Prologue
Today is the one year anniversary of my suicide attempt. A lot of people would probably think it’s morbid of me to celebrate a thing like that. But I’m not celebrating the fact that, a year ago, I swallowed a bunch of pills in hope of death’s mercy. I’m celebrating the fact that I can now look at myself in the mirror without breaking down at the sight of the scars that still mark my skin. I turn off the water and take a deep breath, the fresh scent of my citrus filling my nostrils.
Stepping out of the shower, I stand in front of the mirror as I use my finger to trace the lines on my chest made by his knives. “I am strong.” I whisper to myself, “A tiger who has earned her stripes.” The side of my mouth twitches at the clicheness of the expression.
The flashbacks don’t overwhelm me like they used to. I’m not saying that I don’t still get them sometimes, I do, but they’re tolerable now. I can handle them.
That night was one of the most awful nights of my life. It’s up high on the list, along with all of the nights I had come home, fearing which version of my mom waited behind the door. The night I came home early only to find her, unresponsive, in the bathtub. I had watched, wrapped in a soft blanket, as the paramedics took her water-wrinkled body away. I loved my mom, I still do, even though she put Ash and I through hell. She didn’t deserve to suffer for so long. She didn’t deserve to die, not the way she did.
A knock at the bathroom door brings me out of my daze and back into the present. I had been zoned out so long that my body had air dried. The only thing that was still damp was my hair. “Um Blaze? Are you okay in there?” The hesitance in my older brother’s normally cocky voice makes me wince. I pull on a shirt, making sure it covers the only remaining physical reminder left of that night. Then I slip on my jeans, opening the door to face Ash, trying my best to hide the guilt that tears at me from the inside.
Ash is the one who found me that night. To this day, I still don’t know to what extent my decision affected him. All I know is that I hurt him. I tried to leave him the same way that mom left us. I let my pain take control. I gave into Death and I will never forgive myself for what it did to Ash. I push past him, my eyes glued to the floor so he doesn’t see the tears pooling in my eyes. “Will you be ready in five minutes?” I hear his voice call after me.
If I answer him, he’ll know. My voice will wobble and give away how fragile I really am. So instead I storm into my bedroom, slamming my door shut as an answer.
I’m not really mad at Ash. I’m mad at myself. I just- it’s best he thinks I’m angry with him. I can’t let him get too close again. My fire has already burned him enough. Oh who am I kidding, it scorched the damn boy.
I shake my head, chuckling darkly as I start to get ready. Mauve there’s a reason behind our names after all. Blaze… the girl who destroyed everything and Ash…what remains of the boy who dared to stand too close to the fire.
