Zariah didn't plan to skip school. She just couldn't move.
She sat on her bed in the same clothes from yesterday, knees tucked under her chin, staring at the wall like it might swallow her whole. Her phone buzzed once. Then again. Jasmine. Probably wondering where she was. Probably worried.
She didn't answer.
Her chest felt like a stone had settled in the middle of it—too heavy to lift, too dense to ignore. Her mind kept spinning, whispering things she didn't want to hear but couldn't shut out.
Why are you still here?
Everyone's tired of you.
You're just wasting space.
She didn't cry. Not this time. She was past crying.
By the time the front door slammed—her mom rushing off to work again without checking on her—Zariah was already halfway down the hall, blade clenched in her palm like it belonged there. Her hands shook, but her heart didn't race anymore. It just thudded, slow and steady, like it didn't even care what she did next.
She locked the bathroom door behind her.
Sat on the cold tile.
Rolled up her sleeve.
The first cut was shallow. Like a warning.
The second wasn't.
She didn't flinch. Didn't wince. Didn't feel it.
And that's what scared her most.
She didn't even feel it.
The blood was warm. It curled around her wrist like a secret, dark and quiet. Zariah stared at it, watching it drip into the sink. She didn't know how long she stood there. The mirror blurred. Her breathing slowed.
Then there was banging at the front door.
Panic jolted through her.
"Zariah?" Jasmine's voice. "Zariah, open up. I know you're home."
Zariah froze.
Jasmine's voice rose—urgent, frantic. "Please—please don't do anything stupid. Just open the door. Please."
Zariah wiped her wrist quickly, heart pounding now. She moved like a ghost, unlocking the front door and stepping back as Jasmine barreled in, eyes wild, face pale.
Jasmine saw the blood first.
She didn't scream.
She just moved.
Grabbed Zariah's arms, yanked her into a hug so tight it knocked the air from her lungs. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no. Not again."
Zariah didn't fight her. She didn't hug back.
She just stood there, numb in Jasmine's arms.
"I'm not telling anyone," Jasmine whispered. "I should. I really should. But I won't. Just please… don't make me lose you."
Zariah didn't respond.
She didn't trust herself to.
Because deep down… she wasn't sure she'd be around much longer.