Two Poor Kids

"Mom, I really don't need to see Tina again." I sigh, following her down the perfectly shiny steps.

"You may not think so, but we need to work through your issues."

"We? Mom, you aren't helping at all. If anything you're making it worse." I say calmly, and walk back upstairs, hearing her sigh behind me.

I sit on the edge on my bed, and wait for my dad to come marching into my room, demanding I apologize to mom. But this time, I won't. I have nothing to apologize for, I simply told the truth. As I suspected, a few minutes later, he comes storming into my room.

"Erin, you need to apologize to your mother." He says, like he does every time.

"No." I say simply. His eyes widen.

"What?"

"No, dad, I'm not saying sorry to her this time. I ALWAYS apologize. Maybe once in her life she could be the bigger person and apologize to ME? I don't need to see that counselor, I've got it under control." I sigh. He grabs my arm and pull my shirt sleeve up, revealing fresh cuts.

"You call that under control?" He asks, looking straight at me, which he only does if he's serious.

I pull my arm back and cover the cuts up, "Yes." I say. He sighs and walks out, closing the door behind him. Well, if they're making me go, I'll just find a way to NOT go. I climb out of the window, and hop onto the freshly cut grass.

As I walk around for a little while, I start thinking: Would it be such a bad thing if Mikey and I were a thing?

I mean, he's really nice, and we have a lot in common, and he's funny, right? So then why am I trying to avoid it? I guess I don't want to ruin this thing. No, that's bullshit. I always ruin things. Maybe... Oh shit, maybe I'm scared. I mean, he's the first actual friend I've had before Kasey, if it ends badly, it could ruin everything.

"Hey." Speak of the devil. I turn around slowly, and see Michael. Damn he looks good.

"Hi." I smile awkwardly,because hey, I was just thinking about you sounds fucking creepy. Ugh why is my life so confusing?

"How are you?" He asks in his Australian accent. We live in America, by the way, that's why I keep saying in his Australian accent. I get this burning urge to kiss him for a second, but I do my best to ignore it.

"Fine." Oh, by the way, 'fine' means Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, Emotional. In my world. "You?"

"Eh." He shrugs.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask, and he laughs. Don't blush, don't you dare blush, Erin.

"My parents are being crazy again." He chuckles. Oh my goood I want yooou.

"Same here." I laugh. That's it, just play it cool. The urge gets bigger. I swallow, trying to get rid of it. I sit on a curb, and he sits beside me. Oh come on, I'm dying over here.

"What did yours do?" He asks.

"They're making me stay at Tina's." I groan, putting my head in my hands. Not because I'm annoyed, which I am, but because I'm about to blush really hard and I don't want him to see. "What did yours do?" I ask, done blushing.

"Literally the same thing." He laughs. DON'T FUCKING LAUGH I CAN'T TAKE IT.

"Huh, wow." I smile. The flame inside of me, mixed with the voice telling me to risk it all and go for it, I suddenly feel like I can't breathe. I take short little breaths. Jesus I need a blade right now. "Uh- Can I ask you something?" I say to him. He nods, "Any chance you have.. Something to.."

"Cut?" He asks.

"Yeah." I say awkwardly.

"I'm not giving it to you."

"Why not?" I ask, taking short breaths.

"Because if I give you this knife, you'll cut. I don't want you self harming yourself like that." He shrugs. Oh my god fuck me. No. No that's to serious. Well..

"But you self harm." I say instead. Ugh, I want you so badly! Just look at me! Can't you tell?!

"Yeah, that doesn't mean I want you too." He says.

"Kay." I say, doing my best to breathe. "No, Michael, please, I need it." I say. He shakes his no. "Michael, PLEASE." I say desperately. If I don't cut I'm going to lose it.

"No." He shakes his head again. Here goes nothing. I scoot really close to him, and put my chin on his shoulder.

"Pwease Mikey?" I ask.

"No, Erin." He laughs. I slip my hand into his jean jacket, making him tense, and pull out his knife, quickly turning away from him and slicing a piece of skin. I hand it back to him.

"Thanks." I finally catch my breath. I know, it's kinda weird, huh? Cutting is like my cure. I've just gotten so used to it. "Wanna go for a walk?" I ask.

"I guess so." He shrugs, putting the knife back in his jacket pocket.

As we walk, he rambles on about something, while I think about what I have been.

"Michael." I ask, cutting him off.

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about risks?" I ask.

"Um. I dunno. It kind of depends. I mean if you want to jump off a cliff, I'd recommend no, if you want to get a job, I guess, it's not very punk rock though." He laughs. I think over what he says, and then I suddenly come to a realization of something:

When have I EVER been afraid of taking risks?

I turn to Michael, take him by his shirt and pull him in really close, and kiss him.

Oh damn I love risks.

Notes