Chasing Rainbows (13 page)

Tears seeped from the corners of my eyes, running into my hair as I lay gazing up at the circular patterns in the plaster above while my feelings were spiraling out of control just like the random swirls overhead merging into one huge circular mass of chaos.

Chance had told me to figure it out, but I didn't have a clue as to what he meant. Surely, he couldn't think that I would sleep with his brother. That was what hurt me the most; the thought that he could think so little of me after the time we'd spent together. I didn't play those kinds of sick games even if all of Crawley County High was convinced differently. The sad but funny thing about it all, I was still a virgin.

Every muscle and bone in my body ached, as I lay watching the light shining in through the sheer bedroom curtains grow dimmer. The room grew darker, and my thoughts turned as dark as the night approaching outside my window. There was no controlling my rollercoaster of emotions.

The clock on my nightstand read 7:27, and I rolled over and crawled across the floor toward my nightstand intending to turn on the lamp. My throat was dry; my eyes puffy and swollen. I could only imagine how bad I actually looked; probably as bad as I felt. I stood on my knees and slid my hand along the ceramic lamp searching for the switch to turn it on. The light hurt my eyes, and immediately I blinked, trying to focus.

The drawer on my nightstand stood ajar, and I pulled it open looking into the many faces of Natalie which were smiling up at me from within. Through bleary eyes, I reached for the dresser drawer pulling it the rest of the way out and sat down on the floor with the drawer in my lap. My hands trembled. I was pitifully pathetic. If I were Chance, I wouldn't want me either.

I was broken. The evidence of just how broken I truly was lay hidden beneath Natalie's pictures in the bottom of the drawer. One photo captured my attention. It was of me, Natalie and Mom. We were all three smiling. There wasn't a single memory that I could recall of my mom ever being that happy or looking at me the way she had looked at Natalie. Oblivious, I had stood beside Natalie wearing a smile while Mom and Natalie smiled at one another as if they shared some special secret, one that didn't include me.

It seemed as if I had always been just a bystander, caught up in a moment that I really had no business being captured in. I was blindly stupid, especially when it came to Natalie. Instantly, the guilt settled in. I shouldn't think such awful thoughts about my dead sister.

I turned the drawer upside down, scattering the contents across the floor of my room. As anger took hold, I flung the wooden drawer, filled with a sense of satisfaction when it crashed in to the wall and fell to the floor with a thud. A chunk of plaster had fallen from the wall and was now lying on the floor among the hundreds of photos scattered across my bedroom floor.

Even in the dim glow of my lamp, the silver glint of the razor blades lying nearby beckoned. I hurt, and even though the blade's sharp bite would be painful, there would be a blissful relief to follow. That stinging sweet pain would temporarily set me free. At least until I began to think and feel again.

I crawled across the floor, picking up the first razor blade that I came to and ignored the crumpled pictures carelessly crushed beneath my knees. The house was silent, only the harsh panting of my breaths filled the room. Feeling dizzy, I staggered, fell back and landed on my butt. I scooted across the floor until my back hit the edge of the bed frame. The dim light fell on the shiny blade now held tightly gripped between my fingertips. I sat there blessedly numb looking down at it as I flicked the edge against each one of my fingernails flirting with the sharpness of the blade.

I thought about everything that had happened over the last few days. Even, the exercises I'd been taught in counseling couldn't help calm me. Nothing did. I ran the razor lightly down the inside of one of my thighs where my scars lay hidden beneath my jeans. The steel edge made tiny snags in the denim. I didn't even have to take them off. I could just press down and slice, cutting through fabric and flesh.

If I did this, the darkness locked away inside of me would win but I'd savor a moment of reprieve from all of the anguish I felt, and I needed that so badly. I wanted Chance. I wanted his smile, his green eyes laughing at me as he held my body against his. It was crazy. I'd only known him a few days, but I missed him. The thought of never speaking to him again was almost unbearable. I missed my sister. I missed my mom, and I missed my dad.

Downstairs, a door slammed. I must have forgotten to lock it. Razor blades and pictures laid scattered across the floor. In a panic, I frantically crawled toward them and tried to scoop up as many as I could before someone saw them. No one could know what I'd done and even if it were a deranged serial killer, the police couldn't find my body surrounded by Natalie's pictures or my dirty little secrets. All twenty of them glared accusingly back at me, mocking my haste.

My heart thudded like a drum beating in my ears. It was all I could hear. The need to hurry sent me scrambling across the floor as footsteps sounded at the top of the stairs and echoed down the hall. Tears seeped down my cheeks. It was useless. There wasn't enough time to hide them all.

There was a gasp, and I looked up to find that Kara and Brandon stood in the doorway. I could only imagine what they thought of me on my knees with my hair stuck to my blotchy wet face while the evidence of my spiraling destruction lay scattered all around me for them to see.

"What the hell, Addie?" Brandon exclaimed. He looked at me in disbelief.

"Aww, baby," Kara murmured sadly as she stared down at me. Then, her gaze darted around the room to the mess I'd made. I was good at making messes. At that pathetic thought, I began to cry even harder. The shame squeezed my chest tight and made it hard to breathe. This wasn't supposed to happen. Now, they both knew, and like everyone else they'd leave me too. The thought of losing my best friends was more than I could bear. They wouldn't want a freak for a friend. My mom and dad hadn't wanted one for a daughter either.

Brandon bent down and picked up the upended drawer. Carefully, he placed my pictures back inside along with the blades while Kara sank to her knees before me. She wrapped her arms tightly around me. "It's alright, Addie. It's alright," she murmured and I let her rock me back and forth as if I were a small child in need of comforting.

I hiccupped, drawing in a deep breath and only realized then that Brandon had finally cleared a path in the mess. He sat down in front of me and Kara. It hurt to look at him.

"Why didn't you talk to us?" he asked; his expression full of anguish. "I would have understood, Addie."

He had known what it was like to feel such rage and hopelessness. To be judged and labeled. He'd suffered our eighth grade year, but Kara and I had stood by his side always encouraging him even when his moods would sink so low that I'd been afraid at times he would drown in his own emotions.

"I don't know. It was easier not to say anything," I whispered, keeping my eyes downcast.

"What set it off?" Brandon asked gently.

How typical of him to know there was always a trigger; that monumental moment that might seem as if it were nothing significant to someone else, but it would be my undoing, and I'd unravel like a carefully placed stitch in a piece of fabric I'd forgotten to tie tightly.

Kara was stroking my hair, and all I could think was that someday, she would make a great mother. She always knew what to say and what to do. Brandon was still looking at me, his face full of hurt. I hated seeing that expression on his face. So, I reached out and grabbed ahold of his hand.

"School, maybe," I hedged, lying. He might believe me, but I could tell by the look in his intelligent baby blues he didn't buy my excuse. "Alright," I said on a sigh, "Chance doesn't want to talk to me anymore."

"That rat bastard," Kara muttered, in the same soft sing song voice she had whispered to me for the last ten minutes. Brandon scooted closer to us. He tugged the sleeve of his shirt down and used it to wipe the dampness from my cheeks.

Kara slid her arms from around me. She gripped my shoulders leaving me no choice but to look her in the eyes. She was nibbling on her lower lip; her eyes filled with concern. "Addie, promise me, you'll never cut yourself again."

"I was only thinking about it. I didn't do it," I protested, not liking the way she was regarding me.

"That's good," she finally replied, but the uncertainty in her voice made me question if she believed me. "It might not seem like it now, but you're beating that monster living inside of you. I know you didn't want us to find out, but I'm glad we did. This isn't uncommon, Addie. My cousin did the same thing when she was being bullied at school. I can't believe you didn't think you could come and talk to one of us. We're always here for you, Addie."

"Please, don't mention this to anyone," I whispered, filled with shame at what I'd almost done. I glanced from Kara to Brandon, imploring them to keep quiet. The thought of anyone knowing made me sick. They seemed hurt that I would even ask, but I needed the reassurance even though deep down I knew they wouldn't tell my secret.

"You know better, Addie," Brandon said, easing my fears with his words. He marked a cross over his heart, pledging his silence. "To the grave," he promised, offering a wavering smile. Then, his face grew serious, and I worried at what was to come. "Unless, I find out you're lying to me. I won't stand by and watch while you hurt yourself."

"We're just like Fight Club," Kara announced then giggled. The oddness of her reference struck me as funny. Brandon's face broke into a grin. Then, it hit me that despite the seriousness of the situation and the bazaar scene they'd both stumbled upon, Kara could actually make a movie reference to pertain to this mess. At the same time all three of us cried out," We don't talk about it!"

It was one of our favorite movies. We'd seen it at least twenty times and could almost quote every single line from beginning to end. I laughed and Brandon wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me against his chest. The scent of peppermint strong on his breath.

"You know the rules, Addie." he whispered in my ear.

"I do," I replied, not missing the underlying seriousness of his tone or the implied threat either.

These were my friends and they would stand by me no matter what, but they'd talk if either one of them suspected me of lying. I couldn't blame them. I would do the same if it was the other way around and one of them hid a destructive secret.

With Brandon still wrapped around me, Kara squealed and piled on top of the two of us, giggling. I loved them and for some strange reason… they loved me. We were a tangle of arms and legs, and then they both began to tickle me without mercy. All three of us fell back onto the floor laughing hysterically.

Chapter eleven

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON,
I
WAS STANDING
in the kitchen holding my keys when I heard Brandon's car pull in the driveway. He blew the horn and I hurried for the front door. He was alone. The plan was that Brandon and I were going to meet up with Kara and Devon later at the drive-in.

School had passed by somewhat smoothly with only some minor hiccups along the way named Miley, Mia, and Bryce, and the occasional rude comment. It hadn't been too awful, and I'd ignored them. No one else had said a word. That was the thing about high school, attention spans were pretty short, and the drama of one day was almost completely forgotten by the next.

I still hadn't heard from Chance. It was crazy, but I missed him. He'd shaken my defenses and had left me reeling, alone and confused. I still didn't understand exactly what was going on with him or the reason for his sudden coldness, but the instant attraction between us had been undeniable, and I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Even though it was a school night, we were going to watch the double feature. Two horror flicks filled with blood and gore, and best of all: no romance. It was strictly off limits. I couldn't wait until tonight since I was dying to see the main feature. It just might be the thing to take my mind off Chance; at least for a little while. Anything would have to beat sitting in this house with only Natalie's ghost and my depressing thoughts to keep me company.

From the doorway, I waved at Brandon then twisted the lock into place before pulling the door closed. From the porch, I could hear his speakers loudly blaring A-Ha's, "Take on Me." I was really beginning to hate that song. Suddenly remembering Kara's previous comment about it, I found myself smiling as I walked toward the car. I might just pull my hair out if he hit repeat.

When I opened the passenger side door, Brandon glanced up from his iPod and laid it back into the console between the two seats. "Well, well, look at you," he commented with a warm smile, and I twirled around in a dainty circle giving him the full effect of my outfit before climbing inside his Camry.

"You look beautiful," he said, eyeing my dress.

It was white, and hung loosely off my right shoulder revealing tanned skin. The material flowed but ended rather dramatically a couple of inches above my knees. I'd worn my cowboy boots, and twisted my thick chunk of wavy hair in a sparkly new clip. I reached up pushing a strand out of my eyes where I'd left some of it loose just around the sides. It was sloppy and I hoped, sexy.

I was more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl, but Brandon had promised me Mexican. He'd laughed when I'd wrinkled my nose, but he'd sworn on his life that it was somewhere fancier than our regular, Taco Bell.

I smiled back at him and self-consciously tugged down the hem of my dress as I slid into the leather seat. It was short, but there was no way anyone would be able to see my scars unless I showed them. "You don't look too bad yourself," I teased, eyeing him with approval.

The walnut brown leather vest that he wore along with a form fitting white tee drew attention to his bulging biceps and chest. A metallic cross hung on a thin leather chord snuggled in between his prominent pecs. I noticed the new faded jeans and the pair of cowboy boots he'd worn to school the day before. He looked like he stepped right off the cover of GQ. He was so fashionably handsome. "Not too much, is it?" he asked, seeming worried. "The vest might be overkill."