"Bella, why do you do this to me? I can't let you do this to yourself anymore?"
"Jake, you think I do this because I want to hurt you! I honestly don't know why I cut myself. Its an addiction worse that nicotine and caffeine. I don't remember why I started." I don't know why I lied to my best friend. My only friend. We were sitting in the movie theater, when I noticed he was staring at my arm. I realized that my long navy sleeve had ridden up over the scars. When he realized I knew he knew, he got up and left the theater. I, of course, followed, like a diligent friend, to see if he was okay. I just wasn't expecting an intervention.
"Bells," he whispered hesitantly.
"Jake. I thought you would understand. I thought you would care." Now I was trying to hurt him.
"Bella, I have to tell somebody. You can't keep cutting yourself. It isn't healthy or safe. Please, please tell me why. I can tell that you remember."
"I can't tell you why because if I told you why, I would be able to feel it again. I have pushed it down as far away from the surface of my memory as possible. I do not want it to rise again." I got into the passenger seat of the car, and said, albeit at little bit too loudly, "Take me home."
He didn't say another word for the entire hour long drive home from Port Angeles to Forks, the small town where I live with my father, the police chief. As soon as I got out, he sped off to the reservation. I walked inside our small, dark house, and was welcomed by the stench of beer and the sound of a baseball game. Charlie was home. "Bells, is that you?" Speak of the devil.
"Yeah Dad, I'm back."
"Come say hi to Billy, where's Jake?"
"Jake went home," I said as I walked into the living room. "Hi Billy. I'm going to go do homework, so if anybody needs me, I will be in my room."
"Okay." As if they care, as if anybody except for Jake. Does Jake even care anymore? I feel bad for what I said to him, really I do. I just… I just don't want to relive that experience; the pain was unimaginable. He should understand; I'm not doing anything to hurt him. I am offended that he even thinks I would. I love him. Well, don't get confused. I love him as a brother, not in the touchy feely way that Jessica loves Mike or the dorky but cute way that Angela likes Mike. I love him in the way that a sister loves a brother.
He does act like my big brother too. I remember this time when Tyler took me on a date, and halfway through the movie we went outside so we could "talk" and he tried to get in my pants. I told him that he needed to stop because he was a dick-head and I didn't like him and that the only reason I went out with him was a pity date. He slapped me in the face and then drove home. I felt so stupid for going out with the school player and for going all the way to Seattle. I was stuck hours away from home.
So, I called Jacob. It was 12:30, at least an hour past my curfew, and I'm sure at least 2 hours after the local curfew on the reservation. But I needed help, so he drove two hours in Billy's old truck (the truck that they gave to me on my 17th birthday) to come get me. When he asked what happened, and I told him, he was mad. Let's just say that when I saw Tyler at school the next day his face was slightly purpler that it should have been. By that, I mean that Jake beat him up.
I guess the point of this story is that Jake is like an older brother to me, except for that he is never mean and he is more over protective. And if I tried to date one of his friends he would probably kill them. I don't know why I am telling you this. It's not like you care about me. Why should you? I'm just some emo 17 year-old girl who is lost in translation. That's what Renee says when she calls, anyway.