Crossed Over

by Santana Knox

The other half of me knew I was both versions of myself, and that the dead and numb version of me was the only one who could finish what we...

I didn’t even want to be here, and now, I was literally going to be chased by the person I was running from. No, that wasn’t true. I was running from myself.

When you’re a woman, your anger is either childish or irrational. It’s never justified. So I didn’t care to try to explain myself anymore.

Here Harvey was, pissing me off, making me feel and think things I didn’t need to add to my pile of problems. Worse was that she was somehow still trying to take care of me when she wasn’t even here. And why did that make me so angry?

“She would be doing it even if she didn’t want to get into your pants. She can’t help it,”

“I don’t even know why you’re fighting it so much.” “What?”

“I’m not...

“And how many times have you said tha...

“I’m not.” “Okay, so when you watch porn, are you looking at t...

“The girl, but that’s not even relative. Nobody’s looking at the men and all their dangly

weird parts,”

“That doesn’t make...

“That’s the gayest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Nia.” ...

“L-l-l-le...

“Bean licker, carpet muncher, ...

“You look pale, Nia.”

“I can’t believe you’re having your coming out moment with us, right now.”

“This is magical.” “...

Except for Harvey. She was running fucking marathons through my head, and it was endless torture to deal with. This stupid girl who invaded my life and treated me better than anyone ever had, who thought she had the right to make my problems her own, who made me laugh way too easily, who knew just how to push my buttons in order to force me to be a better version of myself.

This was hate. This was loathing, this was fucking… Love.

It was exactly like Harvey said: sometimes, everything was all too much, and something to dull that sharp sting of existence didn’t feel so bad every now and then.

“I wanted to be around you.”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,”

“And?”

“And apparently, that means you might love someone. Or hate them.”

“Still out for debate.”

“Please tell me I can kiss you.” Her eyes were glued to my lips, and my stomach fluttered something awful.

“I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

I didn’t know what I expected kissing Cat Harvey would be like, but it was clarity. It was as if I’d been consumed, devoured whole, then reassembled, like being spaghettified through a black hole and then recomposed on the other side.

Before my tongue even tangled through hers, I knew I was irrevocably in love with her. I knew all I needed was to be loved back by her.

“Don’t cry, Nia.”

“I’m already brown and autistic. I wasn’t prepared to add ‘lesbian’ to the mix.”

“You can laugh.”

If I couldn’t laugh, I would certainly cry.

She smelled so fucking good, like apricots and citrus and something else intoxicatingly sweet.

And the one where I told her I was staying in Devil Town. For good.

I didn’t think people actually slept like this, twisted and tangled into each other, and yet here I was, the most rested I’d felt all week.

“I like you smelling like my soap.”

“It feels too good to be true.”

“It can feel like that

when you’re used to someone always pulling the rug out from under you.”

“But I promise, as long as you’re honest with me, I will keep that from ever happening. Do you trust me, Nia? Can you trust me enough to let go?” I was locked in the vortex of her stare, finding that the only time I’d ever truly wished to be ...

“You think I’m just here to discover myself?”

“That seems to be all I’m good for. I’m just tired of getting used, tired of being a steppingstone in everyone’s path to discovery before they throw me away.”

“Why do you think I’m going to throw you away?”

“Isn’t that why you keep ignoring your mom’s calls? Because telling the truth would be too permanent?”

“Do I feel like a fucking phase, princess?”

“No. You don’t feel like a phase.” She was the only person I would ever want, the only one I needed.