The tears don't come anymore. You know they don't help anything. You walk ever so casually to the girl's locker room and grab your backpack, front pocket, that little blue bag. You stole the exacto knife from the science lab and it is by far the best tool for this job, you never leave home without it. You hear voices so you walk into a stall and wait it out.
"What was coach yelling at Brittany about?" You hear Santana ask. She sounds really worried for you.
"I think it was her grades." Quinn answers. "I don't think she's going to be able to stay on the squad."
"Shit I have to find her."
"Don't you think you should give her some space? She might be embarrassed."
"Space is the last thing she needs." You put your feet up so she won't be able to see you in the stall, and your friends leave the room.
Finally you are able to unwind from that horrible talk with Coach Sylvester.
"64." You whisper to yourself as you make the cut right below the hairband on your wrist. It makes you feel better to count. There are three still healing underneath it and you give them a blank stare as blood starts to slowly trickle out of the fresh wound.
"Stupid." You utter before grabbing your sweatshirt from your bag and returning the knife to the blue bag in the front pocket.
"Brittany!" Santana sounds frantic in her search for you.
You walk out of the stall because you hate to hear her so upset. She knows what you've done. She doesn't yell this time like she sometimes does; she just runs to you and pulls you into a hug. You sigh because you know you've let her down. She kisses your forehead and snakes her arm around your waist as she leads you out of the locker room. You get in the passenger's seat and the two of you drive in silence to her house.
Her eyes are shimmering with withheld tears as she grabs her first aid kit and rubs Neosporin on your wrist. You both know its not necessary, but it makes her feel better. She sees the others and looks up at you. All you want to do is look away, and so you do. Her disappointment is too much for you to handle. You get a hello kitty bandaid that you know are only in her medicine cabinet for you. She is holding your wrist as she pulls you onto her bed. Her tiny body manages to hold yours as the big spoon while you lay there with her head nestled between your shoulder blades. You almost wish she would say something, but when she does, it makes you want to cry.
"I love you Brittany." She says it like she doesn't think you love her back. She says it like she's begging you to be okay. You turn around to face her.
"I love you so much." You are sincere but know she doesn't believe you, and why should she? She doesn't deserve someone so… so broken.
Mrs. Lopez calls for dinner and the two of you move from the bed for the first time in hours.
"Hi girls! How was everyone's day at school?" Santana smiled and said fine and you parrot her as you sat down.
"Brittany sweetheart it's springtime. She gestures to your sweatshirt and you tug on the sleeves out of nervous habit.
"I get cold really easily Mrs. L." You look down, knowing how ashamed Santana must be of you right now.
"I can turn down the air conditioning if it will make you more comfortable." She is the kindest woman.
"No no it's okay. I'm fine in my hoodie."
Santana doesn't say a word to you after dinner. You call your mom to tell her you are spending the night; both knowing you shouldn't be alone. You silently get ready for bed.
"I love you Brittany." She kisses you on top of your head as she leans over to turn out the light.
"I love you." She grabs you with force, like she's afraid you'll fade away. You don't blame her. "I'm sorry." You say quietly before you close your eyes.
