Borderline

Lying naked on the bed, Sour Sweet couldn't stop crying.

Idiot. Hopeless, useless idiot.

Tenor immediately backed away from her. "Woah, o-okay, we're stopping—"

"I'm sorry!" Sour Sweet spat out the words like they were hot coals. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I—!"

I couldn't even keep a friend for one night.

"N-no, no, hey, it's okay, let's just—just slow down for a second—"

Isn't this supposed to be normal? What the fuck is wrong with me?!

Suddenly all too aware of how exposed she was, Sour Sweet scrambled to put her clothes on. Leggings and top, no time for anything else. She had to get out of here, she had to get away, she couldn't stay here or she'd just make things worse—

"I'm sorry," she stammered again. "I-I'm so sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me—"

I'm so fucking selfish.

"Just breathe, okay?" Tenor kept talking to her like she was a person, rather than the sick, delusional animal she was. "Let's just take a minute and talk—"

He hates me, he has to, there's no way he doesn't hate me now—

"No!" Sour Sweet cried, struggling to keep her hair out of her face as she pulled her top back on. She grabbed her shoes, not bothering to put them on as she ran past him, tears streaming down her face. "I-I have to go, I'm sorry, I have to go—!"

The door closed behind her, and just like that he was gone from her life forever. She had no time to grieve the loss of her last friend—she had to get out, now.

Down the stairs, to the back of the house. The room was full of people, but thankfully no one looked her way—at least until she started shoving her way through the crowd. Music blared around her, people staring and murmuring, as Sour Sweet pushed her way to the door.

They'll all hate me forever now.

Someone said her name, but she couldn't stop, couldn't listen. She had to get away, she had to go away. She ran out the door, across the driveway, to her car parked on the street. A voice called out to her again, but she couldn't look back. She was already in the car, turning the key, and driving away, leaving her last chance for friendship to vanish in the distance.

A few blocks away, Sour Sweet pulled over, praying no one would see her. She cut the engine, killed the headlights, and lost herself in the dark. Her chest burned as panic crashed over her like a wave, and her whimpers at the end of each breath worsened into cries.

Sour Sweet screamed. She screamed and sobbed and slammed her head against the wheel again and again. Idiot. Idiot. Couldn't she do anything right?! How long had she found a new friend in Tenor before she'd irreparably ruined things—less than two hours? What the hell was she thinking, coming to this party? She knew she'd mess it up, she knew she was hopeless. Already her second chance with the girls had crashed and burned, and now Tenor—

I led him on then ran away. He'll never want to speak to me again.

That's not what anyone else would think, though. All those people she'd barrelled through on her way out would see her for what she truly was—some stupid slut who'd spread her legs for a guy on the same night she met him, only to run away crying when it was over.

But I didn't even have the basic courtesy to let him fuck me.

Screams and cries and sobs tore at her throat. She shouldn't have said anything. She shouldn't have done anything. She should've just stayed there, silent and compliant, letting him fuck her as much as he wanted. She owed him that much, after how many times she'd told him she wanted it. He must have been so excited… She let him hold her and kiss her, strip her down and touch her everywhere, but she wouldn't let him fuck her, too?

How could I be so selfish?!

There was no excuse. He gave her so many chances to say no, but she just kept telling him what he wanted to hear, because he'd been so nice to her, and—

Sour Sweet's breathing stopped, her eyes widening. Was that all he had wanted? Did he even see her as a friend? What if it was all an act, and he was just another creep like Sunny Flare had warned her about? Tricking her, trying to make a good impression so he could get her alone, and then throw her away when he was done with her?

That would still be better than this.

Idiot. Stupid, selfish, useless idiot. How long had it been since she'd run away, five minutes? Ten? If she'd stayed, it would probably be over by now, and she might have even enjoyed it. He definitely would have, and then maybe she could have kept being his friend, so long as she let him fuck her when he wanted to. Would that really have been so bad? But no, like always, Sour Sweet couldn't control herself. She couldn't sit down, shut up, know her place—

No wonder Mom wanted me gone.

And now Tenor wanted her gone, too.

Another screaming sob ripped its way out of her. Sour Sweet hugged herself, gripping her forearms tightly, her nails digging into the skin. It stung, and little half-moons dotted her arm when she pulled away.

She deserved to hurt, after what she'd done to him, what she'd done to everyone. She had hurt so many people—Dad and Saccharine, Sunny Flare and Sugarcoat, and now Tenor. Only Mom had been smart enough to recognize Sour Sweet for the time bomb she was, and knew to get clear of the blast before it was too late. Everyone else was too good, too trusting of a sick, stupid whore who forced her presence on her friends and led people on without following through. They would all be better off if she left them alone, if she went away forever, if she just—if she would just…

…Die.

Was that true? Would they really—

Of course it's true, and everyone knows it. They're all just too nice to tell me.

They all knew. They all wanted it. They all wanted her out of their way, out of their lives, they…

Sour Sweet exhaled slowly, softly, as a cold, silent calm swept over her.

They all want me to die.

By the time Sour Sweet got to her dad's house, it was almost midnight. Dad was working tomorrow, so he'd gone to bed early, and of course Saccharine had gone to bed hours ago. Sour Sweet stumbled through the darkness, quiet and cold. Her jacket was back at Sugarcoat's house, she realized, but that wasn't important. Nothing felt important anymore.

Rather than going upstairs to bed, she instead entered the kitchen. Along the right side of the room was a set of drawers, the first of which held her target. She opened it, feeling around for the handle of the small paring knife. Dad always kept things organized, so even in the dark, the knife was easy enough to find. Sour Sweet took it, closed the drawer, then finally made her way to the upstairs bedroom.

Closing and locking the door behind her, Sour Sweet turned on the lights. She looked down at the knife in her hand.

Should I write a note?

No, that wouldn't be necessary. Everyone would understand—Saccharine might be confused at first, but Dad could explain it to her well enough.

As Sour Sweet sat on the bed, staring at the little knife, that familiar gray haze slithered its way up her spine. The whole world dulled and grew distant, and Sour Sweet, exhausted and unafraid, held the blade of the knife to the side of her neck.

Did she really want to die, though?

Does that even matter?

She needed to stop being so fucking selfish. This wasn't about her—this was about Dad and Saccharine and the girls who had been her friends, and all the pain and misery her presence would cause them. This was about Tenor, and about all the guys who Sour Sweet would doubtlessly lead on, only to torment them with her whiny bullshit. For once in her life, she needed to put the needs of others before herself and—

Sour Sweet pulled the blade away, gasping. The haze flickered, and anger swelled in her chest.

Stupid, selfish bitch.

She stared at the knife, turning it over in her hand a few times. Its blade was short, but it would be enough. Just one deep cut into the side of her neck and she would be gone, and everyone else would be happy—grateful, even…

Heartless, hopeless monster.

…But she couldn't even give them that.

Sick, slutty idiot.

The gray haze washed over her, and again, she was far away. Sour Sweet watched, unable to care, as the girl in her guise pressed the knife's edge to her forearm.

Mom was right. No one will ever love me again.

In a single, swift motion, Sour Sweet slashed the blade across her arm. The stinging sensation shot through her, cutting through the haze and everything beneath it. All the memories of her failures, all the anger and pain and terror, all the hatred and loss and misery… In an instant, it was all gone, stuffed away in the back of her mind, leaving Sour Sweet alone in the bedroom to watch her blood trickle across her skin.

Sour Sweet stayed in the bedroom, with the door locked, for all of Sunday. Hunger came, but with enough waiting, it passed. Saccharine knocked on her door a few times, but Sour Sweet just told her she was resting. On the bedside table, her phone sat unplugged, its battery dead. What the other partygoers thought of her didn't matter—whatever hurtful things they could say, Sour Sweet had already said to herself.

Through it all, the paring knife saw plenty of use. Sour Sweet made over a dozen cuts along her left forearm, and twice as many on her thighs. Whenever the haze crept in, threatening to drag her back down to that place she had been while Tenor was touching her, the knife cut through it with ease, anchoring Sour Sweet to her own body.

Every cut was made with her sins in mind. She would feel the pain, watch the blood, and think of all the people who cared about her whose lives she had made worse, just by being part of them. The friends who hated her, the boy who was so kind to her, the mother who tried so hard for her—all of them deserved better. All of them deserved a chance to hurt her, like she had hurt them. They weren't here, though, and even if they had been, they were all too kind to do to her what she deserved.

That's okay. I can do it for them.

No amount of apologies could make up for the things she'd done. Hurting herself wouldn't make up for it either, but if nothing else, it reminded Sour Sweet of what she deserved. Each cut was a prelude, she knew. A practice run for the last thing she had to do, for her best chance to do right by the good people she'd left devastated in her wake. She thought about it as she lay in bed, and it gave her enough comfort to sleep through the night.

Monday greeted Sour Sweet with a heavy pounding on her door. Panic flooded her veins as she shot up in bed, a scream already forming on her lips—until she heard who it was.

"Sour Sweet? I know you're in there!" Sugarcoat's voice called out, and the banging resumed.

What does she want? To yell at me?

Quickly as she could with sleep still clouding her eyes, Sour Sweet rolled out of bed. She threw on a hoodie to cover her arms, pulled on a pair of sweats to hide her thighs, and stuffed the knife in the drawer with all her makeup.

"I really need to talk to you!" Sugarcoat shouted through the door.

Anxiety stiffened Sour Sweet's limbs as she approached the door, and unlocked it. Whatever Sugarcoat wanted to say to her, she could take it. She deserved it. The least she could do was let her former friend chew her out for being such a needy, hopeless bitch—

Sugarcoat opened the door, and their eyes met. Behind her, Sour Sweet saw Sunny Flare with her arms crossed, and Saccharine standing halfway down the stairs, clearly scared.

"There you are!" Sunny Flare said. "God, do you ever keep your phone on?"

Just let her say what she wants. I deserve it.

Sour Sweet looked away. "S-sorry," she said quietly.

Sugarcoat sighed. "Whatever." Turning to Saccharine, still watching from the stairs, she said, "We need to talk to your big sister alone, okay?"

Saccharine looked at Sour Sweet, fear plainly written on her face, but after a moment, she nodded. "Okay," she said. "Sour Sweet?"

Sour Sweet's heartbeat rushed in her ears. "Y-yeah?"

"I-I love you, okay?" Saccharine told her. Sour Sweet thought she saw tears in her eyes. Then she was gone, down the stairs and off to another room.

Sugarcoat watched her go, before sighing and pushing her way past Sour Sweet into the bedroom. Sunny Flare did the same, and Sour Sweet, rubbing at her eyes, followed behind them and closed the door.

"I brought your stuff back," Sugarcoat said. Sour Sweet blinked, and realized that she had been holding a bundle of clothes the whole time—the jacket, bra, and panties Sour Sweet had left behind. "Do I even wanna know why I found your underwear upstairs?"

She hates me, I knew it.

"What happened, anyway?" Sunny Flare said. "One moment you're going to get us drinks, the next you're just gone, and then Zest said she saw you storming out?"

"And all of yesterday you just ignored us!" Sugarcoat said. "Do you know how worried we were?"

They both hate me.

Sour Sweet stared at the floor. "I… I-I, uhm…"

"It's totally fine," Sugarcoat said, rolling her eyes. "Like yeah, I told everyone no going upstairs, but at least you picked the guest room to hook up in—"

"I didn't!" Sour Sweet cried, her eyes watering. "I-I didn't, I…"

But I should have.

Sunny Flare's eyes went wide. Her whole demeanor softened, and she stepped forward slowly, taking Sour Sweet's hands in her own. "Sour Sweet, did… Did someone hurt you?" she asked, her voice low and quiet.

She has it backwards, I'm the one who hurt him.

Sugarcoat seemed to catch Sunny Flare's meaning, and mirrored her concern. Sour Sweet felt her hand on her shoulder, Sunny Flare's hand still holding her own, touching her—

"No!" Sour Sweet shook her head, pulling away from them both. "N-no, I-I… I didn't mean for it to happen, I-I'm sorry—"

Stop making excuses.

Sunny Flare immediately pulled Sour Sweet into a hug. "I'm so sorry," she said, holding her a little tighter. "I-I'm so sorry, Sour Sweet."

"Who was he?" Venom laced Sugarcoat's words. "Tell me his name, we can—"

She wants to get Tenor in trouble.

"Stop it!" Sour Sweet screamed, pushing Sunny Flare away. "H-he didn't do anything wrong!" How did they not understand? It was her fault—it was always her fault.

"Sour Sweet, please, listen to me." Sunny Flare stepped closer again, without touching her this time. "It's not your fault, okay? It's not."

Sour Sweet felt her breaths quicken. All at once, the fear drained out of her, leaving nothing but anger in its place. "How the fuck would you know, huh?" she snapped, glaring daggers at Sunny Flare. "You weren't there, you don't know what happened! And why do you care, anyway?!"

"Because you're my friend!"

"Stop lying to me!"

Sugarcoat took a step back, but Sunny Flare stood firm. "I'm not lying," she said. "How could I not care that—" Her voice wavered suddenly— "Th-that my friend was—"

"He didn't hurt me!" Sour Sweet shouted. She had to fix this, she had to make them understand, she couldn't cause Tenor any more trouble. "He asked me if I was okay, over and over, b-but I just, I-I just kept saying yes—"

"Even though you were scared?" Sugarcoat said.

"That doesn't matter!"

"Of course it matters!" Sunny Flare said. "It's not consent if you only said yes because you were scared of him!"

"But I wasn't scared of him!" Sour Sweet said. "Stop telling me how I feel!"

Sunny Flare looked so lost. "Then what were you afraid of?"

"That he'd throw me away like you did!" Sour Sweet screamed.

Sugarcoat and Sunny Flare were silent. Before either of them could speak, Sour Sweet continued. "How many times have you made it clear you're sick of me? How stupid do you think I am?" she cried. "Lying to me, avoiding me, trying to get me expelled?!"

"What are you talking about? We—we never…" Sunny Flare trailed off, seeming scared—furious.

"You're our friend, dumbass!" Sugarcoat said.

Liars. They both want me to die.

"You don't have to pretend anymore," Sour Sweet told them. She marched forward, herding them towards the door. "I-I know you both can't stand me, so you can stop with this—this stupid fucking pity and just cut me out of your lives already!"

"We don't—"

"Forget it!" Tears returned to Sour Sweet's eyes as she forced the girls out of the bedroom. "I can't keep living like this, always—always wondering when you'll pull the plug on me! I know you both wish I was dead, a-and that I deserve it—"

Sunny Flare raised her hand. "Sour Sweet, please—"

"—So just do yourselves a favor and leave me alone!" With that, Sour Sweet slammed the bedroom door in their faces and locked it.

She took a heavy breath, and then another. Silence loomed on the other side of the door, until at last she heard footsteps descending the stairs. The front door opened and closed, and just like that, Sour Sweet was alone.

It didn't take long for her to start crying again. Sour Sweet curled in on herself, huddled beneath the bedroom door, mourning for the death of her friendships. There could be no doubt this time. They were gone, and they would never come back.

I'm doing them a favor.

Cries grew into sobs. Sour Sweet buried her face in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face hurt, her throat hurt, her head hurt… and she deserved all of it. All that pain and so much more. Sour Sweet didn't know how long she stayed there, crying like an idiot in a room that would never be hers. Oozing self-pity, putting on a pathetic show for no one to see, as if anyone who did would care.

No one cares. No one ever did.

It wasn't long before the gray haze found her. It wafted in from beneath the crack in the door, swirling and surrounding her, coiling around her throat and choking the last of her cries. Sour Sweet fell silent, waiting for it to take her completely. Once it did, maybe the fear would be gone. Maybe the haze could guide the knife to her neck, press it in, and slash it through.

"Sour Sweet?"

Her head rose, muscles aching. She waited, hoping Saccharine would think she was sleeping and leave, but instead her half-sister called her name again.

"Sour Sweet? Hello?" Saccharine knocked on the door lightly.

"Go away, Saccharine," Sour Sweet said. She did her best to keep her voice cold and distant, though it hardly required effort anymore.

"I… N-no!" Saccharine knocked on the door again. "Let me in, I miss you!"

Sour Sweet frowned, anger flaring in her chest. She'd only just woken up, but piecing things together made her realize that Saccharine must have been the one to usher the girls in. Dad wasn't home—he was never home. It had to be her.

Sour Sweet opened the door to see Saccharine looking up at her. The gray haze drained away as anger burned brighter, forcing it out, and Sour Sweet took a step towards her half-sister.

"Why'd you let them in, huh? Couldn't you tell I was sleeping?"

Immediately, tears formed in Saccharine's eyes. "I-I… It was late, a-and your friends said they were worried, and I was worried too—"

"They are not my friends!" Sour Sweet snapped. "And I wanted to be left alone! What part of a closed door don't you get?!"

"I-I wanted to make sure you were okay," Saccharine said.

"I've never been okay! How could I possibly be okay when everyone hates me?!"

Saccharine just looked confused. "I don't hate you," she said softly.

"Well you should," Sour Sweet said, crossing her arms. "It'll happen eventually anyway."

"But I don't want to hate you…"

"And I don't want to be hated, but it doesn't matter!" Sour Sweet said, her voice raising. "Those girls hate me, my mom hates me, Dad hates me—"

"Dad always says to be nice to you—"

"Because he's trying to trick me!" Sour Sweet yelled. "He wants to keep me here, act like everything's fine, so he'll always have me here to take care of you!"

"B-but…" Saccharine looked so sad as she said, "But Dad loves you…"

"Liar!" Sour Sweet screamed at her. "He loves you, but he just tolerates me! H-he never loved me, just like my mom never loved me!"

Saccharine tried to hug her, but Sour Sweet backed away. "He only keeps me around because of you!" she shouted, her heart so full of anger that it threatened to burst. "He needs my help now, but when I needed his, he gave me away and replaced me with you!"

Her breaths came slower and heavier in the silence that followed. Sour Sweet shut her eyes, grimacing at the dull pain of her headache. But when she opened them, her heart nearly stopped.

Saccharine wept softly, staring at the floor. "I-I'm sorry," she cried, shaking her head. "I-I'm sorry, Sour Sweet, I—I'm sorry…"

I'm a monster.

Sour Sweet took a step back. Her heart urged her to move forward, to embrace her sister, the sister who still loved her more than anything in the world—

I'll only hurt her again.

The bedroom door closed between them. Outside, Saccharine's voice was hollow and frail.

"I-I love you, Sour Sweet…"

Turning away, Sour Sweet whispered under her breath, "I love you too."

The hours passed in silence. Sour Sweet stayed in the bedroom, door locked, passing the paring knife over her skin every so often.

The gray haze had returned, and this time even the knife couldn't cut through it. As weighed down by the haze as Sour Sweet was, she barely felt the knife's sting anymore. Or maybe it was just getting dull.

I made my sister hate me.

Sour Sweet pressed the knife into her forearm, and pulled. The blade dug deep into her skin, and blood rose up behind it to fill the cut. Pain came with it, distant as it was.

I make everyone hate me.

Another cut, parallel to the last. Not as deep, but the pain of both felt like what she deserved.

They all want me to die, and they're right to. I shouldn't even be alive.

When she closed her eyes, Sour Sweet saw Saccharine's tear-stained face, heartbroken and miserable because she'd been naive enough to think she could help the sister she loved so much. She saw Tenor, confused and afraid, as the girl who had told him explicitly that she wanted him suddenly screamed and pushed him away, long after letting him hold her, kiss her, strip her naked, and touch her. She saw Sunny Flare and Sugarcoat, horrified, as the girl they once cared about shouted at them like the deranged freak she had always been and chased them away.

Monster. Slut. Idiot.

The knife bit into her again, this time on her thigh. The tops of both her thighs were stained red after dozens of cuts, large and small, had been carved into her skin.

There's no going back now.

Slowly, Sour Sweet stood up from the bed. The closet would be a good place. Knife in hand, Sour Sweet started to cross the room—then stopped. In her periphery, she saw something. A piece of paper, folded, had been slipped beneath the bedroom door.

The haze's grip on her thinned, but it still held her in place. She stared at the paper, then at the knife in her hand.

Don't look. Just do it.

Sour Sweet took a step towards the closet, but froze. Above her, the little red holiday hat hung from her bedpost, and when Sour Sweet closed her eyes, she saw Saccharine. Not hurt, not crying, but laughing excitedly as Sour Sweet opened the bag containing the first gift Saccharine had ever given her big sister.

She was so good to me, and I hurt her anyway.

Would it always be that way? Shame and guilt and pain swirled through her mind like thundering storm clouds, flashing with lightning and illuminating so many memories of all her mistakes. Years of pushing away her friends, of avoiding her father, of disappointing her little sister over and over… How could she not see the pattern? The problem was her—it had always been her. No matter what, she would always hurt the people who cared about her.

In the end, they would all leave her. Just like Dad did when she was little, and just like Mom did years later. Deep in her heart, Sour Sweet didn't just fear that—she knew it. As sure as she knew the sky was blue, she knew that anyone she tried to connect with would, sooner or later, see her for the monster she was. Then they would leave, for their own health and safety, because Sour Sweet was just too much.

Always afraid, always quick to lash out. Always inflicting her own pain on others, without even meaning to. Always mired in self-hatred, no matter how hard those around her tried to make her feel better. Who could ever love someone like that?

No one.

Her grip around the knife's handle tightened. It would be so easy. Just one quick cut into the side of her neck and everything would disappear. Dad would be relieved, Sunny Flare and Sugarcoat would be grateful, and Saccharine…

Saccharine would be devastated.

She'll get over it.

She shouldn't have to.

She replaced me. I should hate her.

How could she hate her little sister?

Half-sister.

She breathed in, and out. If she was going to leave her sister forever, she could at least read whatever Saccharine had written.

It doesn't matter what it is.

Sour Sweet placed the knife on the dresser. She would come back for it. With that thought, she retrieved the note from under the door, and opened it.

'I love you no matter what.'

The words were scrawled beneath a big heart, drawn with a bright pink colored pencil. Sour Sweet stood there, reading the words over and over. Something in her head insisted that, if she read them enough times, the words would change, or somehow lose their meaning.

But they didn't. No matter how many times she read it, the message was the same.

No matter what.

The gray haze's hold on her slipped, and Sour Sweet took the chance to tear herself away from its grasp.

Her eyes ran red with tears as she put her hoodie and sweats back on. Saccharine didn't need to see her like this. Without the anesthesia of the haze, the pain of her cuts settled in, and her every movement was stiff and slow. Even still, she never let go of the paper.

Sour Sweet found her sister downstairs, lying on the couch. At first she thought Saccharine might be asleep, until she bolted upright at Sour Sweet's approach. Without a word, Saccharine shot across the room and hugged her as tightly as a little girl could.

I don't deserve her.

That didn't matter. She loved her all the same.

She'll hate me eventually.

No. No, she wouldn't.

"S-Saccharine?" Sour Sweet only realized she was crying when her voice cracked. "Can you get me the phone, please?"

Her sister nodded and ran off to find it. Sour Sweet waited, reading over her sister's words a few more times.

No matter what.

When Saccharine returned with the phone, she handed it to Sour Sweet then immediately hugged her again. Saccharine held her the whole time as, breath wavering and limbs aching, Sour Sweet dialed their father's number.

It rang once, then twice—

"Hello?"

Sour Sweet's composure broke when she heard his voice, but she pushed on. "H-hi, Dad," she said. "I… Could you, uhm…"

"Sour Sweet? You okay?"

Saccharine held her tight. Sour Sweet looked at her sister's letter, read over the words one more time, and sighed.

"N-no," she said through her tears. "I'm not okay."