Sharp Objects

I'm here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting, those words. When I'm panicked, I say them aloud to myself. I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am. I feel like a warm gust of wind could exhale my way and I'd be disappeared forever, not even a sliver of fingernail left behind. On some days, I find this thought calming; on others it chills me.


“I can be nice, you know?” she said, her brow still furrowed. She seemed on the edge of tears herself.
“I know. It's just that I'm wondering why you've decided to be nice to me now.”
“Sometimes I can't. But right now, I can. When everyone's asleep and everything's quiet, it's easier.”