sʜᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ

T W E N T Y - F O U R

Benny

"A man by the name of Bob Hart has killed his wife, Veronica Hart, and has been taken into custody."

I paused the TV when the man's picture came up. It was a picture of him in hand cuffs, and in the background I see a few kids.

And one of them is Alexa.

I smile.

I wasn't arrested when the cops had came by to question me, and now they are all going to be sorry.

***

Alexa

I sat alone in my room. I needed a breather. Everything was too much. I'm scared, sad, angry even. I didn't want to go with Ryan. Andrew and I are thirteen—maybe they will give us a choice on who we want to stay with?

I'm so anxious, so everything. I was feeling way too much, and I hated it. I glance down at my arms, feeling a familiar itch.

But I shouldn't.

Oh, but I want to.

I opened my dresser and pulled out a razor. I've been saving it for a special occasion. Just in case, I've ever... I took a deep breath, and put the razor against my skin and sliced.

I watched as the blood flowed. I sliced a few more. My anxiety was subsiding. Not by much, though. So I sliced my skin again.

"Hey, Alexa, I—" Cameron said, entering my room without knocking.

I forgot to lock the door.

I stared at my stepbrother in horror. He stared back at me with probably just as much horror. I was holding a razor as blood dripped from my arms. This does not look good.

"Alexa," Cameron said slowly, eyes wide. "What—what are you doing?"

I blinked.

"Art...?"

"Art..." Cameron says. "...on your arm...?"

"Yes....?"

Cameron just stared at me for a few moments. I didn't know what was going on through his mind, and I don't think that I even wanted to know. Cameron steps toward me and holds out his hand. I stare at him, confused.

"The razor," Cameron said, as if answering my confused expression. "Give it to me."

It's my last one and it's not like I have a job to get another one. I swallowed. "No, it's okay," I told him. "I won't do it again, I promise." I really should have locked the door.

Cameron didn't look like he believed me, which was a good call, but not good for me. "When did you start this habit?" he asked, looking at my arm with what could be described as disgust. He glanced at my other arm, to see scars from the last time I had done it.

I wasn't even sure how to answer Cameron. This habit started before Benny had kidnapped me but then I stopped then started then stopped and now started again. It's like I'm destined for scarred arms.

I shrug, glancing down at the floor. I didn't want to see Cameron's expression any longer. I felt bad for being the reason that it was there. To my alarm, Cameron grabbed my bloody arm. My eyes widened as he inspected it. "This is bad," he tells me, as if I didn't know that. "Why did you do this?"

I look back at Cameron, who now looked crestfallen, which made me feel so much worse. I bit my lip and glanced away again. "I—I don't know—I felt like I had to?" I said, feeling as if I could cry.

"Give me your razor."

I clutched my razor tightly. Cameron noticed that.

"I am asking you to hand it over on your own free will before I use force."

I look at him. He looked stern. I stood up. "Sorry," I muttered and then tried to run past him, only for him to quickly wrap his arms around me and pick me up from the floor.

This did not go as plan. I still refused to let go of my only way to cope, though. Without it... I'll be so lost. I need this now more than ever.

"Alexa, one more chance. Or not only will I take the razor, I will tell everyone."

Oh. He should have led with that.

I surrendered my razor and he took it, dropping me to the ground.

He looked at the razor. And then at me. He swallowed. "Do you have any more?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "That was my last one," I answered truthfully.

Cameron sighs. "Are you addicted?"

"Huh?"

"Addicted, Alexa. Are you? Can I trust that you won't try this again given the chance, or do I need to treat you like a baby?"

My face heated up in embarrassment. "I—I'll stop..." That's the same thing I had told Elliot, and did I stop? Well, yes, but then I started up again.

Cameron sighs again and wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly. "Can I trust you?"

I closed my eyes, burying my face in his shirt, tears prickling at my eyes. I nodded. If I had started this habit, when it was just me and my dad, no one would have cared enough to stop me.

I don't know if that's a blessing or a curse.

I stare at him. "So you won't tell?"

"Maybe," Cameron says. "I might have to tell Zach, though—don't give me that look! He's just as responsible of you as I am. It's like our how parents tell each other about their kids and shit."

"This is different because you're my brothers, not my parents," I tell him. "Please don't—I don't want too many people knowing. Please."

Cameron looked at me. I tried to give him my best puppy dog eyes. "I'll think about it, okay?" He stared at my arm and then the razor. "No, I'm not taking that chance. Zach!" He yells out his brother's name as he rushes out.

My heart dropped.

I quickly put a jacket on and rushed after Cameron, but he was already with Zach.

"What is up with you guys..." Zach asked, confused.

Cameron held up the razor. Zach looked confused for a moment.

"Cameron, please—" I begged, tears falling from my eyes.

"Sorry, Alexa."

"Alexa, what's wrong?" Zach asked. "Cameron, why do you have a razor—is that blood?"

Cameron spoke up before I could say anything.

"Our little sister was cutting herself with this."