Chapter 5

Dawn spun around her room elated. She's just gotten off the phone with Eric. They'd been officially dating for two weeks now, and she thought he was the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. Since she and David split up life had not been easy. Dawn was not used to being alone, and loneliness, to her was a fate worse than death. She and David had barely been apart a week when Taylor had to go away, so she was left to comfort herself.

She never thought she could fall in love again so Eric came as a total surprise. Of course, she wasn't in love with him, after all they hadn't know each other long, but she knew she could fall in love with him, and that was an accomplishment. He was a very sweet guy. He was urbane and funny, and more intelligent (and attractive) than almost all of the guys she knew. He lived for roller hockey. It was a passion of his and when he was playing it he was in an altered state. It was his nirvana. His musical tastes were entirely different from hers; he worshiped old heavy metal and hard rock type bands, most of which she'd never even heard of, let alone listened to, but he was open-minded about music (and most everything else) and never called anything bad.

In a lot of ways, Eric reminded Dawn of Taylor, which was probably why she liked him so much. She and Taylor had been friends longer than she could remember, and best friends only slightly less than that and she couldn't remember a time she didn't love him. When they were children, she had her schoolgirl crush on him. Who wouldn't? He was the perfect boy-next-door. She grew out of that though, and went straight into the "boys have cooties" stage of her life. Once that was over though, she had to fight thoughts of how wonderful he was out of her head. All her girl friends told her she must be insane not to be dating him, but she knew that kind of relationship wasn't meant for them. Besides, she had Eric now, and she looked forward to being with him.

Taylor, on the other hand, was withdrawing from relationships. He made it clear that he thought Eric's friend Jessica was a very nice girl, but their relationship came to an end the moment he dropped her back at her house. He didn't ask to see her again. He didn't ask for her number, and he didn't try to kiss her goodnight.

Dawn worried about him. He changed a lot lately. He lacked a lot of the beautiful confidence he used to have. He didn't go out much, and he had almost stopped speaking to a lot of his friends. She knew something was wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was and she knew that whatever it was, he didn't want to talk about it; and she had a feeling it was something ugly.

Taylor stepped out of the shower and looked into the foggy mirror. He had gotten out of hand with the cutting. His stomach boasted five angry red lines, violent in contrast to the clean smoothness of his skin. The cut he'd made that night in the restaurant was almost healed, but last night he was looking at himself in the mirror, and he couldn't believe how fat he looked. The knife was too convenient. It was right on his desk. He didn't want to pick it up, and he railed against it as best he could, but pain triumphed over morality in the end. His morals had only a small victory, instead of making a new cut; he reopened the first one.

Truth be known, part of Taylor hated the mutilation, but the pain could not escape his body fast enough. He vomited a lot now, sometimes after only drinking a glass of water, and sometimes without even sticking his fingers down his throat. He had dizzy spells sometimes, and as they days wore on they became more frequent. His knuckles were red and raw. He just wanted this nightmare to end, but he wasn't any closer to his goal than when he started. He tried exercising, but most of the time he was too wiped out to do anything that mattered; by the time he'd get to one hundred an fifty or so crunches he was too tired to do anymore. Dawn saw more of Eric than she saw of him, and he hadn't written a decent song in weeks. All of this was too hard on his soul, and he needed some release for his pain. He couldn't talk it out, write it out, or cry it out, so he had no other choice; he had to cut it out.

His family was yet to catch on to him. After meals, he�d lock himself in the bathroom and turn the faucet on full blast so that one outside the bathroom couldn�t here his desperate gagging sounds. He�d throw open the window to let the smell escape the room and spend 15 minutes brushing his teeth and downing mouthwash. It was probably paranoia, but he felt he always smelled of vomit. No one ever mentioned it though, so it probably wasn�t true, but he could never be too sure.

�Taylor!� Zac said suddenly knocking on the door, �Are you almost through?�

�In more ways than one,� he thought, but said aloud, �Yeah Zac, I�ll be out in a second.�

�Alright. Dawn called. She said please call her back ASAP.�

�Thanks.�

Taylor yanked the black tee shirt on over his head. He couldn�t wear thin, light colored shirts anymore because the cuts were easy to see through the material. He hated sleeping in black tee shirts too. Enough oh his life was black, he didn�t think his dreams should be too.

�How are you feeling Tay?� Dawn asked when he called back, three hours later.

�Fine.�

�You don�t sound fine.�

�How do you know what fine is supposed to sound like?� he mumbled.

�Because, when you�re fine, you are usually more chipper than this.�

�Well, it�s quite possible to be fine and not be bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm.�

Dawn sighed, �I�m just asking because I�m concerned. You haven�t been yourself lately.�

�I�m fine Dawn. Besides, you haven�t been with me enough lately to know what myself is.�

�What are you saying?� she asked softly.

�I�m saying that before you go making judgement calls about me, spend a little time with me,� he answered, �You�ve spent so much time with Eric lately that I am not sure you�d still recognize me if you saw me.�

�Let me tell you something Jordan Taylor Hanson, I haven�t been able to recognize you since you came back to Tulsa! You�ve blown off a lot of your friends, you�re almost entirely anti-social, you�ve become really cynical, and you�re hiding something, I�m not sure what it is, but you are definitely hiding something,� she said scornfully.

Taylor felt his heart begin to race. She couldn�t know, could she? There was no way she could know the hundred times he�d spent with his head over the toilet? There was no way to tell that! She couldn�t know that he was experimenting with pain and mutilation more and more frequently. He knew he was hiding it! He knew he was hiding it well and that no one knew what he was doing. She had to be lying. She was just looking for an excuse for her behavior; she just had to be.

�That�s not true, and you know it! You�re just looking for anyway out of owning up to what you�ve done!� he spat.

�Taylor, I�m you�re best friend, if I hurt you I�d be the first one to apologize. I just want to help you.�

�Well I don�t need your help.�

�Fine,� she scowled.

�Yeah, damn fine,� he said quietly slamming the phone down.

Dawn stared at the receiver in disbelief. She and Taylor never fought. Of course they had disagreements, but he never sounded so angry. Especially when she was only trying to help him. Was it her fault he was turning into an anti-social oddball? No, but yet she wanted to help him with whatever was bothering him, but he acted like she had done something wrong.

Suddenly she felt the tears well in her eyes. She hated fighting with anyone, especially someone she loved so much. Especially over Eric. You were never supposed to let a relationship come between you and your best friend, and maybe he was right, maybe that�s what she had been doing. She really needed someone to talk to, but the only person she had wasn�t speaking to her, so as much as her head told her no, she called Eric.

�Dawnee, what�s up?� he asked once he came on the line.

�Nothing, I didn�t really mean to call again, but�I just had a fight with Taylor and I needed someone to talk to.�

�What did you fight about?�

Dawn didn�t want to tell him that they fought about him. She didn�t want him to feel responsible for their problems, �I don�t know�I just told him I was worried about him, because he�s changed so much, and he said that I wouldn�t know if he�s changed because I am not there for him.�

�How has he changed?�

�Well�you didn�t know him before, but he used to be one of the lightest people on the planet. He smiled so much that you would assume his face should�ve cracked years ago. He was friendly, and funny�� she sighed, �You�ve seen him now, he�s so dark��

�The only thing I can think to tell you Dawn is that people go through a lot of things in life. Maybe it�s just a phase he�ll grow out of.�

Dawn felt the fear beat in her heart, �I know it could be nothing, but the fact that it could be something scares me a lot. People do a lot of stupid things when they�re depressed, and my worst fear is that he is doing one of those stupid things.�

�Do you suspect something?� Eric asked quietly.

Dawn heard the accusation in her mind. It laid on her tongue and fought to stay inside because once it came out, there was no taking it back, and it was real �Maybe�I�m not sure or anything, and I have no proof other than a gut feeling, so I could most certainly be wrong, and I am wrong, but,�

�Dawn,� he interrupted, �Just say it.�

�I don�t think he�s eating. Since he�s come home, I can�t remember seeing him eat more than a few times, � she said and felt her tears stream down her cheeks, �But that�s not the worst part. The few times I�ve seen him eat anything, he spends a lot of time in the bathroom afterwards��

�You think he�s bulimic?� he asked and Dawn began to sob.

�Oh God don�t say that!�

�Dawn, honey, calm down, it�s only a word. It�s just a word, and saying the word can�t do anything to him,� he whispered, �Are you sure?�

�No,� she swallowed hard, �Not really.�

�Well, if he is, he needs help, but before he can get help, you have to be sure about it.�

�How am I supposed to tell?�

Eric sighed, �Next time you�re with him, force him to eat, he probably won�t fight you. If after he eats he goes to the bathroom, go and listen at the door, and see if you can hear him�um, purging.�

�We�re fighting remember? How am I supposed to do that if he won�t speak to me?�

�I don�t know Dawn,� he said, �I just don�t know.�

Taylor�s tears cascaded down his cheeks. He couldn�t believe what he�d done. He just lost the only thing that meant anything to him anymore all because of a stupid argument. He didn�t mean to say those things he said the words just ran from his mind past his lips before he knew what he was saying.

He took the razor and dragged it slowly across his stomach, reopening old cuts and creating new ones. Blood seeped through his skin and dripped down his stomach, staining the waistband of his pants. Taylor saw the crimson soaking his jeans, but he couldn�t stop. He stripped of his shirt and dragged the blade across his shoulders just because the skin was so pure and untouched like new fallen snow. His shoulders became bloody quickly, and blood streamed from the new wounds on his shoulders in little rivers on to his chest.

He was just about to make another cut when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His whole upper body glistened scarlet; his pale skin suddenly painted with unnatural blush. He actually felt fear. Fear and dizziness. He wasn�t sure if he was dizzy from losing blood, or dizzy from losing reality, but after seeing his bloodied form in the mirror he didn�t want to cut anymore. At least not tonight.

He grabbed a dark colored towel from under his bed. A towel already stained with blood from past endeavors. He wiped the crimson stain from his stomach, but more surfaced. The next few minutes seemed like hours, while he waited for bleeding to stop. He never bandaged these cuts, but this time he didn�t think it was a good idea to leave them exposed. He quickly pulled his shirt on and ran to the bathroom, grabbed some gauze and hydrogen peroxide. He cleaned the cuts and his whole body felt the stinging feeling of hydrogen and oxygen atoms dissolving the sins on the surface of his skin.

He stared again into the mirror and his previously blood-soaked body was now clean, but covered in scarlet slashes that would too soon become scars. He wrapped his stomach and upper arms in gauze, hoping to hide the wounds not only from human eyes, but from his mind. He wanted to forget; he�d do anything now, just to forget.

Suddenly, he remembered the bottle of Jack Daniels in the back of his closet.