I waited all day at school the next day. He never showed.

I went to his house after school�God only knows why, but I did�and though I rang the doorbell ten times, knocked, and yelled, he never answered the door. But he was home. I knew he was, knew in my heart that he was home and had decided to ignore me.

You�re driving him crazy, the nasty voice in my head told me, the same one that told me I was worthless and stupid. That�s all there is to it. Can�t you see that he hates you, and that he doesn�t want to be around you anymore?

Go to hell, I told the voices. This was not my normal Roger�this had gone on too long, this was too scary�something was horridly wrong.

When I came home I called him. I called six times before he picked up.

His voice was breathless, his �Hello?� low and nervous.

�Where the hell were you today? And why didn�t you answer when I came to your house? What the hell is going on?!�

I heard him breathe out of his nose into the receiver. He sounded like someone who had just woken up. �Arik, stop doing this, please.�

�Stop doing what?! Stop checking up on you to make sure you�re still alive? Goddammit, Roger, I�m worried about you!�

He breathed out again, blowing a muffled roar into the receiver. �I don�t want you to worry about me anymore. Please, Arik, just leave me alone. Forget about me. It�s better this way.�

�I don�t want to forget about you! I want to help you!� I gasped.

His voice was dropping lower and lower with every word. �There�s nothing you can do to help. Thank you for trying. Thank you for everything. But it�s all over.�

My hands were shaking. �Roger, what�s going on?�

He breathed into the phone again.

�You�re severely depressed, aren�t you?� I dared, eyes closed, holding my breath because I knew the real answer.

I heard his intake of breath�his breathing shuddered�and then he was crying once more.

�Arik, I don�t want to live anymore,� he gasped, and my entire world fell apart.

I sank to the ground, feeling the carpet of my room spiky under my jeans. My hand had gone to my mouth, and my mind was reeling�my stomach turned inwards on itself.

�I just want to die!� he choked. �I can�t take this anymore, I can�t bear any more of this. I just want everything to end.�

�Jesus Christ,� I whispered, shaking, trembling, the phone slipping from wet palms. My Roger wanted to kill himself. My Roger, my beloved Roger.

�Don�t kill yourself!� I shrieked for I didn�t know what else to say�but it came out a strangled whisper. �Please, Roger, my God, don�t kill yourself!�

�I have no other choice. I can�t take this any longer�and I�m just hurting you! I�m just ruining everyone else�s lives�I don�t deserve to live any longer!�

�I was going to throw up. �Roger, no, no, I want you to live, I want to be with you�if you kill yourself, you�ll only hurt me more!�

He was weeping bitterly, and, I realized suddenly, so was I.

�It�s all I�ve thought about for weeks. I just can�t take this anymore��

�DON�T YOU DARE KILL YOURSELF!� I screamed. �You�re just sick�depression is a disease, too�we can fix it, we can make everything better again!�there are medications and stuff�we can go back to the way it used to be!�

�NO!� he screamed, startling me. �No more fucking medications! I�m so sick of fucking pills, so fucking sick of them!�

�Y-you have been on medication before?� I whispered, confused, stunned.

There was a long, sniffling pause before he would answer. �You have no idea,� he replied cryptically, hopelessly. �You don�t know anything.�

I couldn�t reply�my head was spinning, spiraling, pounding, my chest in a vise, grinding, bleeding�oh, God, oh, God, my Roger�!

When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, sadder. Apologetic. �I�m sorry I involved you in this. I�m not who you think I am. Please, forget about me. I�m going to hang up and��

�Don�t hang up!� I screeched, panicking.

��I won�t pick it up again, so don�t call back. I�m sorry. Goodbye.�

�DON�T HANG UP!�

Click.

I threw the phone down and leapt to my feet�I flew down the stairs and landed hard at the bottom�my mother yelled in surprise and then in irate inquiry�but I paid her no heed�my coat and car keys were in my hand, and I was gone before she could reach me�out the door and in my car and driving�and I didn�t know where to until I got there.

�please, God, don�t let me be too late!

And suddenly I was on Roger�s front steps, shaking on a familiar white wood porch that creaked beneath me, snow and ice slippery under my sneakers, and I was pounding the door with fists that came back red and bruised with every slam against the unyielding boulder of a door. He wasn�t going to answer it, why was I bothering?

I wrenched at the doorknob, trying to break in by force, but it was no use. Thinking fast, breathing faster, I ran to the nearest window. I pulled out the screen, slid down the top section of the window, unlocked the bottom, pushed the top section back up, shoved the bottom up, and climbed into the living room.

�Roger!� I yelled, and was answered only by my voice resounding in the cold, dim emptiness. �Roger, where are you?!�

I flew into the kitchen, wanting desperately to find him�and yet dreading to, horrified of what I might find.

He was sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, his back to me. He was wearing a tank top and some khakis, but nothing more, even though it was very, very cold. I stopped dead in the doorway, all my courage deserting me. His back moved slowly up and down. He was still alive, for the time being.

I flicked the light on, and he turned slightly, his bleary eyes gazing at the shadow I cast across the wall. He sighed resentfully.

�Why the hell are you here?� His voice was otherworldly, and it pinched coldly at my spine.

�Because I don�t want you to die,� I whispered.

He sighed again, but sadly this time. �I told you to forget about me. There�s nothing more than can be done for me�just stop caring about me.�

�I can�t! I love you so much! I can�t just stop caring about you!� I strengthened my voice and added, �I don�t want to�and I�m not going to!�

�How can you possibly love me? You have no idea who I am; you don�t know anything about me. I lied about everything, so how can you possibly know what I really am?�

His voice was so�dead. So monotone, so soft, so heavy with grief.

�Stop saying things like that�they�re not true. They�re not. They�re not!�

He leaned over the table, his head in his hands. �Arik, please leave. You don�t understand.�

�No!� I wailed, panicky. �If I leave you, you�ll�!� The words caught in my throat. �I just want to help you�I just want to make this better!�

�You. CAN�T,� he rumbled.

I stepped forwards. �I can try!�

�YOU CAN�T!� he yelled, his back still to me, his forehead and eyes in his palms.

�WHY NOT?!� I screeched, panicking, it coming out as anger.

�Because you don�t know anything!�

I went quickly to his side and snatched up his wrist. I pulled it away from his face and towards me, forcing him to turn around and face me. �What the hell are you talking ab��

He faced me, and I stopped mid-sentence.

And screamed.

I dropped his wrist and skittered back, hands over my mouth, horrified.

He was covered in cuts and gashes. Every inch of skin from his wrists to his neck was red, littered with slits of all shapes and sizes, some old ones dark and fading, recent ones red and puffy�new ones still bleeding thin crimson trails down his arms. There was blood on his khakis and on his white tank top. There was a cooking knife on the table, and the edge was red.

I turned and retched violently into the sink.

The five marks I�d noticed the night he passed out�now I knew what they were.

The band-aids on the backs of his hands, the red dots he created during class, why he only wore long-sleeves now�

Oh, God, now I knew.

I leaned over the sink, my legs jittering. My stomach churned and heaved, but there was nothing left in it. Roger stood and watched me sullenly. Blood dripped slowly down his arm.

I forced myself to look again, supporting myself completely on my elbows.

It was hideous. So, so many red lines, too orderly to be accidental. Not accidental. Not accidental.

�You had no idea I cut, did you?� came a voice from the horrendous red body.

�How could you?� I gasped. �Wh-why would you?! Why would you do that to yourself?!�

�It helps, sometimes. And I deserve it, anyway,� he murmured, his eyes not focusing.

�How can that possibly help?!�

�I don�t do it right, though,� he continued, completely disregarding my question. �See, other people, they do it good. They�re deep, they have reasons, sometimes they make designs. But me, no, I don�t even do it right. I don�t do anything right.� He picked the knife off the table. �No, I don�t have any design, I just take it�� he set the knife across the underside of his forearm.

�ROGER, DON�T!� I shrieked.

��and I press it until it bleeds.� He ran the blade across his skin fast, and blood appeared, a deep red pool in the shape of the inch-and-a-half long line he�d just slit. I covered my mouth with my hand, unable to tear my eyes from the lazy spurting of blood.

�It�s ugly, isn�t it? I wish I didn�t fuck it up so that it wasn�t so ugly.�

�Why?!� I gasped. How could anyone mutilate themselves like that?

�See all these?� He held his arm out and traced the skin high up on the underside, the five marks I�d noticed at the party. �I did these after Marisa dumped me. I hadn�t done it in a long, long time. But I was mad, you know? I wanted to take the knife and stick it in her! Wouldn�t you love to see her all cut up like me? Wouldn�t she be disgusting? I would do it to her, make her see how it feels�what it�s like to be ugly and hateful. Wouldn�t you love to see that!�

I stared, hand over my mouth, skin crawling. Something in his eyes made my legs shake�or, rather, a lack of something in his eyes. They weren�t focusing, weren�t looking at anything. Just cloudy, round, dark eyes rolling in a head that lolled on bony shoulders.

�That was just the beginning though. Didn�t want to do it much. I was afraid someone would find out. What if someone found out? I�d be in deep shit. Cutters are weird, you know. I�d be in deep shit.�

He was talking the same riddling nonsense he did when he was drunk.

Only he wasn�t drunk now.

�But when my dad died,� he continued, his blank expression darkening, �when I killed him�I lost control, you know? I wanted to die then, but that�d be kind of mean to my mom, don�t you think? So I did this instead.� Slowly, he curled up the bottom of the dingy tank top. He rolled it up to his armpits.

His stomach was as much a battlefield as his arms. Red lines, red Xs, horrid tic-tac-toes across his abdomen. Inch-longs, two-inchers. Tally marks ringing his ribs. I could see his ribs now, all of them. His beautiful, shapely muscles had flattened out since I�d last seen him shirtless�in fact, he seemed to have lost at least ten pounds�probably more. He was so skinny! �but of course he was. When was the last time I�d seen him eat anything?

So many horrible red marks!

He was talking to me, but I couldn�t listen. Oh, hell, I was going to throw up again. Oh, hell�!

�Usually I used knives. I�m too stupid to figure out any of the other ways��

�STOP IT!� I screamed. I forced my eyes shut and clenched my stomach in my fists. �Please, just STOP! I-I don�t want to hear this!�

His eyes focused, and a malicious gleam came into them. He glared at me. �Bitch,� he snapped. �Why don�t you just leave? What do you care?� I didn�t answer, and he scowled at me. He gripped the knife with both hands and held it flat against his chest.

�Roger, put that down!� I ordered, unnerved by the passionate, protective way he held it.

He lifted the knife higher, to his collarbone. Slowly, slowly, eying me all the way, he lifted it to his neck.

�PUT IT DOWN!� I screamed.

He slid the blade of the knife along his neck, and a thin trail of dark red popped behind it.

I lunged for the knife�I seized his wrist and yanked it away from his throat. He hollered and kicked at my shins, but I refused to let go of his wrist.

�ROGER, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!� I screeched, pulling his wrist back with all the strength I could muster.

�LET GO!� he yelled. He lifted his foot to my chest and kicked me back into the wall. I hit hard, my fingers flying from the knife�s handle. Stunned and breathless, I faltered�couldn�t react in time�and he rushed me, punching me hard across the face. I sank down, my vision exploding into red and black stars�he grabbed my shirt and wrenched me back up to his level.

�Stop, please�!� I begged, senses swirling black.

I felt hard metal against my neck�sharp pain zapped around my throat�I screamed.

�ROGER, STOP, PLEASE!� I wailed�I grabbed at his wrist, but the knife pressed harder, harder�blood trickled down my neck, pain snapped across my skin�! I burst into wild, violent, shuddering sobs, but he was yelling over my screams�so scared, so scared!��DON�T KILL ME, PLEASE�ROGER, IT�S ME! IT�S ME!�

And the knife left my skin. I heard it drop to the ground, clang bang, and lie motionless. Suddenly the hands clutching me vaporized, and I collapsed, panting hard. I wrapped my hand around my neck, and when I looked at it again, it was stained red. I stared at it for a very long time, seeing red and peach blurred together through my tears.

And I couldn�t believe he had tried to kill me.

Roger was shrieking uncontrollably. He�d recoiled back and was staring at me with huge, huge black and red eyes, both hands over his mouth�staring at me in utter horror.

He let out a shrieky wail and stumbled backwards�he fell to his butt and scuttled backwards away from me, shrieking and wailing, until he hit the cabinet and couldn�t go any further. He covered his grotesque red face in his hands and cried. He rocked and rocked until he collapsed forwards and curled into fetal position, his entire body shuddering with each wretched howl.

I watched him for a long time, my heart still pounding. I held my neck until it stopped bleeding. It wasn�t a deep cut�I�d be fine. Roger was another story. Jesus Christ, what had happened to him?! He�d lost it, he�d totally and completely lost it. I watched his curved narrow back tremble, and I cried unceasingly. It was awful to behold�the man I loved most, so tormented, so frightening, so sick.

�I�m sorry,� came a strangled whisper. �Arik, I didn�t mean to do that, I�m so sorry�I don�t know what�s happening!�

Slowly, I stood up, seizing the knife from the floor. I laid it silently into a drawer and shut it, lest he find it again. And then, apprehensively, I walked to him.

I knelt close by his side and stroked his arm. At my touch, he let out a loud, shuddering sob.

�I�m so scared! I don�t know what to do�I-I think I�m losing my mind!� he gasped.

I leaned against him, whispering, �Shh, shhh��

In a few minutes, he calmed down enough to sit up, and he immediately buried himself against me, his arms tight around my waist.

�Arik, I don�t want to kill you, I�m sorry, I�m sorry, I don�t want you to die�I love you! I love you so much�I don�t want to kill you!�

�You need help,� I whispered back, stroking his hair, my chin against his forehead. �You�re very, very sick, but you can get help. It�ll be okay, it�ll be okay.�

�Noo,� he lamented. �Nothing can help me, nothing�s ever been able to help me�I just need to die�I want to die!�

I held him tighter, clenching my eyes together so as not to allow more tears. �You�re not going to die, Roger, I won�t let you.� I picked up his limp hand and kissed the joints of all of the fingers. And it was a sad fact that I knew he was too far gone to remember that most boys didn�t kiss each other like that. �I love you too much to let you die.�

He leaned close against me, breathing hard, tears routinely sailing down glittering cheeks. For a long, long time we stayed like that. I held him tight and stroked him and kissed him, telling him comforting things as much to soothe his pounding heart as my own.

�You�re going to be okay, honey. You�ve had to deal with this all by yourself, but you�re not alone anymore. Your mother and I, we�re going to make you better. When does your mother get home?�

He took a deep breath. �N-not until three a.m.�

I briefly lifted my hand from his shoulder to check my watch. It was 9 o�clock, or close enough. Jesus, I thought. I put my hand back on his sweaty shoulder. His head had shifted under my chin.

�Roger, when your mom gets home, I�m going to talk to her. She needs to know about all this.�

He let out a loud sob.

�She has to know, honey, I have to tell her,� I whispered. �This is very serious.�

�Why can�t I just die?�

It was a long time before I could answer. �Because you can�t.�

He didn�t say anything more, and for another half hour or so, we held each other, gently swaying to the rhythm of our erratic breathing.

And I kept thinking over and over, what the hell am I going to do?

I needed to get him help�I couldn�t handle this by myself. I was doing everything I could�but would that be enough to keep my best friend alive? This was serious. So, so serious.

I couldn�t remember ever being so scared in all my life.

I watched his eyelids droop lower and lower. Sometimes he closed them, but I could tell from his breathing that he was still awake. The most recent cut on his arm clotted and stopped bleeding. The crimson trail down his arm crusted dark brown.

Slowly, slowly, I began to pull away from Roger. We�d been so close for so long that I felt strangely light and cold away from him. His childlike eyes looked at me with anxiety as I inched backwards. He didn�t like being let go. He needed to be touched, needed to be reminded that I was still there.

I reached out and took both his hands in mine. �Honey, why don�t you go to your room and try to sleep, okay? You look very tired, and you�ll be more comfortable.�

�Are you leaving?!� he gasped, eyes round in instant terror.

I stroked his cheek. �No, no, no, of course not!� I stood up and slowly helped him to his feet. It was wrong for him to be so much taller than me, especially now. �I�ll stay with you, I promise.� I took his hand in mine and lead him to his room.

Not until later did it dawn on me the sick, sick irony of all this.

He wouldn�t move on his own, so I prodded him gently up the stairs and into his bedroom. The bed was unmade, and after he laid down in it, I pulled the sheets neatly over him.

�Wh-what are you doing?� he whimpered, staring up at me, and he looked so much like a child that my voice went soft and soothing of its own accord.

�Try to sleep, okay? Everything looks better in the morning.�

His hands shot out from under the covers and snatched up mine. �Arik, don�t leave me! Don�t leave!� he shrieked.

I sat down on the edge of his bed. �I won�t, honey, I won�t, shh!�

He curled to his side and erupted into new sobs. �Don�t leave!�

Slowly, I lowered myself over him, supporting myself on the elbow of one arm, and clenching his hand in the other. �I won�t, I won�t�Now, you try to sleep, and I�ll stay right here.�

He sniffled, and gradually his sobs quieted. Still, he shivered, and occasionally his wretched form gave a shuddering jolt. Leaning in the position I was in was hell on my back and waist, so I tentatively leaned further and further over until I was horizontal beside him, my arm around him and my face against the back of his head. With my warmth against him, he stopped shivering.

�Shh,� I whispered. I kissed the back of his head. �It�s going to be okay, shh��

At any other time, this situation, this strange, strange situation, would have felt completely different. After all, wasn�t this what I had always fantasized about? My Roger, in my arms, so close to me, so affectionate! But there was nothing sexual about this, nothing whatsoever. Indeed, I didn�t even realize the irony until many hours later�no such thoughts had even entered my mind, and I swear my life on that. This was not the time or place for frivolous, selfish thoughts.

My Roger was in my arms because if I let go of him, he would die.

�Shh,� I whispered, kissing him lightly again and again, comforting him as I did Harry when he crawled into my bed weeping after hideous nightmares. �Go to sleep, Roger, it�ll be okay� You�ll be okay��

After a while, his breathing slowed greatly and became regular, and I knew him to be asleep. �Roger,� I whispered softly, to be sure, but he was truly asleep. I closed my eyes, which were burning from crying, and sighed. At least whilst he slept he wouldn�t suffer.

Slowly, gently, so as not to disturb him, I inched away from the narrow curve of his back and dragged myself vertical again. Roger gave a soft moan and rolled to his back, but remained asleep. I sat on the side of his bed and rubbed at my eyes and face. My head was pounding, and every joint of my body ached with weariness. I envied his apparently peaceful slumber, hard-won as it was. I felt wrung out, like a dishrag.

I watched his pale, silent form, and I sighed. I bit the knuckle of my finger and began to pray every prayer I�d ever learned, in every language I could. When I ran out, I made up my own, screaming out desperate pleas inside my head for God�s help�for I had no where else to turn. I felt my small silver cross against my chest, the cross I�d gotten from my grandparents for my First Communion years and years ago and had worn every day of my life. I�d called on it often lately. Everyone said God hated faggots, but I dearly hoped He still listened to faggots� prayers.

Now that I was looking closely, I could see small splotches of dark red scattered here and there across the light green bedspread. And I couldn�t help glancing at the long thin arm he�d thrown out across the bed. He looked like he�d been thrown through a glass window; he had not spared an inch of skin in his ruthless attack.

How many nights had he sat cross-legged on his bed, the door locked, his teeth gritted, sliding a knife back and forth across his arms? I wondered if he cried while he did it, or what he thought about. I wondered why he had decided to take up destroying himself. Was it only to delay the desire to slice the lifelines that blazed blue beneath the strap of his watch�or to practice for when he finally�?

I grabbed at my hair and gritted my teeth, my heart thundering in my chest, my breathing fast. I needed to scream, but I didn�t dare wake him up. I needed to scream and scream and tear out all my hair and cry until my Roger was back to normal. What the hell was I going to?!

And why hadn�t I realized before? I�d known he was depressed for weeks, only I hadn�t admitted it to myself. I�d known he was depressed, but not Depressed�not suicidal, not self-destructive. He hadn�t been right since his father�s death�or since Marisa had broken up with him, really. Had he been this way for longer than I knew, only he�d hidden it from me and drowned it in alcohol?

Freaking hell.

I stood up and leaned over him. Delicately, I watched his upturned white face, the only part of his body he�d left untouched. Shiny black hair straggled across his forehead, longish and untidy, and a light blue shadow dusted his chin and upper lip. Unusual for him, who was always clean-shaven and sharp-looking, always so respectable and neat and terribly handsome.

I whispered his name again. He was still asleep. I lightly set my palms down around him and slowly lowered myself over him.

And I kissed him, firmly but gently, on his still lips.

Once, twice. His lips felt as soft as I�d always imagined them to be.

�I love you,� I whispered, so that his subconscious would know, so that it would never forget. �I love you more than anyone or anything in the entire world. More than life itself.�

I kissed him on the forehead, pulled his covers higher around him, and ran from the room.

I was crying again�had I ever stopped?�but I rubbed my eyes hard as I ran, for I couldn�t very well drive if I was crying too hard to see. And driving, I was. I was back in my car, and I was driving�I�d left him.

I can�t explain my actions. I�ll never understand what I did, or why�and only later would I be able to look back on them and regret what I did.

I should never have left him, but I was on the verge of a breakdown�I knew what I was going to do, but my mind was screaming, Go home, go home! I had nowhere else to go�so I went home.

My parents were on me like vultures the instant I exploded through the door.

�Where the hell have you been?!� my mother screeched, for I�d blown her off hours earlier when I�d raced out without an explanation.

I wrenched away from her and Dad and ran to the phone. �What�s the number for the hospital?!� I yelled.

Mum�s eyes went huge, and she shrieked, �What�s the matter?!�

�What�s the number?!� I repeated.

�911?� Dad offered, suddenly at my side with the same dinner-plate blue eyes as Mum.

�No, the normal number!�

Dad ran to the cabinet and ripped a sheet of numbers off the back of it. �It�s the second one from the top,� he said as I snatched it from him.

I misdialed and had to steady my hand before trying again. It rang once and was picked up by a secretary with a nasal voice.

�I-I need to speak with Mrs. Julie O�Donnell�� at the sound of Roger�s last name, my mother�s hand flew to her mouth��She�s a nurse�she�s on duty tonight�please, it�s an emergency.�

The secretary sounded flustered, and she hurried to find Mrs. O�Donnell. Page her, or whatever the nurse network did. In what couldn�t have been more than three minutes, but felt like an eternity, Mrs. O�Donnell�s pleasant voice came on. �Roger?� she asked, for who else would call her now?

My throat constricted. �N-no,� I choked out, �It�s Arik.�

�What�s wrong?!� she demanded, her voice instantly high and breathless.

�I-it�s Roger�h-he�s, he�s�.Mrs. O�Donnell, you need to come home now!�

�What happened?!� she shrieked. �Is he okay?!�

Shit, I was losing it. Tears were sailing unchecked down my cheeks again, and I could not hold my voice steady. My parents were standing several feet back, watching me with huge eyes and deathly pale faces. �No he�s not,� I sobbed. �He-he-he wants to kill himself.�

My mother gasped.

�He�s severely depressed�he has been for awhile�he hasn�t been coming to school and he doesn�t eat anymore�and, and�� I let out another loud sob. �And he cuts himself. A lot.�

�Jesus Christ,� my mother moaned, closing her eyes, crying now. My father simply stared.

I took two shuddering breaths before I could hear Mrs. O�Donnell�s own heavy breathing at the other end. This was wrong�she was such a nice lady; it was so hard to tell her these awful things. This was so wrong. This shouldn�t be happening. I kept thinking that, over and over and over.

�Where are you now�what�s going on?� she asked breathlessly, obviously trying to control her own emotions.

�I�m at my house. I-I was just at yours, with him. I was with him for a few hours, but he�s asleep now. I stayed until he fell asleep.�

I heard her breathe in and out again, and in my mind�s eye I saw her weeping silently, blue scrubs and red hair against the stark white tile of the hospital. �What did he say to you?�

�He didn�t go to school today, so I called him and� He said he didn�t want to live anymore, that he can�t take it anymore, that he wanted to die��

My mother had opened her eyes. Her hand still over her mouth, she shook her head slowly, back and forth, back and forth.

�He-he hung up on me, so I went to your house�I broke in through a window�s-sorry�and I talked to him for awhile. He kept saying that-that he wanted to die, and I kept telling him he couldn�t and that I wouldn�t let him and that I�d help him and�� I was crying too hard to speak.

�I�m leaving the hospital now,� Mrs. O�Donnell said. Her voice was so thin and soft I had to strain to hear her. �Your mother has my cell-phone number. I should be there in forty minutes�I just hope I can get around those Holden detours quickly. I-I�ll take care of him.�

�I�ll go back to your house,� I vowed. �I�ll watch out for him until you get there�I�m so scared that if he wakes up alone he�ll� I don�t know what else to do�I�m so scared!�

�You�ve done more than I ever could have asked. Thank you, Arik. Thank you so much for calling me�Thank God for you.� And she hung up.

The phone dropped from my sweaty palms, and I collapsed against the counter. My mother came to me and embraced me. To have someone comforting me after spending so many hours comforting Roger was too much, and I burst into sobs. Mum rubbed my back and rocked me gently back and forth.

�I know, honey, I know,� she whispered. �But it�ll be okay. You did everything right, you did all the right things. Roger�s very sick, but Mrs. O�Donnell will take care of him. She knows what to do. She knows what to do.�

Suddenly my mother pulled away with a gasp, and her small pudgy hand flew to my neck. �My God! Arik, what happened?! You have an awful gash across your neck!�

I stared like a deer in the headlights, far too emotionally unstable to slip an easy lie the way I usually could. I opened my mouth, waiting for a lie to appear�after all, how could I tell them Roger had tried to slit my throat?�but none came.

�What happened to your neck?!� Mum demanded.

�Roger did that, didn�t he?� Dad declared gravely.

I cast my eyes down.

�JesusMaryandJoseph,� Mum breathed.

�He-he was hurting himself, so I tried to grab the knife away, a-and he got mad at me and�� I tried to explain. I stopped there. What was the use of going further?

�You are not going back there,� Mum declared.

My head snapped back up. �But I have to!�

�You will NOT go back to that house! I will not have you endanger yourself!�

�If I don�t take care of him he�s going to die!� I screeched, distraught. �Mum, it�s Roger! He�s my best friend! He�s my best friend!�

Mum took a deep breath. �Arik, Roger is a very, very sick young man. And it�s obvious that he�s extremely dangerous as well. He could have killed you! I know how much you care about him�and how much he cares about you�but you have to understand that right now he�s not right in the mind.� She took both my hands in hers, and her tone turned softer. �You did everything you could, honey�much more than most people would have done. But now there�s nothing more you can do. He�s in his mother�s hands now, and she knows how to take care of him.�

�Why don�t you get some rest, Arik?� Dad suggested, and he was using the same voice I�d used on Roger. �You look dead-tired.�

He was right�every bone and muscle in my body ached with fatigue. Sleep, the glorious black escape, sounded like absolute bliss right now. But how could I?�I had to get back to Roger. Every second I wasn�t beside him I feared for his life.

�Okay,� I submitted. �Okay.�

My parents hugged me and told me they loved me, and I went upstairs to my room.

�And I fully intended to sneak back to Roger�s the instant they went back to their own room.

But for the moment, I sprawled atop my bed and sighed. And prayed. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy�

But I couldn�t concentrate enough to remember the rest. I kept seeing Roger�s slashed arms in front of my eyes.

Just help him. Please. Amen.

My eyes were on fire from crying steadily for hours. I needed to close my eyes, rest them for just a few blessed moments. I was absolutely bone-weary and feeling sick to my stomach�but I could not let myself fall asleep.

I closed my eyes, and the soft darkness was the nearest thing to heaven I�d encountered for many days. So long as I didn�t fall asleep. So long as I don�t fall asleep. So long as I don�t�

Chapter Twenty-seven...