Eli's POV
Me and Clare had just left the Dot. We were driving around in Morty, looking for something to pass the time. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Clare had been cheerful all day, but she was going to make me talk soon. I didn't like talking to Clare about my feelings-at least when it came to this. Not only was it uncomfortable for me, but I knew Clare hated hearing how much pain I'm in. And not only that, but, sometimes, whenever I mentioned something me and Julia had done, her eyes would burn with jealousy. Not that I would ever tell her that I noticed.
"Eli? We…we should talk." Clare's angel voice murmured. I sighed. I hadn't been prepared for this. "Ask me whatever you want, blue eyes." She hesitated, not sure. I grinned at her; maybe she would drop the subject.
Raindrops started to fall, hitting against Morty's windshield. "When did you start hurting yourself?" Clare's voice was strained slightly. I sighed again. Of course she wouldn't drop it. "Right after Julia died." I remembered the pain, the endless ocean of grief. I remembered the first time I ever cut. Suddenly a mind reader, Clare asked "Was that the first time?" I nodded stiffly, keeping my eyes firmly on the road. Then, all of the secrets I'd been holding in slipped out of my mouth. "I was drunk, and I had taken some painkillers." I laughed without humor. As if any drug could take away my pain. "I was in the bathroom, drinking vodka, whenever I saw the razor blade. The next thing I really fully remember was having a blood-covered razor in my hand." The cuts on my wrists throbbed under my dark sleeves. I remembered the stinging from the cuts on my stomach, wrists and arms. I heard Clare try to swallow. Her head was turned to the window, and I couldn't see her face. "What else?" she asked, her voice breaking. I pulled over, and the rain fell harder. I might as well tell her. I took off my seat belt and put my hand on Clare's shoulder. She wouldn't look at me, but she moved closer to me. I took a deep breath and then I told her.
I told her about the endless nights of drinking and cutting. I told her about me smoking, and when cutting just wasn't enough anymore, how I pushed those cigarettes into my skin. When I finally finished, Clare turned to me. Her cheeks were soaked from her tears and I kissed her. "Baby, I'm not like that anymore." She kissed me back. I wiped her tears away, kissing her face. She sighed. "What about scars?" she murmured against my lips. "They're almost impossible to see, baby." I moved to brush her cinnamon curls out of her eyes and my hand accidentally brushed her shirt.
Clare shuddered. She leaned up and kissed me, with a new kind of heat. I moaned as she tried to pull my shirt off. I grabbed her hands and wrapped them around my neck, my shirt hitting the floor. A loud rapping noise came from the window, and me and Clare bolted upright. Clare gasped, and pulled away from me. I looked at the peering face in the window and groaned. Just perfect.