Sometimes Never (16 page)

             
I draw back from Mason. My body trembles with fear and anger. So much anger.

             
Park’s smile widens. He’s standing above me, grinning. Ready to ruin my life. I catch Guy take a step toward him from my peripheral. “Hm-mm. He must not. You think he’ll still want you when he finds out?”

             
“Dude, what the fuck?” Mason spits. “Back the fuck off.”

             
“NO! You back the fuck off. I’m having a conversation with Hope.”

             
“Park, dude, let’s go for a walk. You need to calm down,” Guy suggests. He takes another step. Park and I are still locked in a staring contest.

             
His smile drops and I know this is it. It’s coming. “Did you know Hope cuts herself?” Just like that. One sentence, so casually spoken, he could have been reading some random fact from a book. One stupid sentence is all it takes for this son of a bitch to crush me.

             
I push myself up and lunge at him. I get one good hit in before Guy is pulling me away. “You mother fucker,” I utter. My voice doesn’t shake. Not a single quiver. It’s cold and even. “Get the fuck out.”

             
“Check her inner right thigh.” Park turns on his heel and glides out of my room, slamming the door behind him. Guy’s hands drop and I sink back to the floor.

             
Nobody moves. Nobody says anything. I’m not sure if anybody even breathes. I don’t know if it’s seconds or minutes, but then I feel a hand gripping my ankle. I don’t understand at first, but I look up and Mason is stretching my leg out. He reaches for the hem of my shorts.

             
“No.” I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip as he takes hold of the fabric. “NO!” I struggle with him. Try to squirm away. Try to kick out at him. He can’t see. He can’t see. He CAN’T SEE. “NO!”

             
And then he does see. He gets my shorts up nearly to my hip and shifts my leg. Angry, ugly, pink and red scars stretch across my flesh. Three of them covered with fresh scabs. Nine of them older.

             
Guy gasps and the room goes still again. I can’t look at either of them. I don’t want to know what they think. What they see. How could Park be so cruel? How could he tell? How could Mason believe him without even asking me? How could he use his strength against me? Overpower me so he could see my secret. How could Guy let him? How could he look?

             
I am alone.

             
Without a word, I slide my shorts back into place. I want to run to my bathroom, lock myself in, and make myself feel better. But Park took that from me.

             
Mason stands up and stomps around my room, shuffling things on my dresser. He heads into the bathroom. Cabinets bang, unknown objects clatter. Guy sits behind me, his legs on either side of mine, and pulls me against him. He presses his cheek against mine and rocks me from side to side soothingly.

             
Mason’s feet stop in front of me. “Is this what you use?”

             
I look at his hand. A silver razor blade lying flatly inside his palm. I nod once. He shoves it into the box with the rest and slips it into his pocket.

             
“Is there anymore?”

             
I shake my head. Then clear my throat. I almost tell him how sometimes I use scissors. Occasionally tweezers or a knife. Razors are just easier. But I don’t tell him. I can at least have that secret.

             
“There’s some in the bathroom I share with Dylan,” Guy says. “I don’t know about my dad’s.”

             
“Do you really think you can just take away the razor blades and I’ll magically stop being in pain? Do you think I’ll just quit? I can get more. I can do other things. I can…” I stop. I shouldn’t be saying this. I should let them believe whatever they want.

             
“You have to stop, honey. You can’t hurt yourself like this anymore.”

             
“Why? You don’t even get it, Guy. I’ve done this since I was twelve years old. I’m not hurting myself. I’m making myself feel better. You can’t take this from me. I won’t make it.”

             
He sucks in a breath and I realize how he must have taken that. I’m not suicidal. I’m not going to kill myself. I just don’t want to go completely insane.

             
“I don’t know what to do,” Mason admits. His eyes flick between me and Guy.

             
I laugh soundlessly. “There’s nothing you
can
do.”

19

Mason

              I haven’t seen Hope since Saturday night. She kicked me and Guy out of her bedroom. And when Kellin and I went home Sunday afternoon, she hadn’t left the room once. I spent the rest of Sunday alternating between texting and calling her. Both of which she ignored, so I talked to Guy a few times. Apparently she wasn’t speaking to him either, but Annie assured him she was all right. Just really pissed off.

             
I lean against my car, ear buds in place, and wait for her to pull into the school parking lot. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a week. It’s hard to believe it’s already been a week. Time has meant nothing lately. Up until yesterday, that is. God, yesterday stretched out so long. It was the first time I haven’t seen or spoken to her since the day we met.

             
I freaking hated it, which is screwed up. The whole thing is screwed up. Hope told me she was damaged. Said she would fuck me up. And she was right. I don’t know if she realized she’d fuck me all up just by refusing to talk to me. But she has.

             
The old Bel Air pulls in and I sigh loudly. Not sure how she’ll react today, I head toward the doors to wait for her. She looks like she always does. I don’t know why, but I expected her to be different. I don’t know. Sad or something.

             
I move in beside her and brush my shoulder into hers. “Hey.”

             
“Hey.” She doesn’t look at me.

             
“How are you?”

             
“I’m fine.”

             
“What did you do yesterday?”

             
“Worked on a couple new songs.”

             
“Oh, what about?”

             
“Just lyrics like I always write.”

             
I stop and take her hand. “Look at me.”

             
“What?” Her voice is neutral and calm and I’ve learned quickly that isn’t a good sign. Her eyes meet mine and she looks at me like she always does only there’s something cold in her gaze.

             
“I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me,” I say. She rolls her eyes and pulls her hand away.

             
“I am talking to you.”

             
“But you’re not saying anything. I called you twenty times yesterday. Text you.”

             
She takes a step closer to me and my stomach tightens in response. I want to pull her against me. I want to hug her and breathe her in. “I’m giving you your out.” And then she turns around and walks away.
What the hell?
I don’t want an out. She’s playing her damn games with me again. Pushing me away. Assuming. Making my choices for me.

             
Well fuck that.

             
I push my way through the hallway traffic and grab her arm, guiding her until her back is against the lockers. “I still want you.”

             
Hope’s eyes squint into a glare. “I’m not a pity project.”

             
I shake my head at the ceiling. “Park put that shit in your head. I don’t pity you. I liked you before I knew. I still like you.”

             
“Then there is something seriously wrong with you.” She pushes off the lockers, trying to walk away, and I push her back with my body. She’s starting to piss me off.

             
“There
is
something wrong with me. I freaking know that. And there’s something wrong with you. I don’t give a shit. I feel good when I’m with you. I want you so bad I can’t even think straight. You are one of the coolest girls I’ve ever met and I want to know you. Stop using bitchiness as a form of self defense and let me in.”

             
“You didn’t even ask me. You shoved yourself on me.” She takes a breath that shakes her small frame. “You held me down and looked. You pulled up my shorts.” She’s struggling to speak now and I’m staring at her in shock. A cold shiver runs over me as dread sets in. I didn’t mean it to be like that. I wasn’t trying to hurt her or scare her. I didn’t think. Maybe one of the biggest, most important pieces of the Hope puzzle is revealed in her frantic eyes.

             
Who made her like this? What happened to her?

             
“Hope…” I don’t know what to say.

             
She shoves me away. “You should have trusted me.”

             
I laugh dryly at that. “Maybe I shouldn’t have handled it the way I did, but don’t say I should’ve trusted you.” I lean my face close to her ear. “Your point is moot since you are, in fact, a cutter.”

             
“I hate you,” she spits and propels herself off the wall past me. I let her go this time because I can’t believe she said that. At the same time, I know I deserve it. I thrust my fist into the locker. The clang of flesh against metal rings throughout the hall. People turn to gawk at me. I kind of want to tell them to fuck off, but instead, I do an about face and go to class.

*******

              I walk into Biology fourth period and Hope is already sitting at a table. Her feet are resting on the chair in front of her. My chair, though she wouldn’t know that since she hasn’t been in school since I started.

             
I place a box of grape Nerds on top of the table and slide it toward her slowly. Her eyes narrow on the candy before she swipes it onto the floor. Twisting her lips in disgust, she opens her book and adamantly ignores me.

             
I scoop up the candy and shove it in my backpack. Message received loud and clear. Her feet drop as I reach for my chair. I sit sideways and clear my throat.

             
“Hey,” I say.

             
Besides the stiffening of her shoulders, Hope makes no indication she hears me. “Hope,” I say louder. “I know you’re pissed, but—”

             
She looks up quickly, her gaze sharp enough to slice me in half. “Don’t.”

             
I freeze. Half of me is relieved that she’s showing some kind of emotion, even if it’s anger. The other half hates that it’s directed at me. “I screwed up,” I say. “I get it, all right?”

             
Both brows rise and she scoffs at me. Her voice is low when she speaks. “You don’t get shit, Mason. That’s the point.”

             
“I would if you talked to me,” I fire back.

             
She shakes her head. “Just leave me alone.”

             
But I don’t want to leave her alone. I want to make her see that I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I want her to understand that I would
never
hurt her. I open my mouth to tell her, but she shoves her chair back, plucks her book bag from the back and strolls out the door just as the bell rings.

             
The girl beside me smiles and scoots her seat closer to mine. I force my own smile before fixing my eyes on the door, waiting for Hope to come back.

             
She doesn’t.

20

Hope

I’m shaking when I close myself in the bathroom. It took everything in me not to hit Mason with my book bag.

             
I can’t believe I actually allowed myself to feel anything for him. I told him things. I got close to him. I know better than that. I trusted him.

             
I trusted him
.

Maybe it’s my stupidity that’s bothering me most.

              My legs go weak and I sit heavily on the disgusting floor. It reeks in here, like urine, cleanser, and about fifteen different perfume scents. I don’t want to be here, but I can’t go back in that classroom and stare at the back of his head.

             
Like a ten year old with a diary, I pour my feelings out onto the pages of my notebook in the form of lyrics. When the bell finally rings, I gladly pack up my things and go to lunch. Until I look at my usual table. My stomach twists when Mason’s eyes meet mine from across the room. Guy follows his gaze back to me and I turn around, walking out the way I came in.