Johnny, surprisingly not Jimmy, rolled off of the mattress and onto the floor. He groaned. At least his head wasn't throbbing. He rose and stretched, hearing the familiar voice of his lover. Johnny allowed himself a smile. She was home.
He found her leaning against the grimy countertop in the apartment's excuse for a kitchen; her back was to him as she spoke. "Yeah, that would be great. I'd love to," she twirled a strand of strawberry blond hair around a finger and rubbed one of her ankles with her other converse-clad foot. "No, I'm sure that he won't mind. I'm not sure he really cares for me anymore, so I'd be happy to crash there."
Johnny's blood ran ice cold.
"Hmmm, yeah... that sounds nice. Great, I'll see you there."
As she hung up, Johnny spoke, "who was that?"
His girlfriend jumped, nearly dropping the phone.
"Who was that?" Johnny repeated.
"A friend," Whatshername replied somewhat hesitantly.
"A friend, huh? What kind of friend? "
Whatshername winced. She could already hear the Saint in his voice. "A really nice friend who's offering me help."
"Help?" Johnny looked confused. "What help? What do you need help for?"
"You" was her answer.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Whatshername bucked up her courage. "I need help for you. You're not... you. You're that stupid 'Saint Jimmy' guy who never shuts up and always wastes every cent that we earn on pot and razor blades. So I'm helping you-"
"What do you mean, 'helping me?"
"I can't stand him. I'm sick of him. I'm leaving. Maybe some other slut will like Jimmy, but it sure as hell won't be me," she folded her arms across her chest and looked him right in the eye. "I don't see the point of sticking around someone I loathe. So unless you can ditch your alter ego in the next five minutes, I'm leaving with my new boyfriend."
"No. You can't-"
"Watch me," she brushed by him and headed for the "closet" in the bedroom, where she pulled out an old suitcase and began throwing her clothes in.
"Honey, sit down, we'll talk it out-"
"No! It won't be we; it'll be me and Jimmy. You're not a part of this relationship anymore; he is. And I'm damn tired of it," she folded a pair of jeans hastily and shoved them in her suitcase. "I can't take this place, I'm leaving it behind. I can't take this town; I'm leaving you tonight. And the best part is that no one, not even your pathetic 'saint' is going to stop me. And it definitely will not be you."
Johnny couldn't speak. His body seemed detached from his mind, like he couldn't tell it to step forward and console his girlfriend.
Whatshername clicked the clasps on her suitcase closed. "Last chance. Tell me that you're done and you're quitting everything cold turkey."
"How can I get rid of a part of myself?"
Whatshername picked up her case and promptly exited the room, "How can I break it to you that I've been seeing someone else?"
Johnny's feet were magically unglued from the floor; he couldn't catch her before she was out the front and slammed the door in his face. He whipped it open. "Come back!"
She was nowhere in sight. By the time he was standing outside on the pavement. She was gone. Swooped up by whoever she'd been cheating on Johnny with.
"Come back," Johnny shouted. "For fuck's sake, come back!"
His only response was the neighborhood dogs barking.
"You fucking whore, get your ass back here!" Johnny felt the rage consume him, and he was gone. Jimmy threw a nearby potted plant and screamed at the road for taking her.
By the end of the night, Jimmy had left hours too late, and Johnny was overcome with grief and remorse.
Johnny- he went by Jimmy now as a badge of shame- was huddled up on the mattress, holding the corner of a photograph to a lighter's flame. It ignited, and Jimmy watched the image blacken and curl.
He was hollow ever since he left and gave up the drugs. Saint Jimmy was gone; he'd killed him, but that's who Johnny had become, so that would be what he was to be called.
He was empty.
There was one of the Saint's habits that he hadn't ditched; Jimmy raised the sharp metal edge to his palm and brought it slashing down.
The blade clattered to the floor while Jimmy buried his face in his bloody hands. He was left alone. He was with no one. He was no one. Everyone had left him when she had.
Not even ten cups of coffee would supply him with the energy or motivation to get up.
He was going to be fired for sure this time. He hadn't even showed up at work all week.
The nineteen - year - old examined his cut and felt a seemingly ancient longing to be in an old familiar bathroom. The loneliness clawed at his heart. He was heartbroken and homesick.
Funny, what he'd called hell back then seemed promising now.
Jimmy sat up, head spinning. That was it; he'd go home and re-start his old life. Yeah, that was it! Forget about Whatshername -it hurt to say it.
He was coming home.
But a week later, he stood in front of his old lawn and saw that this wasn't his old home. It wasn't his family. It was the same house he'd grown up in and run from, but this was a different house.
It was a different family.
Everyone truly had deserted him.
With that thought, he sunk to his knees and with eyes flowing uncontrollably; he added another scar to his wrist.
