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Shannon looked at me for a long time before whispering, “You’re different, Lizzie Young.” “I am?” She nodded and smiled. “You’re special.” “Is that bad?” “No.” She shook her head, still smiling. “You remind me of Joe.” “Your brother?” “Yep.” She nodded again. “And that’s a very good thing.”
She didn’t look like anything I’d ever seen before. She sort of resembled a ghost. Or an angel. Something different. Something special.
Golden skin. Yellow hair. Kind smile. Eyes like Daddy’s whiskey. Soap and strawberries. Hugh Biggs.
It was hard to explain the comfort Hugh’s presence gave me. He made it easy to be alive. I knew that was a strange thing to think, but it was how I felt. Living was a lot easier when Hugh was nearby. When I was doing my living with him.
“I…” I opened my mouth to answer him but all that came out was a shaky breath, because what could I tell him? That I was plagued by the monsters my own imagination had conjured up to terrorize me? That I was tormented by sickening images and horrendous thoughts that made me want to die? Or how about telling him that I was filthy, impure, and defective? Which one was I supposed to tell him about? Which sin would be the one that drove him away? “I’m just having a bad day,” I finally settled on.
None of it scared me off being with her, though. Because, even if I didn’t have the emotional capacity to truly appreciate the battles she fought, I had the wherewithal to acknowledge the gifted mind hidden beneath the fractured particles.
Before then, I used to scratch and tear at my skin or burn myself in the bath when the pressure in my head got too much, but nothing I’d ever tried before compared to the peace I found from the sharp edge of a blade. After that, I was a slave to the pain. To the temporary relief from my pain. The pain nobody could see. The pain in my mind.
Stars and scars, gaping and hollow, cut, cut, cut, slice, slice, slice. The bloodier the mess, the longer the peace of mind. Imprints on my skin that mirrored the pain imposed on my heart.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Gibsie sobbed, crying as hard as Lizzie now. “I’m sorry, Liz, I wasn’t there.” Lizzie released one more gut-wrenching sob before looking Gibs right in the eyes and saying, “Don’t ever speak to me again.” It was at that exact moment I came to the sudden realization that nothing would ever be the same.
“No matter what?” She hiccupped, fisting my shirt for dear life. “Yeah, Liz.” My heart slammed against my chest bone, and I kissed her hair again. “No matter what.”
Yeah, I distinctly remembered skipping. I felt that much joy. My memories turned hazy after that.
“If you were a cake, you’d eat yourself, Gibs.” “Damn straight I would,” he wholeheartedly agreed, whipping off his shirt to flex his pecs. “Have you seen me?” Grinning, he kissed his bicep and rolled his hips like a damn porn star. “I’m fucking delicious.”
