THE SEVENTH

I wake disorientated. The room is dark, and I am hot, far too hot. It takes me a second to realise that I am trapped under Taylor’s dead weight, and I find myself wriggling in his arms to gain a little space. I sense a change in Taylor as his breathing lightens, and when I roll over to face him, I find myself staring into his serious brown eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers. “You okay? What happened?”

My body trembles at the memories. “I was just lying there daydreaming, and then all of a sudden all those images from the blog started running through my head, and then I was back there in the moment, watching myself cut my wrists.” Tears are sliding down my face, and Taylor brings up his thumb to wipe them softly away.

“What can I do to help?” I can hear the hitch in his voice as if he is as affected by this as much as I am.

“Make me forget. I close my eyes and it is all I see. I wish I could make it go away.” I hate the weakness in my voice. Every time I think I am getting a handle on things