, Tone, you can sleep over, too,” Mike chuckled.

I laughed, sort of excited to hang out with all of them.

But then a thought occurred to me: All of my favorite people will be at the same place as me. All of my favorite people will now be directly targeted by Drew Sanders.


This couldn’t end well.


~~



I excused myself from the guys to go the guest room bathroom; we had been playing Mario cart on the Wii. It was a lot of fun, and it was intended to be distracting, but I had more pressing matters on my mind.

I sat on the edge of the tub, lifting up my gym shorts and lightly grazing the healed slashes on my skin. Etched into my thigh roughly was the word burn. It was an old self-inflicted wound, but the feelings I felt when I did it at first were rising like heat within me again.

I had found a manual pencil sharpener in one of Vic’s drawers, and I unscrewed the blade from it. I felt bad steeling from them, I really did, but I needed this. They would never notice, anyway.

Without another thought, I drug the blade across the old cuts. I didn’t like the way it felt, but I enjoyed watching the way the word ‘burn’ smeared with blood. It almost looked like a fire itself. I sliced at the word multiple times, the pain and discomfort slowly fading away, right along with my feelings. I didn’t want to feel anything, I didn’t want to consciously be putting my... my friends in danger. They had no idea how manipulative and sneaky Drew Sanders really was. They also had no idea that all I wanted to be was ash. Nothing but ash, a tiny speck in the murky air, not a nuisance to any more innocent people…

“Spencer? Are you alright?” Shit. Jaime’s voice called me from outside of the door. Only a few inches of wood were separating us. I didn’t realize how long I had been in here…

I looked down on my leg. It was a bloody mess, and I felt faint. I sighed, sliding down so I could rest the back of my head on the edge of the tub. The blade still in my right hand, I heard Jaime knock.

“Spencer, what are you doing?” he asked again. I was sure that Jaime wasn’t new to things like this. I knew he knew people who self-harmed, but it did break my heart a little knowing that this was probably going to hurt him.

I was going to hurt him. My mere presence, my existence, would ultimately hurt him in the end. I swung my right arm across my body, slashing at my left arm with the blade. The blood spilled quietly and flowed like a river. There was no turning back now.

My eyes were beginning to feel heavy, and I was practically sitting in a pool of my own blood. I could feel myself slipping, but then a shock of realization hit me. Fuck, maybe I don’t want to die. The guys were right. Drew Sanders identity was in the open, they knew who he was, they could help me, we could help each other… This was bad. This would hurt Jaime too much. Shit, shit, shit.

“I made a mistake, Jaime,” I moaned, hopefully loud enough for him to hear.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m coming in,” he said. His voice was composed, but I could sense the panic. He knew what I was talking about.

“It's locked,” I moaned quietly again. Why did I have to lock the damn door? I didn’t have any energy to get up and open it, though. I just wanted to sleep indefinitely…

The door suddenly busted open. Jaime appeared, gauze bandages already in hand. Bless him.

He rushed over to me, his face full of concern. “It’s okay,” he repeated. I remained slumped, feeling numb and worthless, as he pressed the bandages to my skin. I closed my eyes for a minute as cleaning my wounds and making sure the bleeding subsided distracted him.

“I don’t think you need stitches or anything; you just need rest,” he looked up, when he apparently finished cleaning my arm and leg. “Hey, open your eyes, Spence, please,” he soothed, noticing that I had closed my eyes. I obeyed. Everything was foggy, but I did enjoy looking at Jaime’s pretty face...

Jaime had blood on his hands. I laughed at the irony of it. He was the most innocent person I’ve ever met; yet he had blood on his hands. I must have had a crazed expression masked on my face, because he stood up and washed his hands before continuing to care for me.

“Come here,” he said softly, leaning over to me to pick me up. His arms gently swept over to me, and he lifted me bridal-style to the opposite side of the bathroom. I carefully watched him clean up the bloody mess on the floor, and then I looked down on myself, realizing my clothes were soaked.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, carefully resting a hand on the side of my face before leaving. I closed my eyes again, listening.

“Jaime, what the hell—”

“Holy, shit, dude, what—”

“Oh, God, Jaime, here, do you—” I heard a slur of phrases from the other guys when Jaime entered the room they were in. He must have waved them off, because I didn’t hear his voice, nor did the other guys finish their thought.

“Spencer, are you awake?” Jaime must have been making sure I kept consciousness given the amount of blood that I had lost… when I opened my eyes I noticed he had a clean t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Here,” he said, kneeling by me gently. My arm throbbed—I had made the single slash to my left arm jagged, deep, and painful. I looked down hopelessly on myself, and then looked up at Jaime, apology everywhere in my eyes.

“It’s okay, babe, let me help you stand up,” he said quietly. He helped me up, and, holding the sink with my stronger right up, I supported myself.

He knelt down and gently pulled down my gym shorts, careful to avoid touching the bandage. I would have blushed, probably, if I had enough blood in my system. He opened the sweatpants, and I carefully put in one leg at a time, slowly but surely. He cautiously pulled them back up, making sure not to hurt my leg. The waistband of the sweatpants—which belonged to either Vic or Mike—snapped gently on my hips, and Jaime kept his hands lightly on my hips for a moment.

He leaned in, putting his ear to my stomach. “I like to hear that heartbeat,” he whispered, and, although I knew he wasn’t intending to make me feel bad, guilt overwhelmed me. I carefully ran my fingers through his spiky, brown, and soft hair with my bad arm, before he stood up to help me with my shirt. The way his fingers brushed against my skin as he slowly lifted my shirt up sent involuntary shivers down my spine. He carefully maneuvered the shirt around my arm, and then put on the clean shirt.

“There,” he said. “All clean,” he kissed my nose. He gently picked me up and laid me down on the bed, and I curled up on my right side, so my left leg wasn’t touching the bed. I suddenly felt self-conscious about the cut pattern on my thigh. Did he notice that I had etched a word into my skin? A word that, no matter how hard I try to cover up, will always be there?

“I won’t let you destroy yourself, Spencer,” Jaime said, curling up on the bed next to me. He placed a hand on my exposed cheek, drawing circles with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice cracking.

“Don’t be sorry. Just, please, don’t do it again. You’re way too special to do that to yourself,” he said gently.

“I don’t do it to myself,” I said, barely audible. His face contorted in recognition, knowing what I meant. I didn’t do this to myself. Drew Sanders was the one who tortured me in not only real life, but also in my mind. He made me do this.

“Well, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you,” he said.

“I know,” I replied. “I know you won’t let me fall.”

Notes

bonjour

this is my last update for 2 WEEKS! I'm so sorry, it sucks to be away from all forms of communication for so long! But i thank you all for reading and commenting and such! :)

xoxoxoxo