"Please! Clare? Answer me!"
He was tired and depressed.
They got her to the hospital and immediately started surgery on her, patching up the cracks in her skull and clearing the blood off of her arms and legs. Legs.
The scars, they saw them. He nearly had a heart attack hearing that she was harming herself. They would ask her all the questions they needed after she woke up and was relaxed. He needed her to wake up. He needed her to be okay. He still cared for her, even though they went through so much.
He swore he saw her eyelids shutter. "Clare? Are you up? Please, tell me you're okay." She took in a deep breath. "Water." she croaked. He jumped out of his seat and gave her a cool glass of water that was next to the bed.
She lifted her head slowly, him helping her out by supporting her head with his arm. Her curly hair was scattered all around, face flush and her naturally pink lips cracked from lack of moisture. He gulped, knowing it wasn't such a good time to think about her lips on his, her small wet tongue dancing in his warm mouth.
His thoughts were thankfully broken, due to Clare Edwards clearing her
throat, trying to break the silence. So many questions ran through his mind to ask her, but he knew he should at least be thankful that she's still alive. He could bluntly ask her why she wanted to kill herself, why her thighs were scarred up, why she let herself go like that, but he knew to take it one step at a time.
"Why?"
Clare opened her clear blue orbs and looked up at him, avoiding his eyes that begged for an answer. Then she noticed how tired he really looked. There were dark bags under his eyes. His hair was sticking up in random tufts all around his head. His bangs were taken out of his eyes, showing a look of sadness and worry. "I-I can't believe you did that Clare. Why?" She was speechless. She swallowed, and began to speak. "No reason" " You're funny. Really funny. I saw you jump. I saw your body lay like a rag doll on the grass! If you had hit the concrete, you wouldn't be alive right now, do you not know that?" he asked, pacing around the room. "Oh I'm sorry Eli; I didn't think that would happen. It wasn't like I was trying to end my life. I was just trying to get a better view of the fucking park." she replied, angered. He noticed she cursed. God, has she changed.
The girl wouldn't dare to say the word hell, without feeling guilty towards her god and disgusted with herself. He noticed something else. He quickly grabbed her hand, looking at
her fingers. "Clare...where's your ring?" She quickly widened her eyes and pulled her hand away from his.
"Where is it?" he asked suspiciously. Clare blushed "I didn't need it anymore. I threw it away." Eli gulped, one last worrisome question in his head. "You didn't...you didn't give it up, right?" She avoided his eyes once again. Eli was confused, then afraid, and now angry. "That was your promise! You couldn't have just given up your vow, It mean a lot to you!"
Clare blushed again, and sighed. "I didn't."
"Then how...why isn't it on your finger then?" Eli was relieved, but wanted her to elaborate.
"I don't need it. I realized that when I have the one, we don't have to depend on our night of marriage. If we love each other and know that no matter what happens we won't leave each other, then we can do it when the time is right."
"Clare, are you sure about this?"
"Eli, why are you even here?" Clare said, changing the subject.
"I-I wanted to see if you were okay."
"Well, I am alive and okay, you can leave now"
"Wait, you know, just because we went through a lot doesn't mean I hate your guts. You didn't even tell me why you did this in the first place!"
"And you will never find out. Ask Adam if he can bring my school work here. I'm going to be here for a week or two."
He sighed "I can do it." Eli replied licking his dry lips. Clare looked up at him. "Oh, uh, okay. Oh, there are some things in my locker that I need so I can do the homework. My locker code is 24790
"Sure. Uh, alright. See you tomorrow Clare." He walked out quickly, worried and upset as to why she did this to herself. He's determined to get answers.
Eli drove back to school in his hearse, Morty. Avoiding security and teachers, he scrambled to get Clare's locker code in, slowly looking side to side if to see if any teachers were coming down the hallway. The locker clicked, a sign that it opened, and he picked up her History and English textbooks before something caught his eye.
Clare Edwards's diary. The key to all his questions, well, hopefully all of them.
The front was purple, filled with doodles of bands names, hearts, and quotes from her favorite authors.
He stuffed it in his backpack along with all of Clare's other much needed things. He shut the locker and sped back outside to his car.
Yes, you heard that correctly; he drives a hearse. It may have looked like death radiated off of it, but the inside didn't give off that vibe at all.
Posters filled the back of Morty, coating the death mobile's walls with glossy paper. There was a mini bed made on the floor, two
pillows and a large red blanket. Though it may have looked uncomfortable to sleep there, you never really know until you lay down yourself. The back of the hearse still had Clare's scent lingering on it. The blanket they used to lay on, talking for hours about which Chuck Palahniuk was better, or about whatever came to their teenage minds. The pillows that Clare would bury her head in, crying after she heard her parents were divorcing. They spent every living minute with each other after Ms. Dawes had assigned them to be partners for the
year. Well what could go wrong? Apparently a whole lot. Eli and her had
arguments over such stupid things, and then it grew. Eli suggested a break, and hell broke loose. She knew he'd leave her, just like the others. So she went to the closest house party and that's where she screwed up. She drank and drank, washing her troubles away. She made out with a boy or two. She knew Eli would leave her soon, so why not? Everyone left her in the end. Everyone was broken apart in her life, she knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Clare was hurt and troubled. She loved him - scratch that- she loves him. But she thought her and Eli's relationship would end up the same way as her parents.
When Eli found out the next day about what happened to Clare, he was heartbroken. He was angry. He yelled at her in one of the halls in the school. He said she was stuck up, a backstabber, and he never wanted to see her again. He wanted her to die of guilt. The next day, he hung out with Jenna, a popular in the high school of Degrassi. Clare saw him touch her shoulder, laugh at her stupid jokes, and smirk as she kissed him on the cheek. She knew it. He was just like the others.
Months, she cutted away at her soft white thighs, her stomach, her shoulders. She knew it was better that way. She was making herself ugly, unwanted, to remind her that she must suffer. To remind her that with all those scars, she will never find someone to love her, to touch her scarred skin. They would think she was too fucked up. That's what she wanted. For people to leave her alone. For them to know she isn't perfect, and that no one can claim her. Who would love such a monster? Who would love a woman that scars herself up? Who would love an insecure messed up woman as their lover, as their wife? No one.
There are people that want to forget their mistakes and move on. Those people know they will have better times and have many future happy memories. But there are others. Monsters. They want to live every day in their past. They want to scar themselves up and remember their past, because that is what had made them who they are today. They can't just throw the past away. That's all they have to hold on to. That's all they need to show that they are alive. They are suffering, but they are alive, willing to see how much they can take before they absolutely break. How long they can hold back before flowing over the brim, every emotion pouring out like a waterfall that never ends. That shows that we are real. We are all monsters in our own ways.