She didn't feel anything, not anymore anyway. She didn't say anything when she saw Gordo kissing another girl. Or when Miranda went to the mall and didn't tell her. She stayed at home all day, every day. With nothing but silence and the pain of heartbreak.
Nobody came to see her and she liked it that way. Well, that's what they thought. And that's why she didn't feel any pain as the razor touched her skin. She felt the build-up and the sweet release as she saw the blood. One, two, three; a ghost with no soul is what she saw in the mirror. One; for not being good enough. Two; for crying when she's supposed to be strong. Three; for Gordo.
He made her feel like the most beautiful person ever but then let her down, just like that. Like the past 15 years of their friendship was nothing.
"Lizzie," a ghost voice lower than a whisper. "It will be okay, I promise."
She hoped he was right, but Gordo was always right. And she knew what he'd seen and wished she's worn a sweater that day. The next thing came without thinking: she kissed him and he tasted like coffee and vanilla and the apple shampoo he'd used since 7th grade. He tasted like her.