I stood outside the door, afraid to knock. It was so quiet, like death had settled inside with Roger.
Suddenly, it snapped inside of my head. I dropped the sheet and threw myself at the door, trying to break it down somehow. I almost thought that I might push right through it, like a ghost.
The sound of Roger's crying fueled my fear somehow, and I managed to force the door open, falling onto my hands and knees. Later, I would be glad that our loft came equipped with such cheap locks.
He was bleeding everywhere, and I reached for his hands, holding them tightly in my own.
---
I stared at Mark, eyes wide, and honestly, I don't know who was more afraid at that moment. He was crying, and I was crying too. I felt like such a failure, such a fucking failure, but at the same time I hated him for having known.
"Let me go," I heard myself shouting, but he moved his hands to my wrists, protecting them.
"I can't.." Mark shook his head, and his eyes met mine. "I can't watch you go through with this, watch you leave me the way April left us. That's what she did, Roger, she left us. Not just you. You're not the only one who's hurting here.."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and I bit my lip, turning away.
"..but I know that you must be hurting a lot. I've given up everything to be here with you. I've had to hide my own grief, to help you deal with yours. And you know, Roger, I really didn't mind that I had to give things up for you. I did it because I care about you, because I love you. I love you."
---
The razor fell from Roger's hand, and I snatched it away from him. Carrying it with me, I opened the cupboard and reached for two towels, to wrap around his arms. Luckily, he hadn't gone too deep when he'd cut himself.
Roger turned his face to me as I cleaned him up, and he looked more shocked than frightened. I didn't blame him, though. I don't think he really wanted to die. Maybe he just wanted to bleed.
Lowering my gaze, I applied pressure.
Suddenly, it snapped inside of my head. I dropped the sheet and threw myself at the door, trying to break it down somehow. I almost thought that I might push right through it, like a ghost.
The sound of Roger's crying fueled my fear somehow, and I managed to force the door open, falling onto my hands and knees. Later, I would be glad that our loft came equipped with such cheap locks.
He was bleeding everywhere, and I reached for his hands, holding them tightly in my own.
---
I stared at Mark, eyes wide, and honestly, I don't know who was more afraid at that moment. He was crying, and I was crying too. I felt like such a failure, such a fucking failure, but at the same time I hated him for having known.
"Let me go," I heard myself shouting, but he moved his hands to my wrists, protecting them.
"I can't.." Mark shook his head, and his eyes met mine. "I can't watch you go through with this, watch you leave me the way April left us. That's what she did, Roger, she left us. Not just you. You're not the only one who's hurting here.."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and I bit my lip, turning away.
"..but I know that you must be hurting a lot. I've given up everything to be here with you. I've had to hide my own grief, to help you deal with yours. And you know, Roger, I really didn't mind that I had to give things up for you. I did it because I care about you, because I love you. I love you."
---
The razor fell from Roger's hand, and I snatched it away from him. Carrying it with me, I opened the cupboard and reached for two towels, to wrap around his arms. Luckily, he hadn't gone too deep when he'd cut himself.
Roger turned his face to me as I cleaned him up, and he looked more shocked than frightened. I didn't blame him, though. I don't think he really wanted to die. Maybe he just wanted to bleed.
Lowering my gaze, I applied pressure.
