The Damned

by Jennifer Snyder

  Lines stemming in all directions marred my skin. Some intersected and others overlapped, puckering in spots where the thickness of the scar tissue met. As my eyes trailed over them, each memory of how and when I had put them there burst to the surface of my mind. The most recent marks were the ones with the most vivid memories though.

  My hand came up to smooth along my torso, where the bulk of them were. Memories from when I first decided to cut myself flickered through my mind. For the most part, I’d been smart about it; I had taken note of the best places on my body—the best to reach, but also the best area to hide them from others. At first, I used the bottoms of my feet, but soon figured out that just made it painful to walk. Then I moved on to my fingertips, but the Band-Aids were a pain in the ass, so my torso had become my favorite place.

  I dropped my hand to my side and raked my eyes over the disfigured skin of my upper body once more. It was an outward reflection of my soul. I locked eyes with myself in the mirror. They were wide, unblinking, and dilated to the point of making me appear evil. A loud clap of thunder broke my concentration and forced me to shift my gaze elsewhere. That was all it took for me to remember the razor was in the top drawer of the nightstand. My feet were moving to retrieve it the next second.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  EMORY

  The sounds of my mother’s frantic voice woke me. Something had happened, but I couldn’t remember what. The clips of dotted vision, and the strange sensation of being coherent in the mind, but not the body, shifted through my head.

  I had blacked out.

  “Are you okay?” There was a tremor in my mother’s voice, and I realized my head was cradled in her lap as she smoothed a hand across my hairline. “Does anything hurt?”

  I thought for a moment before answering. Did anything hurt? I took inventory of myself.

  “Emory, does anything hurt, honey?” my dad repeated when I didn’t answer fast enough.

  “No, not really. I have a little headache, but that’s all.”

  I moved to sit up, being sure to go slowly. The room spun, and my heart rate spiked as worry for what had happened crashed through me. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.

  “Scott, why don’t you get her some water?” I heard my mother say.

  The muffled noise of my father walking away filled my ears.

  “Have you eaten? Do you want me to make you something?” The raw concern laced within my mother’s words made warmth bloom in my chest.

  The direct attention from her felt incredibly good. My eyes lifted to find hers; they were soft and filled with an ample amount of alarm. I couldn’t remember the last time she had looked at me in this manner.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I picked up something on the way home. I’m just tired. First day of school and the intense routine I’ve been practicing wiped me out, I think,” I lied, knowing perfectly well I had most likely passed out due to the lack of food I’d eaten over the last week or so.

  “Here, drink this.” A glass of ice water was thrust in my face. I glanced up, seeing a similar look of concern burning in my father’s eyes. This warmed me even more.

  This moment with my parents fussing over me as if I were five again was priceless.

  Chelsea and all of her outbursts and issues over the years came rushing through my mind. Maybe this was why she chose to behave the way she did, because in her worst moments, the ones that scared our parents to death, she finally felt loved.

  “Thanks.” I reached out and took the glass from him. Water, there were no calories in plain water. I downed it and felt the contents slosh around in my empty stomach. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

  Mom took the empty glass from my hand and patted my thigh. “Okay, some sleep will do you good. Maybe I should talk with your coach and see about cutting back on practices?”

  “No. No, don’t do that.” I panicked. I had worked too hard to cut back and fall behind. I could handle this. I had to. “I’m fine. I’ll get some sleep tonight and be good as new tomorrow. Promise.”

  “Are you sure?” There was a skeptical glare flitting through my father’s eyes. For a split second, I wondered if he knew what I had done, if he knew I’d been practically starving myself lately. “Your mom might be right about this one.”

  His words shocked me. My parents were agreeing on something? They hadn’t agreed on anything in months, until now, but it happened to be about cutting back on what I loved most. What the heck was wrong with this picture?

  “I’m fine. Honestly.” I forced my lips to twist into the best fake smile I could manage. “I just need to get some sleep. I pushed myself too hard today, that’s all. I won’t overdo it again. I know my limits now.”

  “Well, I’ll be keeping an eye on you from now on. If I think you’re running yourself ragged again, then I’ll have no choice but to say something to Karen,” my mother added. The severity of her words could be registered in every aspect of her.

  “I know. That’s fine.” The words burned as I forced them past my lips, but they had to be said. If not, then all the concern and worry reflected in their eyes would disappear, taking with it the warmth of love coursing through me I hadn’t felt from them in so long.

  I stood on shaky legs and walked up the stairs to my bedroom. The lightheadedness I had felt earlier hit me the second I reached the top of the stairs, but I forced it down. I couldn’t afford to pass out again. If I did, my mother would march straight to the phone and call Karen to tell her what had happened, and then I would be on my way to the hospital, I was sure.

  Once I made it to my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for support as I steadied my breathing. Never in my life had I blacked out before. Crossing my room, I thought about what could have caused me to pass out besides lack of food while I stripped out of my clothes. Reaching around to unhook my bra, I happened to glance at my bedroom window. My mind had been so jumbled with thoughts and panic I had forgotten to close the blinds. Cole stood at his window, smoking his nighttime cigarette while staring at me unabashedly.

  I covered myself with my arms as best I could and walked to the window. Cole didn’t move. He didn’t look away. He didn’t even smile. He continued to stare while puffing on his cigarette, his eyes locked on me as though I were the most fascinating thing in the world. A tiny part of me wanted to drop my arms and continue to undress while he watched. A shiver slid through me as I thought of how exciting that would be. I wondered if his expression would change. Would he smile, would he lick his perfect lips, would he feel turned on by the sight?

  Swallowing hard, I tugged on the cord to the blinds and dropped them quickly, knowing all those feelings were wrong, because of everything that had just happened downstairs. Just before the blinds descended far enough to block my view of him completely, I noticed Cole’s lips twist into his signature smirk. The sight of it sent heated shivers rippling through my body.

  I chewed my bottom lip as I continued dressing for bed, fighting against the urge building inside of me to peek out the blinds and see if Cole was still there. After I flipped my bedroom light off, I tiptoed across my room and pressed my fingers between two slats on the blinds, finally giving into the temptation. He was no longer there, but his light was still on. I spotted him standing in the center of his room, shirtless. Before my eyes could take him in the way I desperately wanted to, he glanced over his shoulder at my window as though he could feel my eyes on him, and I jumped back, releasing the blinds.

  Had he known I was looking at him? Had he seen my fingers pushing the slats apart as I stared at him?

  If he did, I wondered what he thought. Feeling my body flush with heat and the flap of excited butterflies take up residence in my stomach, I made my way toward my bed. I was fascinated with the boy next door. He was everything I wasn’t—rebellious and wild, indifferent about everything, and completely unique. The only thing we seemed to share was the level of brokenness we each harbored, but this was enough to pull me toward h
im more.

  I covered up, replaying the insanity that had occurred between Cole and me. Then I remembered how I had blacked out. I reached for my cell lying on my nightstand to Google if not eating could make a person blackout. A few question and answer type things popped up first, and then came sites that referenced blacking out with getting drunk, which was not my issue. So I decided to type in side effects of not eating, and my entire world split in two.

  Eating disorders was the first thing to come up.

  While I wasn’t stupid, I still hadn’t thought about what I was doing as a form of an eating disorder. I’d thought about it as more along the lines of a diet. Seeing the definitions for each of the symptoms and effects for anorexia was jarring though, because that was what I was doing. To have a label as scary as that placed on the calorie counting I’d been so obsessive about was enough to make panic clog my mind and force me to black out again.

  Even so, it wasn’t enough to make me want to stop.

  I had been able to shed the weight I needed. In order to keep that weight off, I still needed to continue to count calories and eat little.

  Deep down I knew that wasn’t the true reason I wanted to continue though; it was because I enjoyed the feeling of control that went along with it.

  I was the one with the power, and there was no way I would ever let myself become so sickly thin that I would need any sort of help the way these people did.

  After bookmarking the page on my phone, I set it on the nightstand beside my bed and lay awake for a while, mapping out the things I would allow myself to eat tomorrow so I could continue to have the control that I craved.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  COLE

  The image of Emory pulling off her shirt and slinking out of her shorts would be a hard one to forget. Not that I’d ever want to. It just would be hard to block the images out the next time I looked at her, because I knew what was beneath her clothing—tanned, silky smooth skin, devoid of imperfections. I had seen her in nothing besides a bathing suit top and a pair of cut-off shorts the first day I moved to Baycrest, but it didn’t compare to seeing her in her bra and lacy panties. Even though a bathing suit covered the same amount of skin, it was still different—sexier somehow. Erotic.

  My lips quirked into a small smile as I wondered what had been going through her mind when she noticed me in my window. I had been soaking in every inch of her with pleasure. While it might not have registered on my face, I had felt it nonetheless. My smile widened as I wondered if she had questioned whether to leave the blinds open and continue undressing in plain sight for me.

  Dear God, I hoped so. I prayed the thought had at least crossed her mind for a split second, if nothing else.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek and flipped off my bedroom light. As I lay down, a replay of Emory undressing swam through my mind. I tucked my arms behind my head and stared up at the popcorn ceiling as clips of her toned body encompassed me. Electricity buzzed through every part of me as I wondered when and if I would ever get a chance to see all of her.

  * * * *

  The sound of my cell chirping as the alarm went off woke me the next morning. Sitting up, I switched it off and wiped the crust of drool from the side of my mouth. Running my hands though my hair, I remembered the damage I had done to myself last night as pain shot through my stomach at the action. Glancing down, I took in the fresh slash marks across my torso. I’d taken the razor to myself in my moment of complete darkness and decided to carve unintentional designs into my skin there. It was the most I had ever done in one night, and until they fully scabbed over and healed some, I would be regretting them. I brushed my fingertips over them, hoping to ease the itch crawling across my skin.

  A soft knock on my bedroom door startled me. I slipped out of bed and rummaged around for a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

  “Yeah?” I yelled out.

  “Hey, it’s me. I just, um…” Julie’s soft voice sounded muffled as it passed through the wood door. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about last night. Nick and I should have handled that better.”

  I paused. What was I supposed to say to that? It’s okay? Hell no, those words were not coming from my lips. I didn’t want to talk about this at all. I’d had my fill yesterday. Couldn’t they just forget it and go back to their happy little lives?

  “Listen, if you ever need someone to talk to, I want you to know you can come to me,” Julie insisted. I pulled the door open and met her startled, yet hopeful, stare. “I don’t know how recent those marks are, but I want you to know that you don’t have to resort to bottling everything up anymore and harming yourself. You can come to me, or even Nick if you feel more comfortable, and talk to us instead.” Her eyes kept dropping to the old cigarette burns on my arms as she spoke before coming back up to meet my stare.

  “Okay.” My voice was empty and indifferent, exactly the way I wanted it to be.

  This wasn’t some episode of Dr. Phil, and I wasn’t about to let her act as though it was. While I wasn’t planning on coming to her or Nick anytime soon with my problems, I also wasn’t about to open up to her at 7:10 in the damn morning. She needed to know that.

  “All right.” Her lips pursed together. “Well, I’ll let you get ready for school, I guess. By the way, how was your first day?”

  “Peachy.” I slammed the door in her face.

  Damn it. Now my life would be a living hell. Julie would pester me to death, and Nick would eyeball me. If either one of them were to see the mess I’d made of myself last night, they would flip. I needed to find something to do that would keep me away from them and their watchful eyes, at least until they forgot.

  Glancing down at the black T-shirt with the faded cover of a Three Days Grace CD on the front, I decided I was as ready for school as I was going to get. I slipped on my worn out pair of Vans sneakers and picked up my book bag from the floor. After heading across the hall to brush my teeth, I jogged down the stairs and out the door.

  Once I made it to the end of the driveway without seeing Julie or Nick, I lit a cigarette and started walking in the direction of Baycrest High. The warm rays of early morning sunlight pounded down on me. The air was thick and held the promise of another humid day. Since moving here, I had come to realize that I enjoyed the cold harshness of winter more than the heat of summer. It was funny how I had never given much thought to something as trivial as which season I enjoyed most until now.

  A black Mini Cooper pulled up beside me and matched my slow pace. A smile played at the corners of my lips, because I knew who it was. Taking another pull off my cigarette, I cocked my head to make sure I was right. Sure enough, Emory sat behind the steering wheel. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of hideously large sunglasses that resembled bug eyes, but her lips were twisted into the smallest of smiles. Her window was rolled down, and she was glaring at me while still trying to keep her car between the lines.

  “Can I help you?” My voice held just the right amount of cockiness and swagger. I was proud.

  “Do you want a ride?”

  Her question surprised me, considering giving me a lift to school would entail us being seen together on school grounds—something I hadn’t thought she wanted to happen. She had a social status I was nowhere near. Being seen with me would surely raise a few eyebrows among her friends.

  “Sure.” I couldn’t deny her request, even if some would deem her giving me a lift as social suicide.

  High school was vicious like that. If you could survive high school, then I was positive you could survive anything in life.

  Emory’s car came to a rolling stop, and the sound of her unlocking her doors met my ears. We rode to school in silence. The radio was turned off, so the only sounds I heard were my heartbeat and the wind blowing through the rolled down windows of her car. Glancing at her, I wondered what was going through her mind. What had possessed her to stop and offer me a ride?

  “What?” She’d noticed me staring.

  I shrugged, but continued
to watch at her. “Nothing, just wondering why you offered to give me a lift today.”

  Her eyes shifted from the road for a spilt second to glance at me. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she chewed her bottom lip before answering. “I just did. I wanted to.”

  “Your mom wouldn’t approve; doubt your dad would either.”

  “So?” she countered with a little more sass than I’d thought she was capable of.

  A smirk twisted my lips. “Okay, then.”

  Silence wrapped around us again, but I knew it wouldn’t last. She was toying with words in her mind, waiting until she could line them up correctly before she spoke again. It was written on her face. My eyes dropped to her legs, and my mind was suddenly filled with images of her undressing last night.

  “Why were you watching me last night?” Her question came at me hard and fast, leaving me feeling surprised. It was almost as though she could read my mind. While I had been waiting for her to say something, that had definitely not been it.

  “Because I wanted to,” I said simply, honestly.

  A pink tint spread up her neck and across her cheeks. She was embarrassed, which was something I didn’t necessarily want her to feel when she thought about my eyes grazing over her exposed skin.

  “I liked what I saw too,” I admitted, turning on what little charm I could muster. I wasn’t a charmer, never had been. With my horrible home life rumors, and bad boy reputation because of it, I had never been able to charm the girls out of their panties. I also hadn’t needed to. They had all dropped them out of sheer rebellion against their parents for me.

  With Emory though, things were different; she was different. I knew it the first moment I saw her.