But I think you’re beautiful. You’re lovely.” I shifted uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny and prickling heat in his eyes. “Thanks?” He thinks I'm…lovely? The idea that Kyle thought I was not just hot, but lovely, sent pangs of something like fear through me, an intense pressure in my heart.

I respect the hell out of her for how hard she’s working to be okay. I just wish she’d let me show her how to let go, how to let herself hurt. I want to take her pain.

Hot heart-blood leaked from my face. From my eyes and my nose and my mouth. Not tears, because those would never stop. This was just liquid heartbreak seeping from my pores.

But we have to learn to be free. We have to, Nell. Doesn't mean happy all the time, or okay all the time. It’s okay not to be okay. I told you that, but I'm relearning it myself. But not being okay doesn't mean you stop living.

It wasn't supposed to. It was just supposed to stop you from hurting yourself.” “It helps—” “No it doesn't. It just pushes it away temporarily. Just like the booze.” “But I need—” “You need to let yourself feel. Feel it, own it. Then move on.” “You make it sound so easy.” Bitterness drips from each syllable. “It’s not. It’s the fucking hardest thing a person can do.” I smooth a damp strand out of her face and away from my mouth. “It’s the hardest fucking thing. It’s why we drink and do drugs and fight. It’s why I play music and build engines.

It’s not okay,” I tell her. This gets her attention; it’s not what she was expecting. “You don’t have to be okay.” “What do you want from me?” Her voice is ragged, desperate. “I want you to let yourself be broken. Let yourself hurt.” She shakes her head again. “I can’t. If I let it out, it’ll never stop.” “Yes, it will.

She closes her eyes, and I can see the moisture. She’s deep-breathing again, and I notice her hands are clutched around the opposing wrists, nails digging in deep, hard, scratching. Pain to replace pain.

You can’t hold it in forever,” Colton said, apropos of nothing. “Yes, I can.” I had to. “You’ll go crazy. It’ll come out, one way or another.” “Better crazy than broken.” I wasn't sure where that came from, hadn't thought it or meant to say it. “You’re not broken. You’re hurting.

Let…it…go,” he whispers, his voice a fierce, harsh sound in my hair. “No. No!” The last word is screamed. “You have to. You can’t bleed it out. You can’t keep pretending, drinking it down.

The door slams in response, and I laugh. I'm glad she can laugh. It means she really is coping. I know she’s internalizing a lot, though. Putting on a show for me. She’ll have new scars on her wrists soon.

I don't even know how long she sobs. Time ceases to pass, and she cries, cries, cries. Clutches me and makes these sounds of a soul being ripped in two, the grief so long denied taking its toll. Fermented grief is far more potent.

I bought this place for a pittance, because it was a dump. Rejected, abandoned, unwanted. Like me. I fixed it up. Made it mine.

My thoughts are free to roam back to the way she leaned her head on my arm for a split second, as if wishing she could let herself go, let herself lean farther. But she didn't, and I can’t help but respect her for that, even I know her strength is false, propped up by the shaky girders of Old Man Jack. One day soon, those girders will collapse, and her world will crumble, and I know I have to be there when that happens.

The thought of being completely dependent disturbs people till the moment their eyes are opened to reality.

I should have seen it coming.” The words don’t surprise me, but they piss me off. I pull away and glare down at her. “Don’t you fucking dare, Nell Hawthorne. Don’t you dare put this on yourself. You should never have to see shit like this coming.” She backs away, stunned and afraid by the intensity I know is radiating off me. “Colton, I just meant he’s always shown—” “Stop. Just stop right there. Granted, you should’ve never gotten involved with a douchetard like him, but that’s no excuse for what he did.

I also know I'm not going to stay away. I'm going to grab onto her and let myself get cut. I'm good at pain. I'm good at bleeding, emotionally and physically.

There’s no magical healing in this. I won’t wake up tomorrow fixed and joyful. I’ll still hurt and grieve. But moments like this, with Colton? They make it all bearable. He doesn't fix me, doesn't heal me. He just makes life worthwhile. He helps me remember to breathe, shows me how to smile again. He kisses me, and I can forget pain, forget the urges I still have to cut for the pain that erases the emotions.

I did answer. I said a little. I'm afraid of what you can do. I mean, I feel safe with you, though. I know you’d never hurt me.” I take her face in my hands. It’s too familiar, too affectionate, too soon. I can’t help it, though. “Just the opposite. I will protect you. From others and from yourself. Always.” “Why?” Barely audible. “Because I want to. Because…” I struggle to find the right words. “Because you deserve it, and you need it.” “No, I don’t.

Love notes to my husband, Jeremiah Nii Mama Akita; I will always love you. I am grateful for a blessed life shared with you.

Yeah. I know why she cuts. I just don’t know the seed-reason. It’s deep inside her, and it’ll take time and patience to get it out of her.

The greatest wonderful feeling is falling in love.

If it's me who loves you, you'll know, as I will tell it you in my own words.

It's hard to decide matters of the heart, especially when Self-love is rooted in our decisions. You'll need to balance your needs with the people you love in order to avoid hurting others.

You should really be more careful who you let put their hands on you.” A silky male voice hummed as hot, minty breath wafted around her ear and danced slowly across her nose. Sera inhaled deeply, her skin prickled with goose bumps.

Mr. Carter cleared his throat. “Soy sauce.” He deadpanned. “Really, Sera?

If I were you, I’d clear those cobwebs out because there isn’t a shop-vac out there strong enough to handle that job.

Let me go!” she growls. “No.” “Let me fucking go, Colton.” Her voice is tiny, scared, vulnerable, and vehement. “You let go.” “Why?” A hitch in her voice. “Because holding on to it is killing you.

Oh, god…” I whimper. “I haven’t done anything yet, baby,” Colton growls. “I know,” I pant. “I was just saying your name.

Love is a weakness which converts even the strongest minds as its slave and makes them sing its tune.

Love is what stands in the way of self discovery, try not to find, it will find you.