Ring … ring

I glanced over to the bedside table where my cell phone sat. I picked it up and checked the caller ID.

Svetlana

I smiled to myself, happy I was getting a call from the love of my life.

I flipped open the phone and brought it to my ear. "Hey babe,"

I heard her sigh on the other end of the line. "Hey, Yuls,"

"Are we still on for our movie tonight?" I asked her, "I was thinking we could go downtown and see that new horror film what's it called, uh..." I struggled to think of the name.

"You mean 'One Missed Call'?"

I smiled again, recognizing the name. "Yeah, that one. How about I come get you at 7? We could go grab a bite to eat, and then we'll be able to make it in time for the 8:30 sh-"

"Yul," She cut me off, and I heard her sigh on the other end of the line, "We aren't going to see that movie tonight. We need to talk."

My smile quickly faded. 'We need to talk' Whenever I heard that sentence escape from her mouth I got depressed. Good news never followed those four words.

I chose to ignore the last sentence and just continued our conversation where we left off at, "If you don't want to see that movie we can go see something else. I mean-"

"Yul," She cut me off again, "Stop avoiding the conversation. We need to talk."

I exhaled, defeated. "Okay... What's up?"

"Yul," another sigh. Her sighing so much wasn't a good sign either. "I'm sorry but, I don't think that this is working out very well. Us. Face it, it's just not meant to be."

You didn't hear her right, I convinced myself, you didn't hear her right. "What?"

"Yulia, it's over."

I panicked. "No it can't be. I love you Svet, more than anything. It can't be over."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" I sobbed

"There's someone else."

"But I love you," I pleaded, "Please, don't end it."

"I'm sorry. I love her."

I heard the click and the beeping soon followed. She had hung up on me. The person I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with. The woman I had planned to grown old with, have kids with, die with. Someone I had planned my entire future around. She had hung up on me and I'd probably never hear from her again.

I dropped the phone and collapsed onto my bed, the tears rolling down my face. I held my face in my hands and sobbed for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes.

I wiped my hands on my jeans and wiped the tears off my face with my sleeve while still silently sobbing.

I sat there not knowing what to do next and replaying our conversation in my mind over and over again. I immediately broke out in tears again. I thought of my therapist's advice on what to do in situations like this when I get upset.

Just cry it out and go talk to someone about it. You'll feel much better afterwards.

I did cry it out, but the only person I could talk to was Svetlana and this time she was the problem. There wasn't anyone I could turn to. I hated my parents, I didn't have any siblings, and I had no friends.

Trust me you'll feel much better after talking about it then you will if you continue cutting yourself to solve the problem.

That's what I used to do; cut myself. That was until I had met Svetlana and started seeing Dr. Morty. They had helped me break the habit. Dr Moty had shown me other ways to 'express myself' as he called it, and Svetlana had made me so happy that I had no reason to be depressed. But the temptation to go back to cutting was strong once again.

"It always helped before; it'll help now." I told myself in my head.

I resisted at first but the impulse was too strong. I reached into my bedside drawer where I kept my Swiss Army Knife my dad had given me incase of an emergency. I pulled it out and shut the drawer. I examined it for a moment trying one last time to control myself.

I failed.

I pulled out the knife and gently set it against my wrist. I pushed down slightly, wincing at the pain, then pushed the knife in further, watching it sink in. This time I felt the adrenaline rush. A slight moan escaped my lips. Partly from the pain; partly from the pleasure. It had been so long since I cut myself that I had forgotten how wonderful it made me feel. I soon added a second and third line of blood on my wrist.

The familiar taste of blood rushed across my tongue as I brought my wrist to my mouth. I sucked on my wounds for a moment before changing my position to get more comfortable. I turned sideways so my back was no longer resting against the hard headboard of my bed, but was facing my bedside table. I put my wrist back in its previous position resting against my leg. I started cutting again, pressing harder each time. I stopped keeping track of how many cuts I was making and just let my brain relax and let my right hand continue its motions…