Call Me Crazy (23 page)

I see her watching me as I scan her room, her eyes are wide, and she tugs at her sleeves nervously.

“Nice room,” I tell her with a smile.

“It’s plain,” she says, sounding slightly embarrassed.

“I told you what I had on my walls and you were surprised,” I remind her.

She nods, “But you’re a guy, I figured you would have some chick pictures up.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Okay,” she says, with an exaggerated sigh, “we might as well stop stalling. Have a seat.” She motions to the desk chair. I pull it over closer to her bed where she climbs up and sits down cross legged. I stare at her and I know that it unsettles her, but I want to see her facial expressions. I guess I
actually did understand what she meant on the phone—sometimes body language and facial expressions say much more than words ever can.

She pulls both of her sleeves up quickly and lays her arms on her legs, out stretched as if she were going to give blood, and by the looks of the scars she had given blood ma
ny, many times. I feel my heartbeat move up into my throat and feel chills roll down my spine as I stare at her fair, delicate arms. Her arms have dozens of raised lines all over them, in no particular pattern. I look closer though and then I see it, the lines are definitely in a pattern, they are letters, which are in turn words. Tally had cut the words
damaged goods
on her arms. The word
damaged
is on her left arm and the word
goods
is on her right. Some of the cuts appear to have been deeper than others, but they were all precise. I look up at her face and as soon as our eyes meet, she turns away from me. I could see the shame wash over her as her shoulders slump and her breathing increases. I stand up and slowly walk towards her. She looks up briefly and her eyes widen, but she ducks her head. I kneel down in front of her and run my fingers over the scars. My insides tighten as if being wrung out by invisible hands and I try not to picture her cutting herself.

“Tell me,” I say as gently as I can, but my voice is low as I try to hide the pain I hold for her.

I hear her sniffle and reach up to tilt her chin so that I can look at her face. Silent tears stream down as she wages war with whatever it is that holds her hostage. I stand up, sit down next to her, and wrap an arm around her pulling her close and wait. I will wait for as long as she needs, I will hold her for as long as she needs, but I will not let her bear this alone.

Fifteen minutes pass and I feel her start to move. She wipes her eyes dry, and then starts to pull her sleeves down. I stop her, “Are you more comfortable with them down, or do you think it will make me more comfortable?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know really.”

“Leave them,” I tell her, as I run a finger over them. She looks up at me, and her mouth drops open.

“Aren’t you disgusted by them? They’re ugly, and their existence makes the words so true.”

“Nothing about you could ever disgust me, and you will never be damaged goods, not to me, not to anyone.” I tell her.

She leaves her sleeves up and settles her hands in her lap.

“I went into the hospital, because they found me in the school bathroom cutting myself. I had been depressed for months and it was getting worse. I didn’t want to tell anyone, because I didn’t want anything to be wrong with me, but I got to a point where hiding it wasn’t an option any more, not by choice, my body took the choice out of my hands. I don’t think I really wanted to die. I just wanted the pain to stop. The physical pain from the blade was a relief from the emotional pain that I didn’t understand,” she pauses and looks up at me. I try to keep my face blank. I don’t want her altering her story based on what she thinks she sees on my face. “I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I didn’t understand how they could diagnose me with that
. But then I went through several therapy sessions and long conversations with Dr. Stacey. She discovered, that I had actually been in what they call a hypomanic state before the depression began. That’s what was so frustrating. Before I began getting depressed, I was happy, even euphoric at times. I didn’t sleep much. I would stay up really late reading, playing games on my phone, and even working ahead in some of my classes, just because I felt like I could. I was a completely different person, a person I liked, and other people did too. A week before I, what Dr. Stacey calls
crashed
, I talked Natalie into going bungee jumping.”

My eyes widen slightly, but only for a second. I saw glimpses of the girl she is describing in the hospital, though not to that extreme.

“Dr. Stacey says that most people who suffer from bipolar disorder never seek help when they are manic and that’s why it can be difficult to diagnose. Natalie noticed the change pretty quickly but I just kept blowing her concern off, telling her I was just tired and not sleeping well. She didn’t catch on to the long sleeves until about two weeks before I was admitted. She was livid, scared, and threatened to tell my parents. I was hysterical and I begged her not to. I think she was scared because she had never seen me that way. I promised that I would stop and that I would talk to the school counselor, obviously I didn’t.” She’s quiet for a bit and I simply sit, holding her. I won’t say anything until I know she has finished and I’m giving myself time to formulate what I want to say.

“So that’s it, that’s why I was in Mercy, that’s why the people at school treat me like a freak.”

“You are not a freak,” I whisper close to her ear. I clear my throat and then pull back so that I can look at her. I can tell she thinks that I’m pulling away because of what she’s told me.

“Look at me Tally,” I wait. Her head tilts slowly until our eyes meet, “I only put this distance between us because I need to look at you, I need to know you are listening to me. Okay?”

She nods.

“I know that was hard for you to tell me, and I’m proud of you and respect you for talking about something that is so painful. I need you to hear me when I say to you that I see you, I see Tally. You are a beautiful young woman who has endured much, and although you will probably endure much more, you have been victorious in your battle. You are so courageous and I know you don’t see it, but it’s true.”

The tension in her lips and the wrinkling of her forehead tells me that she doesn’t agree with me.

“I can’t make you see yourself as I do. You will have to choose to let go of the shame and allow yourself some mercy. What I can do, listen to me Tally,” I say, more sternly than I intend. Her eyes widen but they meet mine and stay there, “What I can do is show you that you are precious. You have much in this life to give and you have a purpose, even if you do not know what it is just yet. I hate that you went through that darkness, but I am so very glad that I met you, and I think there is a reason we met under the circumstances that we did. I know it’s difficult to trust, I do, but I am asking you to let me prove to you that you can trust me.”

I stare at her, as I try to keep my breathing even. I want her to see that after everything she has shared with me, she is still the girl I bumped into at Mercy, she is still the girl that I fell head over heels for in a matter of days, before I’d ever even had the privilege of holding her. She reaches up tentatively and I try to hold my breath not wanting to scare her. She rarely initiates touch with anyone, and when she does, it is a gift. She gently brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. After my shower that night I hadn’t bothered to braid it so it hung loosely around me.
“I love your hair,” she whispers.

I chuckle, “Thank you.”

“I’m scared,” she admits, as she strokes the long strands of my dark hair. It’s difficult not to beg her to run both her hands through my hair.

“I know,” I say. “That’s okay, but don’t run, just don’t run
, not from me.”

She nods, and then lets her hand fall back to her lap. I glance at my watch and see that it’s been an hour, and although, her parents aren’t supposed to be back until after midnight, I don’t feel that it’s right for me to stay. But, I also hate to leave her in such a vulnerable state.

“What are you thinking?” She asks.

“You will laugh.”

“Try me,” she challenges, and I see some of her spark return.

“I’m trying to decide if I should be a gentleman and not stay here alone with you this late at night, or if I should stay, because I don’t want you to be alone after opening, still healing wounds.”

She makes an ‘ahh’ motion with her mouth and grins.

“You’re really thinking about being all chivalrous? Does it really bother you to be here alone with me?”

My eyes narrow slightly, and I reach up and run a finger slowly across her parted lips.

“You mistake my words, beautiful.
I didn’t say it bothers me to be alone with you. Having you all to myself is my preference. You will find that it is something I will have to control. What bothers me, is you ever thinking that I would attempt to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state, in obviously perfect circumstances.”

I feel her breath catch against my finger and watch as heat floods her cheeks. I want to kiss her again, but I’ve decided to wait until I’m sure it’s what she wants, the kiss in English had been like I was sealing the deal
and
it shocked her, which I love doing.

“Oh,” she finally says.

“Did I scare you?” I ask, and purposely lower my gaze to her lips.

She bites her bottom lip as I stare and shakes her head.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

She laughs and it’s a little breathless. “Yes well, you’re too sexy for your own good.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth her eyes jump up to
mine and her mouth falls open. A tiny screech comes out as she stares at me, “I, oh, I mean,” she groans, “I can’t believe I said that.”

I’m attempting to keep my laugh to a small chuckle, but the expression on her face doesn’t help me.

“Sexy huh?” I ask, as I rub my chin.

“Oh shut up, don’t even act like you don’t know you’re hot.” She snaps, her embarrassment now turning to annoyance.

I hold my hands up attempting to surrender, but the laughter just keeps coming. She glares at me, but I see the glint of humor and know she isn’t really mad. Embarrassed? Yes, but not mad.

I stand after finally composing myself and she half jumps as she tries to hurry and stand as well.

“You’re leaving?” She asks and her lips are tense.

I step closer to her and place both hands on either side of her face. She is so small, so fragile, and yet so very strong.

“I’m a phone call away, any time day or night, I will come to you.” I stare at her, waiting, giving her the chance to choose. She nods her head slightly as she licks her bottom lip slowly. I follow the trail of her tongue like a predator after its prey. I lean down slowly, giving her time to stop me if she wants, but her eyes close even before my lips touch hers. Her lips are soft and warm. She parts them slightly and I feel the heat of her breath slipping past my own. I step closer, drop one of my hands, and wrap my arm around her, pressing her against me. She is soft in all the places I am not. Her body molds itself to me, and I feel the kiss change, gentle and sweet becomes passionate and firm. She wraps her arms around my neck. I realize she is rising up on her toes, because I do not have to bend as far. I have thought of kissing her many times, but never did I imagine that it would feel like this. I can hear my blood rushing through my veins and my heart pounding in my chest. I wonder briefly if it’s pounding hard enough that she feels it. I feel her run her hands through my hair and I moan. Her tongue brushes against the roof of my mouth and I feel her shudder against me.

I force myself to pull back, but I don’t let her go. My thumb runs along her wet, glistening lips and she darts her tongue out, and licks it. I suck in air sharply through my teeth. She grins.

“Vixen,” I whisper.

Her face is flushed and warm, her breathing rapid and unsteady.

“I really need to go,” I tell her.

She nods, but doesn’t step away from me.

“I don’t like to be touched.” Her words surprise me and I nearly drop my arms, but she stops me. “No, don’t let go. I mean I usually don’t like to be touched, but with you, it’s different.”

I brush her hair back and smile as the pink strands glide through my fingers. Her skin is still flushed from our kiss, and I realize
that the level of my desire and need for her would probably scare the crap out of her if she knew.

“I really nee
d to go,” I say again.

“You said that,” she points out.

I smile, “I mean it this time.” I lean down, kiss her lips softly, and pull back before I can allow myself more. I release her hair and step back from her. She looks amazing, sultry and much too tempting for her own good.

“Thank you Tally, you are so very brave.”

She’s biting her bottom lip again and I growl in frustration.

“What?” She asks innocently, and I know it isn’t an act.

“You’re sexy as hell and I need to go.” I turn and head for her door. I hear her following behind me, but I don’t dare turn around, sometimes a guy just knows when it’s time to call a game, because of rain. As I’m pulling the front door open, I hear my name.