I ran home with all the shopping putting it where it needed to be; my mum was asleep, surprise. I was in my room in front of the mirror breathing heavily. I was debating calling Michael and telling him everything that had happened, but I couldn't, he would treat me like a baby and I don't want that to happen. I looked at my wrists and signed, tracing over the closed cuts. I knew I shouldn't have done it, it was just in the heat of the moment; it felt right. I looked at my hair, my roots coming through.
After 10 minuets of sitting in front of the mirror, I got up and went in the shower. 20 minuets had passed before I was in my room, dried and in my pyjamas and in bed, thinking about what had happened with Ashton. When he saw my arm, he looked somewhat hurt and worried, I don't know why he would even bother asking if I was okay. I just hope he doesn't start acting weird when we go to school and I seriously hope that he doesn't tell Michael, I want to be the one to tell him. That's if I ever do.
THIS IS REALLY SHITTY WHOOPS