The retrieval of Bunny was an act that seemed to hit a chord with Hallie, improving our strained relationship considerably. Things would never be the same again, of course, how could they? But we’d taken baby steps forwards from the fierce hatred that had been stewing for months on end. It was refreshing to be in each other’s company without the tense atmosphere. It had been a tough couple of months following Bunny’s near mishap, due to losing half of our supplies. Thankfully it was Hallie’s pack that we’d lost, which was only half as full as mine. Finding a new backpack and supplies was a daunting task. No matter how many times I’d done it, I hated every second of breaking in to somewhere, not knowing what might be behind the lock I’d picked or the window I’d smashed.
My collection of IDs was growing slowly with each day. With each life I took, I stole a piece of them to take with me so I’d never forget what I’d inflicted on others. My body count, something I’d never even dreamed I’d one day have, had hit 11 at this point. I was never relieved that I’d survived an encounter, only guilty that I’d forced another premature last breath by my hand.

Every day was a challenge, there was never any ease of pressure. I wasn’t sure that life would be any different once we actually reached California. We’d surely be stuck in the same routine, living in fear as we tried to survive on as little food and water as possible. It was already beginning to take its toll on us, we were constantly exhausted and ratty. It was a battle to get anywhere. Our feet were blistered, our necks were sunburnt and our clothes were looking particularly awful. Nothing stayed clean for long, and we seldom got the opportunity to wash them. Between all this and being the only adult – and therefore the bearer of all responsibility, I felt bitter and angry. My emotions were threatening to boil over, and I was desperate to find an outlet for my frustration as it built.

I came across that outlet completely by accident. It started as the innocent picking of scabs through boredom, quickly becoming a compulsive search for more; a longing for the sting that came with levering the deadness off the expose raw flesh. I was obsessed with the feeling, gritting my teeth as my fingernail would dig under the dry edges. Every stab of pain brought a strange kind of relief, a focus that let me escape the real world for a short period of time. It also brought about a sense of satisfaction, a fitting punishment that I could administer whenever I thought about all the things I’d done. Before long, I’d moved past seeking out the fleeting opportunities that came with naturally occurring injuries. I struck up a love affair with my knife, the same one that had been involved in the cause of Viola’s death now existed to mark the memory of her departure onto my body forever. I’d wait until Hallie was sleeping, and then sneak off to find myself somewhere to be alone with my thoughts and my steely scourge. With careful precision, I’d paint my thighs crimson with my disdain for myself and everything I’d done, or hadn’t done. Every speck of hate, no matter how small or fleeting, needed recording, and my skin was a welcoming journal for my self-loathing. I’d look at every single ID that I had, and force myself to remember every single one of their last moments, their last breaths; and then I’d think of Viola. Viola, Viola, Viola, over and over. I’d never forgive myself.

“Look, Auntie Maz!” Hallie breathed, pointing over at the sign. “We’ve left Texas!”
I looked up at the sign properly, actually paying attention to it.
Welcome To New Mexico – The Land Of Enchantment
I raised an eyebrow. The Land Of Enchantment, indeed. After walking for so long, I was anything but enchanted. It had taken us this long just to get to the next state over from home, and it wasn’t like we’d even walked that far in the grand scheme of things. It was becoming painfully obvious to me that we’d never reach California, but as far as better plans went, I had nothing, so onward we walked.

Hallie was already passed out upstairs. I looked over her small form, rising and falling slowly with her relaxed breathing, and felt my heart sink. She was more at peace in the last two days than she’d ever been in the last two years. I desperately wanted to give her everything she needed, but I was far from the best thing for her. I thought back over the last hour, how much fun she’d had, we’d had. Hallie deserved the break from reality, but who was I to be laughing and smiling? I was the least deserving person in the world. I’d taken her mother away, and her sister, not to mention all the other lives I’d taken - many of them right before her eyes. I turned away from her angelic innocence and snuck off, ashamed of my actions. The bathroom didn’t provide the refuge I was hoping for. The extravagantly large mirror shot my judgemental reflection back at me, her accusatory looks burning holes into my flesh. My soul had become so ugly that I barely recognised myself anymore; the stranger staring at me from the mirror proved that. I tried to pull myself back from the path that I was currently sprinting down but the bubbling hatred under my skin had already reached boiling point. I tiptoed back down the hallway to our room and crept in to search for my sharp and criticising friend. Holding my breath each time Hallie snuffled or turned, I managed to dig through my belongings until the blade was in my hands. We stole away together back to the bathroom, the heady mix of guilt and imminent relief already pumping through my veins, just waiting to leak out. I slid my jeans down, kicking them from my feet impatiently. The urge to press the blade to my thighs was like a persistent itch; and when it flared up, I had to scratch it. The scratch brought pain rather than pleasure, but in some twisted way, it was also comforting and reassuring. Of all the things I’d lost control over, my body was not one of them. I brought the knife down and, without hesitation, began my ritual. My mind ran through the names of those whose lives I’d ended. I’d stared at their pictures for countless hours, committing to memory every crease on their faces, every freckle and blemish, until I knew them inside out. With each name, I’d start a new stroke, running over and over my already scarred skin. When I got to my sister, I pushed harder, deeper, letting the overwhelming regret course down my arms and through the knife, where it bit into my skin with venom.

“What are you doing?”
Jimmy’s voice rang out into the darkness, sending a flood of cold panic through my chest. I flung the knife away from me, as though he hadn’t already seen what I was doing. I scrabbled in the dim light for my jeans, ashamedly trying to cover myself up. I hadn’t actually looked in Jimmy’s direction yet, there was no way I wanted to make eye contact with him ever again but I could sense that he was still standing there, frozen in horrified fascination. He stayed quiet as I slid my jeans up roughly, wincing as they scraped against my fresh wounds.
I turned to him, humiliated and ready to fight, “What are you doing?”
“Looking for you,” he replied, eyeing the red spots that were beginning to seep through the denim that clung against my legs.
“Okay. Well, you found me. What do you want?” I snapped, my harsh tone making him flinch. I tried to read his expression in the low light as he blinked at me.
“I was just… Nothing,” he conceded, backing off from my viciousness. He took a couple of steps backwards, looking as though he wanted to say something, but ultimately decided against it. I watched him as he turned abruptly, and his figure retreated down the hall.
I let out the breath I’d been holding in, and closed my eyes tightly, willing away the sinking remorse that was digging into my brain.
“Fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath, making to go after him. “Jimmy!”
He’d gotten half way down the hallway, and stopped upon hearing my call. He didn’t look back though, he didn’t want to. I knew why. It was the same reason I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I contemplated letting him slip away, but I felt like I owed him an apology at least. Approaching him slowly, I put my hand out to turn him. My touch against his shoulder made him tense up, but he allowed my hand to guide him around until he was facing me. His sapphire eyes displayed a million emotions all at once, and I could feel them piercing into my own, as though they could silently extract the information without having to have the fumbled conversation that came with it.
“Why?” he asked flatly, when I failed to find any words. “Why are you doing that to yourself?”
“It’s complicated,” I replied, my eyes pleading with him to accept my poor answer.
“It’s complicated?” he repeated in disbelief.
“Yes,” I answered, more firmly this time. I wasn’t anywhere near ready to explain the situation to anyone, let alone a man I’d met just two days ago.
“Try me,” he challenged, looking at me with determination.
I rolled my eyes, “Why? What would you possibly do with my answer?”
“I want to understand,” he interjected, irritably, “You shouldn't be doing that. I want to help you.”
“Help me?” I shot back, becoming annoyed with his interest in the subject, and his subsequent disapproval of it.
“It doesn’t take much to see that you’re unhappy,” he replied, his voice softening. “I’ve been trying to help you loosen up and enjoy life a bit more.”
I scoffed, “What am I? A project? I don’t need fucking saving, Jimmy.”
“I didn’t say you did,” he quickly answered, trying to shut down the impending argument. A heavy silence hung between us while I decided on my next move. My instinct was to snap, to drive him away in a selfish act of self-preservation. He’d cornered me, and like a wounded animal I lashed out to keep him away.
“Why don't you fucking leave me alone? I don’t need your help and I certainly don’t want your pathetic attempts to make me happy,” I spat, watching his heart crack a little more with each word, until I delivered the fatal blow with the last one. I saw him almost flinch as it pierced him, his lips pressing together as my corrosive talk stung tears into his eyes.
“Okay,” he shrugged. We stared at each other for a moment, both wanting the other to say something that would remedy the poison I’d injected into our dynamic, but no words came. Jimmy turned, silently. A crippling flood of despair washed its way into my chest as he walked away, its suffocating grip shrivelling my heart. Another person I’d hurt.

I cleared away the evidence of my self-hatred and slunk back to the bedroom, tail between my legs. The act hadn’t brought me relief, instead, Jimmy’s discovery of it had plunged my mind even deeper into the turmoil. As I slipped under the covers next to Hallie, Jimmy invaded my mind. His widened eyes haunted me, full to the brim with confusion and hurt – confusion and hurt that I’d caused. My face crumpled as I admonished myself for marring another innocent person with my selfishness. And Jimmy no less, who’d done nothing but conjure smiles and laughter from me. As the tears leaked from my eyes, I turned my face into the pillow so that my sobs wouldn’t wake Hallie. I played my conversation with Jimmy on a loop in my head until I fell into a restless sleep, with every fibre of my being stinging with pure heartache.

Notes

I'm sorry. Don't hurt me.