I woke up with a start, sitting up in bed. I sat there in my oversized shirt ad whie underwear, listening close to the sounds of the empty house. I waited a few minutes then lay back down, letting my muscles relax. I drifted off to sleep, not quite shaking off the feeling that someone else was in the house When I woke u a couple of hours later, he was standing there. I blinked at him, perplexed, wondering if this was just something m weary mind had imagined. He sat down on the edge of my bed, the springs squealing under his weight. We regarded each other in the darkness of the room, unsure of what to do. I had spent sleepless nights wondering what you were doing, hoping he'd clamber through my window and kiss me like he used to. It had been a rough couple of months after you had decided that I was "too much to handle", as you so kindly put it, and left. It wasn't like he had just stopped calling, he literally disappeared. One sunny afternoon, I stopped by his apartment to drop off a box of T-shirts, DVDs, magazines and other random things he had left at my house. His landlord told me that you had left suddenly and was surprised that I didn't know where you had gone. Yeah, I was surprised too. I think it was soon after I had heard that he was gone that I fell into a downward spiral. I kept convincing myself that if I did things I normally wouldn't do, he'd come back. I stopped eating, telling myself that if I were skinnier and prettier, he'd come back. I took out my pain on my skin with the aid of my trusty razor hidden inside my old yearbooks. I did everything I could have done to have make him come back, to show him how wrecked I was without him. He never came. Which is why the image of his skinny body on my bed sent my thoughts into a turmoil. Without saying anything, I scooted over, throwing back the covers, my eyes giving him permission to get in with me, to press his warm body aginst mine, to hold me in his arms. You peeled off your jacked and sweather and then your jeans and rested your body against mine in your striped underwear. We lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling. That's when I heard him crying. I glanced over and he was sobbing, his large hands pressed against his face. I huddled close to his shaking body, attempting to offer some comfort. He pulled me close to his chest and your warm arms enveloped me. I put my hands in your hair and before I even realized it, tears were streaming down my own cheeks. He kept apologizing, his strangled words breaking my already fragile heart. We lay there, our bodies tangled, our tears mixing together. I tiled my chin up and kissed your chin, your stubble tickling me. You kissed my lips slowly then lifted up my arms to kiss the scars that decorated my wrists.

"You're going to be okay, baby. I'm not going anywhere this time," he whispered into my hair.

And this time I knew you really did mean it.

-

Productive history class (?).