Pre-warning: If this is going to trigger anything for any of my lovely readers, then please don't read this one. I understand if that is the case. I almost can't read it myself, and I wrote it. Remember, if you ever want to talk to me about it, my inbox is always open, even if I'm not around to get to it. As soon as I see your message, I will respond, promise. :D Now, if it's not going to trigger you to self-harm, then continue to read. 

Zayn: "Janel, come here, now! I have to show you something." He yelled, from the bathroom. You instantly thought that this could not be good. You walk to the door, and see Zayn standing in front of the sink.

"Oh, you're here. That took you long enough."

"Yea, yea, save it. What is it this time?"

"What is this, Janel, and why is there blood on it?"

"Crap, you found it."

"I found what?"

"One of my cutting utensils. (slaps mouth)"

"Janel, cut? Why, baby girl?"

"Ever since I lost that one meet, back in December, I've been cutting. Each one is a time where I didn't get at least third place, even at practice. The deeper ones, on my stomach, are times where I have fell. There's a lot of them."

"Yea, and not getting placing position make you cut why?"

"Zayn, it's hard to be a Nationally recognized speed skater, and get less than placing. Everyone expects higher than that, especially when I can prove it with the medals that I have gotten- FROM NATIONALS! Now, just let me cry by myself. I don't want you to see me cry."

"No, baby girl, I'm crying with you. You can't do this to yourself, and not tell me about it. I can help you get over this. That's what I'm here for, baby." You burst into tears, and drop to your knees. Zayn goes down, and cuddles you into his chest, and you cry for hours on end, and just when you want to stop crying, somehow, you just can't stop.

Niall: He had just found a cut on your stomach, and he questioned why it was there. He knew that you had something to yourself.

"Janel, what is this...a cut on your stomach? What's it from? Was it accidental? Did you do it on purpose?"

"Ni, chill! I was climbing a tree, and a branch scratched me. It's not like I cut, or anything like that, geez!"

"Janel, do you cut? You can tell me the truth; it's not I'll break up with you. I'm here to help you, Janel."

"Fine, Niall! I cut. Happy now?"

"No; why do you do it to yourself? You're too beautiful for this. Please, stop, or we have to take you in."

"NO, Niall, I'll stop, but you have to help me." "Deal, princess." He, over the course of the next two weeks, helped you stop cutting.

Liam: He had suspected that something was wrong when you didn't finish your rice one night.

"Janel, what's wrong? You didn't finish dinner. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yea, I'm fine. I must not be hungry, that's all." The next night after that, the same thing. This time, you ate less than you did last night.

"Janel, are you sure that you're OK? You didn't finish your dinner, yet again. Are you sick? Do you have a slight stomachache?"

"Yea, just a bit, but I'll be OK."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel bad."

"Yea, Liam, I'll be fine." The next three nights were the same; you ate less and less, and one night, after you ate, you ran to the bathroom. You got a feeling that you had to puke, but didn't, at the same time. The bulimia was kicking in, and it was noticable, but Liam didn't know about it yet.