Find You In The Dark Part 5

"This makes this crazy orgy all the easier to bear." I said, noting the paired off couples making out around the pool. Rachel laughed and instantly sobered. "How bad was I earlier? On a psycho scale of zero to ten?" I looked over at my friend and saw how worried she was. I reached over and squeezed her hand. "Very low, only like a two or a three. It could have been a lot worse." Rachel sighed in relief. She rolled her head to the side to look at me again. "So what happened to Clay?"

I started to answer her when I was distracted by a noise coming from the pool gate. I big group of kids came through, being led by none other than Clay himself. He had obviously had a lot more to drink since the last time I saw him and was the life of the party. The jocks were joking with him, the girls were flirting. He was the sun of the popularity solar system.

I realized this is how life could easily be for him. With his looks he could be that super popular guy with girls falling at his feet. But instead he had chosen to hang out with me. Not that I was unpopular, but I wasn't to the level Clay could clearly become.

"What is up with him? He's being totally weird." Rachel said as she watched Clay jump into the pool with all of his clothes on. He grabbed the ankle of Lydia Turner, a cheerleader, and yanked her in with him. She screamed as she fell into the water. Coming to the surface, she wrapped her arms around Clay's neck and nuzzled into him.

I looked away, feeling sick. Clay somehow talked a bunch of other kids into jumping in the pool and soon they were horsing around and dunking each other. Daniel and his buddies joined them, while Rachel and I sat on the sidelines, unnoticed by the others.

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold. I did not like this side of Clay. He acted as though he were amped up on amphetamines or something, like the Energizer Bunny. He spoke too loudly, acted erratically, but most of all he just wouldn't stop. The people around him seemed to like this, but his behavior worried me. He was not acting like himself. Not like the boy I had spent almost every day with for the past month. This was not my friend.

"What is he doing?" Rachel gasped from beside me. I had zoned out for a moment and missed Clay getting out of the water. He was currently climbing up a tree that grew beside the pool. He climbed and climbed until he was almost at the top. He was easily twenty feet in the air. Balancing precariously, he edged out until he stood over the water below.

"He is not going to jump into the pool from up there is he?" Rachel asked in horror. I just shook my head, my heart stopped in my chest. He was going to freaking kill himself.

"Dude, that doesn't seem too smart." One of the jocks yelled up at him. You know it had to be dangerous since one of his herd of followers had said something. No one was cheering him on this time. Everyone looked uncomfortable with what Clayton was obviously getting ready to do.

"You bunch of p.u.s.s.ies! This is nothing!" Clay yelled down. He suddenly saw me, as he perched up on the branch. How he picked me out of the crowd and from that height, I have no idea. "Check it out, Mags! I can fly!" I started to stand up and rush over to the tree when he dropped from the branch. I held my breath as his body hurtled toward the pool.

The kids in the water quickly moved off to the side and he slapped onto the surface with a loud clap, dropping straight to the bottom. "f.u.c.king h.e.l.l!" Daniel yelled, diving under the water. Rachel and I hurried to the edge of the pool, peering into the water. I thought I would hyperventilate waiting for Daniel and Clay to surface. Why did he do that? That was just crazy! Not something a normal, sane person would do. I was so scared! What if he was hurt? Or dead?

Those seconds as we waited were the longest of my life. Finally Daniel and Clay surfaced. I could see blood streaming down Clayton's face from a cut at his hair line but other than that he appeared fine. The pair swam to the shallow end and Daniel smacked Clay on the back of the head. "That was a pretty moronic thing to do, Clay. Get it together." Daniel told him angrily and swam away, clearly too p.i.s.sed to say anything more.

No one else approached. Clearly Clay's stunt was too much even for this admiring crowd. Clay climbed up the stairs to where I stood with my arms crossed. His eyes were a bit unfocused and I wondered if he had a concussion.

He grimaced. "Not you too, Maggie. It was nothing." He got out of the pool and went to a chair to grab a towel. I followed him. "You have got to be kidding me. That was totally insane. You could have killed yourself!" I called out. Clay dried his hair, shaking water out of his ears.

He reached up and touched the cut on his forehead and winced. "You might need st.i.tches." I said, inching closer to have a look. Clay let me touch the abrasion. "I'm fine." He said. He suddenly sounded tired. It was like a light switch flipped and now the energetic, over the top boy from fifteen minutes ago was gone. He sat down heavily on the chair and stared blankly ahead of him.

I sat beside him, not sure how to proceed. "Why did you do that? That was really scary." Clay continued to look ahead of him. "Just wanted to know how it felt to fly." He said unemotionally. What? "Clay, I think we should get out of here. You're not yourself tonight. You're being really crazy." I said. Clay snorted as if my words amused him.

"What's so funny?" I asked him. Clay finally looked at me, a strange smirk danced on his lips. "Just an appropriate choice of words." "Huh?" He made no sense, but apparently he thought he was being hysterical because he laughed again, louder this time. And just like that he bounced back up and his mood had lightened.

"You want to leave? Let's go!" He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. He started to pull me through the pool gate. "Hang on a sec, Clay. I need to let Daniel and Rachel know I'm leaving." I tugged on his hand. Clay didn't let go. He looked at me over his shoulder. "They'll figure you left with me. It'll be fine." And like that we were moving quickly through the party, toward the parked cars.

I was so confused by his sudden change in att.i.tude. I thought he was p.i.s.sed at me, but now he wanted to leave the party with me. I didn't know what to think. We stopped in front of his car and he dug in his pockets for his keys. "You're not driving anywhere." I told him. Clay pulled the lining of his pockets out and laughed. He had a strange glint to his eye. "Well I can't anyway, seems I've lost my keys." Clayton shrugged and pulled me in the direction of my car.

"We'll just take yours." Suddenly I wasn't sure I wanted to go anywhere with Clay right now. His behavior was freaking me out. I dug my feet into the dirt and refused to move a step further. My sudden stop pulled Clay up. He turned around to look at me and frowned. "What?" He asked.

"Where are we going? What's going on?" Clay walked toward me and put his arm around my waist. He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I thought you wanted to leave. So that's what we're doing. Let's go to my house. Ruby and Lisa are gone for the weekend." His breath sent tingles down my spine. s.h.i.t, here we go again with the see saw mood swings. Didn't we have this conversation not an hour and a half ago? I leaned into him slightly, Clay laid his lips on the side of my neck and I shivered.

Why did I have to develop a conscience all of a sudden? I pulled away. "We talked about this already, Clay. That isn't going to happen." Clay reared back like I had struck him. "Fine. Whatever. Just take me the f.u.c.k home." He stomped away like a spoiled child and waited by the pa.s.senger side of my car.

I unlocked the doors and Clay climbed in, leaning his wet head against the window, looking like he was about to pa.s.s out. I started the engine and pulled my phone out of the center console. I sent a quick text to Daniel and Rachel, letting them know I left and for Rachel to get a ride with Daniel. And then I pulled out of the field.

Clay was completely silent, except to give me directions to his house. When I pulled up in front of a brick Cape Cod, I put the car into neutral. Before I could say anything, Clayton wrenched open the door, slammed it shut, and bolted to the front door. I couldn't believe he didn't say anything to me. No apology for being a d.i.c.k. No explanation for his whacked out behavior. I knew he was drunk but that didn't excuse the way he was acting.

Maybe I was being supremely stupid, but I turned off the car and followed him into the house. Clay had left the front door wide open, a pair of shoes kicked off just inside the entry way. The house was dark and smelled faintly of Patchouli.

I suddenly heard a crash coming from the second floor. I could see the stairs in front of me, so I slowly made my way up them. I could hear yelling and banging coming from the end of the hallway. What was Clay doing? And did I really want to follow him when it sounded like he was having a one man boxing match in there?

But I couldn't leave things the way they were. I didn't understand why he was angry with me. Why he decided to drink, even after telling me that was a big no no for him. He was a different person tonight and if I was honest with myself, he scared me.

Yet I stupidly ignored the instinct that told me to get the h.e.l.l out of there, and turned the k.n.o.b on what I a.s.sumed was his bedroom door. My mouth fell to my feet as I watched him trash the place. He had pulled over his dresser and clothes lay strewn all over the floor. He had pulled pictures off the wall. And there was a hole the size of a fist in the dry wall. Okay, he was 100% freaking out.

I almost closed the door and left, only wanting to forget about this and the volatile boy who was currently destroying all of his possessions. That would have been the safe and sane thing to do. But if there was anything I had learned since meeting Clayton Reed, was that I didn't feel necessarily sane feelings for him. These insane feelings made me experience things and act in ways that were completely out of character for me. So instead of bolting for the front door, I took a step inside and gently closed the door behind me.

The soft click seemed to break through the destruct-o-thon in progress, and Clay looked up. He seemed surprised to see me. A myriad of emotions appeared to cross his face. Surprise, anger, shame and finally heartbreaking sadness. "Why are you here?" His words were strangled and he put his hands through his hair, standing it on end. "I was worried about you, I couldn't just leave. Clearly I'm needed here." I indicated the mess around us.

And suddenly, Clay crumpled to the floor. He brought his knees to his chest and began to rock. Um. Okay. I had no idea how to handle this reaction from him. Screaming and yelling; I could deal with that. Clay in a near fetal position on the floor as if he were trying to hold himself together...that was something else entirely.

I was really scared. Whatever was going on with this boy was beyond anything I had ever experienced. He needed something greater than I could offer. Yet I stayed. I didn't really have a choice. Again, those insane feelings of mine.

Maybe I was an idiot, or a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I naively subscribed to the foolish notion that my love could save him. Whatever the reason, I entered the room and sank to the carpet beside that sad and broken boy.

I touched his arm and he flinched. "No, Maggie. I don't want you to see me like this." He hid his face in his arms while he continued to rock. His body shook with the force of his sobs. Each guttural noise ripped at my heart and I wanted to gather him to my chest and rock with him.

"I'm not sure what's going on with you. But I'm not going anywhere." I a.s.sured him, speaking softly as though to a wild animal that would run at any moment. I reached out and touched his arm again. This time he didn't pull away. I took that as an encouraging sign so I crawled closer to him. "Clayton, look at me please." I murmured. I gently lifted his face. His eyes were red and blood shot, his cheeks flushed. The cut at his hairline had come open again and a small trickle of blood made its way down his forehead. He seemed to have sobered up a bit; his eyes were less bleary but there was something still there that worried me.

I hesitantly wiped the blood from his face and then left my fingers on his cheek. Clay closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He seemed so tortured. What could be eating him up so? "What's going on with you?" I asked, not entirely sure he'd give me an answer. Clay shook his head. "You should go. I don't wanna drag you into my s.h.i.t. You deserve better than that. Than me." I slid my fingers down until they rested on the side of his neck. We were so close, our breath mingled together, each invading the others' personal s.p.a.ce. But for once, Clayton wasn't pulling away. Instead he seemed to be desperate for my touch, for my contact, and I wanted to give it to him.

"Why don't you let me decide what I deserve. Now, tell me what's going on with you. Obviously you're going through something and I'd like to help if you'd let me." Clay took a shaky breath. "I just wanted to be normal. For once, I wanted to feel normal. Is that so wrong?" He whispered. I had no idea what he was talking about. I gave him a small smile.

"Eh. Normal is overrated." I said lightly. I wanted to see Clay smile back at me. Instead my words seemed to cause him pain. He shuddered slightly and closed his eyes again. "You just don't understand, Maggie. You really should go. Please." He said tightly, though I could tell he really didn't want me to leave. That he was just saying the words that should be said instead of actually meaning them.

"Nope, you're stuck with me. Friends don't leave one another when they need them." Clay looked at me with a stark hopelessness that freaked me out more than anything had so far. What in the world could make him feel like that?

He slowly laid down on the floor, tucking his chin into his chest and stared at the wall, closing in on himself. It was clear our talking was done. So I did the only thing I could. I grabbed a blanket off of his bed and pulled it over us and I lay on the floor beside him. I carefully put my arm over his waist and snuggled into his back. His clothes were still damp and they made me a little cold, but I held on anyway.

Clayton was rigid for a moment and then he relaxed into my arms, reaching up and lacing his fingers through mine. We lay like that for what felt like an eternity. Me wrapped around the boy I had grown to love as we drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Chapter Eight.

The beeping of my phone pulled me out of sleep the next morning. I awoke in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. I spent a few moments extremely confused. I sat up, the blanket falling away from me. Then it all came flooding back. The party, Clay jumping out of the tree, his ma.s.sive freak out after I brought him home. And, finally, us falling asleep together on the floor.

I was alone in Clayton's bedroom. The house was silent and I gave a quick thanks that my parents thought I was spending the night with Rachel. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that I had fifteen new text messages.

Scrolling through them I saw that most were from Rachel, who demanded to know where I was. There were a few from Daniel as well. The last one was from ten minutes ago. It was Rachel, again, threatening to call my parents if I didn't call her back in fifteen minutes.

s.h.i.t! I hurriedly dialed her number and she picked up on the first ring. "WHERE THE h.e.l.l ARE YOU?!?" She screeched into the phone. I pulled the receiver away from my ear. "Jeesh, calm down, Rachel." I said. "Calm down!?! CALM DOWN?!? I have been worried sick! You disappeared from the party! I get a text saying you left with Clay! I tried calling you a bazillion times, and no answer! You never make it to my house! And I'm supposed to CALM DOWN?!?!?!?"

Wow, she was really angry. "I'm sorry. But Clay was going through some stuff. I ended up staying with him last night." There was dead silence on the other end. "You stayed with Clay? At his house?" She asked, her tone changing to one that said she wanted the dirt and she wanted it p.r.o.nto.

"Not like that. He just needed a friend." I ran my fingers through my hair and my tongue over my teeth. Gross. Morning breath.

"So you're telling me that you spent all night with Clayton Reed and NOTHING happened? I call bulls.h.i.t." Rachel was like a dog after a bone and she wasn't about to give up. Thank G.o.d I was saved by the sudden appearance of Clay in the door way. He was already up and showered and he looked amazing for first thing in the morning. His eyes met mine and my heart thumped painfully.

"Uh, Rach, I've gotta go. I'll call you a little later." "Uh uh, you tell me..." I hung up on her. Yeah, I'd get chewed out for that later but at that moment I didn't care. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. I was suddenly very self-conscious of my less than fresh faced morning appearance. I hoped my mascara hadn't smudged acrossed my face in my sleep.

"Hey." I said. Clay just stood there, watching me. "Hey." He said back softly. Okayyy. I picked up the blanket and folded it, laying it back at the foot of the bed. "How did I end up in the bed?" I asked after smoothing the sheets.

Clay still hadn't moved from the doorway, his eyes watched me intently. "I put you there not long after you fell asleep." "And you slept...?" My words trailed off. Did he sleep in the bed with me? Clay gave me a small smile. I was so happy to see it after the drama of last night. "I slept on the couch." "Oh." I said, not sure what else to say, kind of b.u.mmed that we hadn't been together all night.

I was disappointed to feel the renewal of the old awkwardness that had disappeared from our relationship over the last month. It was like putting on shoes that you had grown out of; not right. But our friendship had taken a drastic turn last night and I didn't know where we would go from here. Clay had some major demons and I had no idea what they meant for him or us. "Bathroom?" I asked, my voice scratchy from too little sleep.

Clay continued to stare at me with his unreadable expression. "Down the hall on the right. There's an extra tooth brush in the cabinet and towels on the shelf." I scampered out of the room, sliding past Clayton, who had yet to move. I locked myself in the cheery bathroom. It was decorated in a bright nautical theme with boats and fish painted on the walls. A little perky for my mood, if you ask me.

I really needed a shower. So I ran the water, stripped off my clothes, and stood under the hot spray. I stood there for an endless moment, letting the droplets drip down my body. I closed my eyes and replayed my night with Clay over and over in my head. What had happened to him? What was going on with him? Finally I turned off the shower and grabbed a fluffy yellow towel and dried off. I hated to put my dirty clothes back on, but considering my overnight bag was at Rachel's I didn't have choice. I found a comb and the extra toothbrush still in the packaging under the sink. I took my time working through the tangles in my hair and then put it back in the dreaded pony tail. Rachel would kill me if she saw it.

I brushed my teeth and started to feel semi human again. Looking in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I looked exhausted with dark circles ringing my eyes and pasty looking skin. I took a deep breath and finally left the bathroom, slowly making my way back down the hall.

I entered Clay's room quietly and found him sitting on the bed, his hands hanging limply between his knees. He looked up when I moved toward him; his eyes looked as tired as I felt. "I'm sorry." He said finally. I sat beside him on the bed and said nothing. Clayton's hands trembled and he clasped them together in front of him. "I don't know what to say to you right now. Please tell me how I can make this better." He pleaded. I sat up straight, needing all of my strength to confront him.

"How about the truth. Enough with the evasive c.r.a.p. Just tell me what's going on with you." Clayton took a deep breath. "Yeah. I guess I owe you that." He said. "You think?" I snarked, feeling bad when I saw the hurt flash crossed his face.

"Mags. You are the best friend I have ever had. I don't know many people that would have stayed after all of that last night, particularly after the way I treated you at that party. You're way too good for me." He sounded so sad and I hated it. I took his left hand in mine and held it lightly, not wanting to frighten him off.

"I don't even know where to begin." Clay mumbled, turning his hand over until his fingers laced with mine. Just like they had been last night as I held him. "How about the beginning. That's usually a good place to start." I suggested, urging him on. "Sure. The beginning." He stood up abruptly and moved to the window, looking outside.

"Well, I guess I should start by telling you the real reason I'm living here in Virginia and not in Florida with my parents. We had a rough relationship to say the least. They are pretty well off. My dad is the District Attorney for Miami Dade County and my mom's a party coordinating, pearl earring wearing, gin and tonic at nine AM kind-of socialite. They are on the inside of the social scene in Miami. I grew up with politicians and celebrities coming to my house for bar-b-ques. But have never been, what you would call, warm parents. I was raised mostly by hired nannies, who came and went out of my life like a revolving door."

I tried to picture a little Clay all alone in a big house with no one who gave a d.a.m.n about him. What a sad and lonely life. Clay turned around to look at me and I could see tiny pieces of his perfectly erected wall start to crumble.

"When I was ten years old I started to have...issues. I became wild and angry. I would fly into these rages and destroy my bedroom, break windows, threaten my parents." His words instantly brought to mind his behavior last night. What he was describing was exactly what I had witnessed right here in his bedroom.

"I would go through periods where everything was fine. I was the picture perfect son, getting straight A's. I would be on fire playing for the lacrosse team, everything was awesome. Then it would change and I would get angry, depressed." I shivered, imagining what he described. I had witnessed these erratic mood swings myself. One day Clay would be my best friend, the next he would ignore me completely. Then there was the craziness of last night.

"I would lock myself in my room for days. And I would...hurt myself." His words made my stomach clench. "Hurt yourself? Like how?" I waited in dread for his answer, not sure I really wanted to hear it, but I couldn't stop him now that he was actually opening up.

"When I was thirteen I discovered that when I cut myself, or burn myself with a lighter...I felt, I don't know...better somehow. That it stopped the craziness in my head and helped me focus. It became sort of like an addiction. I needed the pain to feel something close to normal, as weird as that sounds." Clay slowly peeled his shirt over his head and he stood there, bare chested in front of his window. He took my breath away at the sheer beauty of what was before me. But then, upon closer inspection I could see something else.

I stood up and walked over to him. I could see white scars crisscrossing his chest and down his arms. How had I not noticed these before? I reached out and lightly touched my finger tip to a particularly large scar that ran from one side of his chest to the other. "How did you do this?" I whispered, touching the raised skin.

Clay shivered under my touch but didn't move away. He closed his eyes as I continued to explore the map of scars on his body with my eyes and fingers. "That one was made with a piece of gla.s.s. I was high on cocaine and needed the pain to feel grounded. The cutting wasn't my only addiction. I already told you about that."

I dropped my hand and took a step backwards. Dear G.o.d, how could he destroy himself like that? I just couldn't wrap my mind around someone driven to hurt themselves in that way. It was completely outside my realm of experience.

Clay put his shirt back on and turned away from me again. "By the time I was fourteen I was pretty heavy into drugs and drinking. There wasn't a day that went by that I wasn't loaded...and cutting. I was so deep into my self- destruction that nothing else mattered. My parents were never around. My so- called friends were only there for the drugs I could score with my parents' money. I really didn't have anyone that gave a s.h.i.t about the fact that I was slowly killing myself. And I hated myself, Maggie. I mean really hated myself. I thought about suicide every day. I wanted to die, but was too much of a p.u.s.s.y to outright do it."

The agonizing pain in his voice was unbearable. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him and leaned my cheek against his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. "You weren't a p.u.s.s.y for not killing yourself. I think it's much braver to keep on living, in spite of all that stuff." I said sincerely.

Clay covered my hands with his and held on. He stood rigidly against me. "So how did you end up here, with Ruby?" I asked after he paused. Clay leaned his forehead against the gla.s.s of the window. "It all came to a head about six months ago. I had been partying pretty heavily. I was hanging out with my group of druggie friends and was so strung out on heroin and liquor that I never knew what the h.e.l.l I was doing. I knew my parents were having a dinner party with some of my dad's const.i.tuents, but I just didn't give a s.h.i.t. By that point, my parents had kicked me out of the main house. They were sick of seeing me drunk and high all the time, so I was living in the apartment over the garage."

"Your parents knew you were having problems? And they never tried to get you help?" I interrupted, aghast at the lack of love he received from the people who were supposed to give it to him unconditionally. Clay laughed, a hurt and humorless sound, almost a snarl. "Oh they cared about the fact that I was strung out...but only when it affected them. You know, like if I was supposed to go to some function with them, but was too wasted to make an appearance. Then they'd get p.i.s.sed. But, other than that, their solution was to get me out of their hair. I guess in their minds if they weren't seeing it, it wasn't happening."

"G.o.d Clay, that's horrible." I couldn't help myself. I thought of my own parents and knew that if I was in a dark place like that, they would do everything in their power to help me. I felt a new appreciation for my mom and dad and all they did for me.

"Yeah, well they won't be winning parents of the year anytime soon." He squeezed my hands and pulled my arms away from him, putting s.p.a.ce between us once again.

"Well, I took this girl back to my apartment. Lacey." Oh no, here came the jealousy again. I tamped it down with effort. "Lacey ran with my group of friends and was as drugged out as I was. We had just done lines of c.o.ke at a club in downtown Miami and we wanted to be...well alone." He looked over at me, as if gauging my reaction. I simply nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"We had s.e.x, did some more c.o.ke and broke open the bottle of gin I had stored in my kitchen. I have no idea what happened, but the next thing I knew I was freaking out." Clay took another deep breath, running his hands through his dark curls over and over again.

"I remember smashing the mirror in my bathroom. And Lacey was just sitting there in her underwear, on my couch doing lines as I'm tearing the apartment apart. Then the hurricane in my head just stopped. Next thing I knew I had a piece of gla.s.s in my hand from the mirror and I was cutting my arm. Then my chest. Then my wrists." He turned his hands over and showed me two deep scars, one on each wrist.

"Lacey must have come into the bathroom and seen all the blood. I heard her start screaming, but I was way past caring. The next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital room, my hands strapped to a bed and my parents looking at me with absolute disgust. You see, my little issue ruined their dinner party. Was quite an embarra.s.sment for them."

I was shaking by the time he finished. Whatever I thought was going on with Clay, this was the farthest thing from it. This guy had been to h.e.l.l and back.

Clay opened the drawer at his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of pills, tossing them to me. I caught them and read the label. Lithium. I shook the bottle. "You take these?" I asked. Clay nodded. "I was hospitalized in Miami General's psych unit for ninety days. After that, my parents shipped me up here to stay with my mom's sister, Ruby. I hadn't had much to do with her over the years. She's not close with my mom anymore, particularly after she came out and got together with her girlfriend Lisa. But she is the complete opposite of my parents. She actually gave a s.h.i.t and offered her home to me. She and Lisa are the closest things to parents that I've ever had."

I was relieved to hear that at least someone had cared about him.

"When I was in the hospital, the legion of psychiatrists diagnosed me with bi-polar disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder. They prescribed me lithium for the bi-polar. It's supposed to help with the...swings. But therapy is supposed to be the only thing that helps with my other problems." Clay sneered, obviously unconvinced this is what he needed. I ignored that minefield and opted to focus on the other part of his statement.

"The swings?" I had no idea what he was talking about. Bi-polar disorder? Borderline Personality Disorder? "Yeah, my manic swings. I go through major extremes in my mood. You know, happy one minute, depressed and suicidal the next. I suffer from rapid cycling. My mood swings are severe and hard to control and come on really close together. But a lot of that also has to do with the Borderline issue. The chemical imbalance in my brain is one thing, but the crazy behavior extremes are something else entirely. Which is why I turned to drugs, according to my shrink. I wanted some sort of control over what I was feeling all the time. That's also why I cut. It's so strange to know the textbook explanation of why I'm doing things while having no control over doing them."

I put the bottle of pills on his dresser and crossed my arms over my chest. This was a lot to absorb. I was in information overload. If I wanted to run the other way last night, that was nothing compared to the need to get the h.e.l.l out of there that I was feeling now.

But what kind of friend would that make me if I bailed when he was finally sharing so much with me, even though it was scary and dark? If this were Rachel or Daniel, would I turn my back on them? I immediately knew that I wouldn't. And as I looked at Clay, my heart filled with love for him. Because despite all that he had just told me, it didn't change my feelings for him. Not one bit. I would stay, I would be there and I wouldn't run like a coward.

"Does the lithium help?" I asked him, coming to sit beside him on the bed. Letting him know with my body language that I wasn't going to leave just because he unloaded some heavy s.h.i.t in my lap. Besides, I had asked him for it. "It does, I suppose, but I hate taking it. I feel like a f.u.c.king zombie on that stuff. Like I can't feel anything. I'm just numb. I guess I'd rather be crazy than not feel anything at all." He said. His answer scared me. So was he not taking his meds? Is that what caused his psycho turn last night?

"But it's dangerous not to take your medication, right? I mean, is that why...you know...last night happened?" I didn't know how to word what I wanted to say. I was swimming in very deep waters here.

"I know that, Mags. I know I need to take them. But I just wanted to feel normal for once. To be a normal teenager. To have fun. Hang out with people who didn't know anything about me or only wanted to use me for what I could give them. I wanted to feel what it was like to kiss you for the first time without being sucked into a medicated fog."

Oh. "But you need them. Last night was bad. I can't stand seeing you do that to yourself." I said quietly. I turned my body on the bed until I was facing him. He looked at me and rested his forehead against mine. "And I want to kiss you too, more than anything. But not when you're like this." I watched Clay's shoulders sag with the rightness of what I was saying.

Because as much as I wanted to take that step forward in our relationship, he needed me as a friend more. As much as that freaking sucked. Clay cupped my cheek in his hand. "I am so tired of being this way. I just want it to stop. I want to be a guy you aren't afraid to be around."

I leaned my face into his hand and kissed his palm. "Then take your meds, Clay. I won't watch you destroy yourself over some ridiculous idea that those pills make you less than who you are. You need them. And I need you...as my friend."

That was really hard to say. Because it was such a lie. But he didn't need his life complicated by a new relationship. He needed my support without the added issue of the girlfriend/boyfriend thing. And I needed to wrap myself around all that he had just revealed, and what it potentially meant for any future between us.

Clay's mouth rose on one side in a half smile. "As a friend, huh?" He asked, his eyes questioning me. I nodded, pulling away a bit. "Yes, as a friend. Because you've become one of my best friends, Clay." It really blew being selfless.

"Okay then." Clay got up and picked up the bottle. Shaking out two pills he put them in his mouth and swallowed them without water. "There. Problem solved." He said nonchalantly, opening his mouth to show me he had indeed taken the pills.

I smiled halfheartedly. I seriously doubted a few tiny pills could solve all of his problems. But it was a start.