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There are two people in the house besides Sloane⎼⎼Judd, and Celine.
Celine is busy drawing, and Sloane doesn’t know what Judd’s doing, so she wanders. The others are working a case, watching Sterling and Briggs interview suspects. Sloane and Celine don’t need to be there for that, so they stayed at the house.
Sloane ends up in Briggs’s office. Her fingers trail along the edge of the desk. Without thinking about it, her hand closes around the handle of his pocketknife. It’s sitting there on his desk. Right there.
It could be so easy.
Sloane stops herself. Her grip tightens on the handle until her knuckles turn white. No. She’s done with those thoughts. She’s been doing better.
So why does she still want to slice the knife across her wrists and let herself bleed?
Before Sloane can talk herself out of it, she picks up the knife. Without thinking about it, she wanders to the bathroom and quietly closes the door behind her. Sloane doesn’t let herself look in the mirror, doesn’t let herself get distracted by last time. If she hadn’t taken so long to actually do it last time, she wouldn’t need to try again.
Footsteps sound down the hallway. Sloane tenses as they stop in front of the door. “Sloane?” Celine’s voice asks uncertainly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sloane replies, but it comes out strained.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Sloane sucks in a breath. Don’t make noise this time, she tells herself. That’s what busted her last time. Slowly, Sloane lifts the knife and drags it across her wrist, drawing blood. The cut is deeper than the one she made last time, and blood gushes out almost instantly. Sloane winces, dropping to her knees with a dull thud.
The doorknob turns, and that’s when Sloane remembers.
She forgot to lock the door.
Before Celine can stop her, Sloane tightens her grip on the knife’s handle and cuts⎼⎼anywhere, everywhere, wherever she can. Blood drips all over her arms and across all her scars as the door fully opens.
“Sloane!” Celine gasps. “What are you⎼⎼ Stop!” She drops to her knees in front of Sloane, her expression worried, pleading, begging. Her hand catches Sloane’s wrist, and Sloane winces, her eyes watering.
“Stop,” Sloane chokes out, pulling her wrist away. “Don’t touch me⎼⎼don’t⎼⎼”
“Sloane, I don’t⎼⎼I don’t understand!” Celine shoots back. “I thought⎼⎼it looked like… I thought you were getting better!” Her voice breaks, and Sloane sees through her sudden haze of tears that Celine’s crying, too.
“Just let me⎼⎼just let me die!” Sloane sobs. She slices across her forearm again and pulls away from Celine as she tries to stop her. “I don’t want to keep living,” she continues, her voice cracking. She presses her hands against her face, trying to stop the tears from leaking out. They still run down her face anyway. “My mother died, Aaron died⎼⎼why can’t I die?”
“Because we’re here,” Celine insists. “I’m here, and I want you to be happy, okay?”
“Then you should let me⎼⎼”
“Sloane,” Celine interrupts. “Babe, you’re trying to do something you’ll regret as soon as it’s over. And I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to think this”⎼⎼she gestures to Sloane⎼⎼“is going to solve all your problems, because it’s not.”
“You don’t know that,” Sloane argues weakly. She feels dizzy. It’s working. All the rapid cuts she made are working. She needs to stall a little longer.
Celine’s hand closes around Sloane’s, the one that’s still holding the knife. “Do you trust me?” she asks simply.
“Yes,” Sloane replies instantly, without having to think about it.
“Then believe me on this, angel.” Celine carefully reaches over with her other hand and pulls the bloody knife out of Sloane’s grasp. She sets it down on the floor, out of Sloane’s reach, and meets Sloane’s eyes. “This won’t help you.”
Sloane sniffles. “I hate living,” she whispers. “You should just⎼⎼you shouldn’t have to⎼⎼you don’t⎼⎼”
“Don’t you dare say I shouldn’t have to do this,” Celine cuts in, gently but firmly. “You feel what you feel, Blondie, and I’m here for you.”
Sloane sniffles again. “You should have someone better than this,” she mumbles, averting her gaze from Celine’s.
“If I had the option, I wouldn’t pick someone that fits the definition of better,” Celine replies, gently running her thumb underneath Sloane’s eyes and wiping away some of the tears. Sloane looks down at her own hands. They’re bloody. “I’d pick you.”
Sloane feels more tears starting to spill out of her eyes. Her vision is blurry, but she can see Celine’s crying, too⎼⎼sobbing, even. That fully opens the floodgates for Sloane. “I miss them,” she sobs. “It’s not fair. Why did they have to die and I can’t?”
Celine doesn’t say anything, she just wraps her arms around Sloane and pulls Sloane’s body into hers. Sloane doesn’t know how long they sit there, with Celine holding Sloane and both of them sobbing, but eventually Sloane’s vision starts to get fuzzy around the edges and she remembers she’s still bleeding. “Celine,” she chokes out. “I⎼⎼I’m going to⎼⎼”
“Oh my God,” Celine mutters, pulling back from Sloane. She looks horrified. “Shit. I⎼⎼okay. Just try to stay awake, okay?”
“I can’t,” Sloane whimpers.
“You can,” Celine says firmly. “I’m going to find⎼⎼”
“No!” Sloane’s sudden burst of energy surprises them both. “Please don’t leave,” she begs.
“Sloane, I⎼⎼I have to,” Celine replies desperately. “There’s too much blood, I can’t do this by⎼⎼”
Footsteps sound down the hallway. Both Sloane and Celine freeze. “Girls?” Judd’s voice asks gruffly. He’s approaching the door. “What’s going on in there?”
Celine reacts first. “We need your help,” she says quickly, her voice rising in pitch with panic. “It’s Sloane⎼⎼”
That is the last thing Sloane hears before her vision goes completely dark.
When Sloane wakes up, everything hurts.
Her eyes flutter open, and she stares at the ceiling, her vision swimming in and out of focus. Her lips part, and a soft moan slips out.
There’s a rustle of movement to her right, but Sloane can’t turn her head to see who it is. “Hi, babe,” Celine’s voice says gently. Her fingers brush against Sloane’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” Sloane whispers unconvincingly. She blinks to try and get her vision to focus. Slowly, she moves to push herself up into a sitting position, and Celine’s arm slides under her shoulder to support her. Sloane rests her head back against the wall as Celine scoots into the bed next to her.
“I just don’t understand why,” Celine says, finally breaking the silence. Sloane’s head has come to rest on Celine’s shoulder. “What happened that made this… happen again?”
“I don’t know,” Sloane replies, her voice tiny.
“Is it my fault?”
“No!” Sloane bursts out. “No, it’s⎼⎼you’re⎼⎼I’m⎼⎼I just⎼⎼” Sloane cuts herself off and starts over. “It’s not your fault,” she says quietly. “I⎼⎼I don’t know what happened, I was in Briggs’s office and it was right there and⎼⎼”
“Shh, okay,” Celine interrupts. “I get it, sugar. Just breathe.”
Sloane exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Celine’s arm curves around Sloane’s waist. “You don’t need to be sorry,” she murmurs. “We’ll work on these kinds of thoughts and urges together.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”