A/N: I've been thinking I may need to change the rating of this fanfic. It's been getting more on the graphic side of life. Any thoughts?
Chapter Twenty-Three: Never Say Goodbye
Someone was shaking Manny. She groaned in her sleep. The person wouldn't stop. She swiped at them, but they moved back in time.
"Manuela, what have you done?" she heard, her mother's voice shrill.
Manny slowly opened her eyes, wondering what her mother was talking about. Then she remembered: her hair.
It was lying on her bed with her, strewn about carelessly, and so obviously not attached. There was some in the bathroom sink as well. A trail of hair had led from the bathroom to her bedroom. Some of it she tore, some she cut.
Her hair was a choppy mess. She had cut most of it unevenly to her ears. Some chunks were still as long as ever, some to eye level, some patches completely missing. Not enough that she couldn't hide it, if need be. Her eyes were circled in black, smudges careening down her face. She had a small slice on her cheek where the scissors missed her hair. She looked and felt like hell.
Looking into her mother's horrified eyes, Manny knew her mother thought she was sick, really sick. She saw the realization in Amada's eyes that maybe, just maybe, she had driven her daughter insane.
"Mommy," Manny whispered.
Her mother swept the longer hairs off of Manny's neck, and Manny knew she saw what she hoped no one ever would.
Manny had tried to hang herself.
Her mother's face became frozen in fear, and she was backing away. She whispered in Spanish. Her baby, her poor baby, had gone mad.
Manny coughed, her throat burning. She didn't know how to make a noose, and she really didn't know what she was doing when it happened. She tied a knot around her neck with the rope of her mother's bathrobe, but it came undone.
Her head was throbbing from where she impacted with the counter.
Amada's eyes reluctantly looked down, down at Manny's uncovered arm. Scars riddled it, hideous twists of skin. Some fresh, some old, some still seeping blood.
Mrs. Santos ran from her daughter's bedroom.
Her mother had not been back to visit her. She heard screaming from downstairs, her mother on the telephone. She couldn't understand the words; it was as if she had forgotten English. Sometimes her mother lapsed into Spanish, but Manny couldn't tell the difference at this point.
Hours passed, and Manny made a decision. She had to win Theresa back; she had to prove her love.
She looked for her scissors. They were gone; her mother must have snatched them up. Manny looked around, wild desperation controlling her thoughts.
She looked at the broken mirror, several shards still clinging to the frame.
Manny smiled.
She looked at her bloody arm, and thought no. Not there. Too messy, it needed to be perfect.
A thought struck her, and Manny pried one of the shards of mirror from the frame.
She locked her door and sat on her bed. Manny lifted up her shirt, her untouched stomach bare to the world.
Manny started to carve.
She wore a black turtleneck and regular jeans. Her stomach burned in pain, but she didn't mind. Pain was good.
Manny looked around Degrassi Community School for her love, her one and only.
Her heart was pounding. People had been trying to talk to her since she arrived. It could have been the hair, the clothes, whatever. Nothing was more important than finding Theresa.
She spied on Janelle's locker, on Scott's, everywhere. She had seen Theresa's car in the parking lot, so she knew she was there somewhere.
Finally, after what seemed a lifetime, Manny found Theresa. Theresa was looking inside her locker for something, obviously tired. She had been looking for Manny all night.
See, she does love me, Manny told herself triumphantly. Theresa would see her declaration, and she could finally admit their love was real.
"Sweetie!" Manny called out.
Theresa looked over, surprised. "Manny! Manny you're alive! What…what happened to your—"
"Sweetie, it's okay! I know you're afraid, but look! Look, I do love you!" Manny cried, raising her shirt only to reveal, to Theresa's horror, what she had spent all of yesterday creating, perfecting, in loving detail.
On the left side of her stomach, it read "Theresa Elizabeth Scannel Forever" surrounded with hearts, stars, flowers…the lettering and the drawings were shaky and uneven. Manny's perfect declaration of love. The pseudo-love of a mind well and truly gone. There were no words Theresa could muster, and so she just stared in horror.
"You don't like it?" Manny ranted. "You don't like it? Can't you see I love you? Can't you? You can't leave me, Theresa! You can never leave me!"
"Manny, I—"
"Ms. Santos? What are you—oh, my god," Mr. Raditch was stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Manny. She began shifting with discomfort. "You…you need to come with me," he whispered, obviously shaken.
"No!" Manny screamed. "No!"
She ran.