Page 24 of Rampant

I shook my head quickly. “No, it-it’s the drugs. I need water.” I hated the meek sound of my voice, despised it. Why couldn’t I be stronger? Why couldn’t I jump to my feet and pound my fist into his face?

Don’t enrage the beast further. There’s only one way out, and you know it.

That was not the same voice of hope from a few minutes ago. That was the real me, the voice of despair who gave cold, hard truth.

Zach stood and his expression softened, as if a hint of my brother had returned. Or maybe he was sobering up, now that the frenzy had passed. Now that he’d emptied his cum and his rage into me. I tried not to glance at the knife again, and prayed he’d leave it behind.

“Be right back.” He grabbed it and left the room, taking my hope with him. My heartbeat thudded as his quiet steps receded down the hall. Desperation corrupted my soul, and the overwhelming need to end this possessed me.

Do it now. Before he comes back.

I sprinted to the bathroom, shut and locked the door, then searched the cabinets and drawers for a razor. Empty. Empty, empty, empty! He’d shaved my legs days ago. Where were the razors? I found nothing, save for a lone Q-tip. I flung it to the floor in disgust then scoured the tiny space for something to break the mirror with, my whole body shaking. Finding nothing, I settled for pounding my fist on the glass, wincing against the pain, though it didn’t compare to what Zach had put me through.

What he’ll put you through if you don’t succeed.

A piece broke free, and I clutched it in my bloodied hand. I birthed an unknown creature inside me, one who thirsted for my death. That creature whispered in my ear and told me to turn on the faucet in the tub. Told me to ignore the panic squeezing my chest as the water splashed into the bottom. I stepped over the side, placing one trembling foot inside, before lifting the other over the rim.

Zach banged on the door, words I couldn’t make out screeching through the wood. I couldn’t hear him above the roar in my head—the scream that told me to sink into the depths of my phobia and let it dispose of me. My back slammed against the cold porcelain, and as the door shook under his weight, I took the piece of mirror and gouged it into my left arm, dragging the sharp edge up my forearm to my wrist.

Just like Mom.

I wept, chest heaving uncontrollably, and a tremor of remorse went through me, but it was fleeting. I took the glass, held awkwardly in my left hand, and tore into the opposite wrist. Blood bathed my skin, hiding the faint scars from years of silently screaming.

Free. Finally free.

The glass fell from my fingers. I slumped into the tub, arms plopping into rising water, and closed my eyes as my head dropped against the rim. I wondered if Mom had felt this way. Had she experienced this same clarifying sense of relief? The certainty that the suffering would end soon. I couldn’t wait to see her. I ached to feel her arms around me, craved the sweet scent I still remembered, even to this day. Jasmine. God, I could already smell it.

A crash sounded, and Zach’s scream tore me from my serenity. “Lex!”

He lifted me from the water and held my body to his quaking chest. “Why?” Gut wrenching remorse coated that single word. I cracked my lids open, and through the haze I found his cheeks wet with grief.

I blinked several times until he came into sharper focus. “Can’t do this anymore.” The room narrowed, shadows deepening around the edges. “Zach,” I said, my voice growing weaker. “I’m scared.”

“No”—a sob burst from his mouth—“hang on, baby!”

I felt weightless in his arms, jostled like a rag doll, as he strode from the bathroom. I clung to the protective shell of numbness enclosing my heart, chasing the fear away. I was safe, as light as a feather and floating toward the promise of infinite peace. He laid my drenched body on the bed, where I crashed back to Earth before he disappeared from sight.

What had I done? I lifted my arms, rotated them so the bloody gashes in my skin faced me, and shivered. Cold. Why was I so cold? Why was I still awake? Still alive? Had I done it wrong?

No! I couldn’t even kill myself right. I should have dug deeper.

You did the best you could. Now use this to get out of here.

Why was the voice back? I cried out, horrified by the desperation choking me.

Zach returned, a phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. He held my wrists to the mattress and applied pressure. “Oh God, hurry!” His shoulders shook as tears careened down his face, and the phone toppled to the floor.

“Don’t leave me. Please…I’m sorry. Don’t go. Please don’t go. Lex?” His hands banded around my wrists with incredible strength, as if he could hold the life inside me. “Help’s coming.” He dropped his head onto my stomach, his cheek smearing the bloody product of his madness, and bawled.

Help’s coming.

Those two words echoed like a blessed chant. His lips moved against my skin, but I didn’t hear what he said. All I heard was his promise.

I was getting out of here.

Voices surrounded me, some asking questions. I tried to open my eyes, but my lids were so heavy, as heavy as the weight of my thudding heart.

“Zach?”

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