BLEAK

Chapter Seventeen

17

Groaning, I rolled out of bed and slapped the alarm clock OFF. That beep was enough to drive me insane before even going to school.

Like always, I managed to land on my feet and squinted a bit, getting used to the light.

"God, you're really not a morning person, are you?" A soft voice chuckled from the floor.

"Shut up," I growled, rubbing my eyes and seeing Cayden sprawled on the floor. "You'd better get dressed, stat. Oh, and you're not walking with me and Brooke either."

Cayden gasped. "Why not?"

"You live on the other side of the school, I'd rather not have pregnancy rumours circulating just yet." I snapped before opening the door and basically stomping down the stairs, Cayden's laughter following me.

After Cayden meeting my parents, he left around eight that night, taking Callie's clothes with him. From speaking to my family, they all loved him. Even Mum had forgiven the make-out session she had walked in on. Though Elliot was being slightly sour, probably as I'd worked out his deal with Olivia.

Then, two hours after I'd been in my room, Cayden's stupidly adorable face popped up at my window. How he'd gotten round the back of the house and then climbed up to my bedroom, I had no idea.

He'd claimed that he'd stay for the night then go in the early morning.

I sighed and walked into the kitchen, careful not to see my reflection. I'd rather not know what Cayden saw this morning.

Turning the tap on, I drank two cups of water before slamming it down in anger on the counter.

Letting out another animal-like groan, I walked back upstairs to my bedroom. Cayden had moved onto the bed.

"Cayden! Go home and get ready for school!" I whisper-shouted. My parents still didn't know he was here.

"Why go home when I can watch you getting dressed?" He teased, winking at me. "Besides, I don't normally get up for another half-an-hour."

I rolled my eyes and pulled the hair band out of my messy bun I had thrown it in, then taking the brush and de-tangling my whole head. Quickly, I shoved it into a high-ponytail.

"Cayden, seriously. Get out," I said again, walking towards my wardrobe and getting my uniform out. Trousers were the choice for today.

"No," He answered happily.

Sighing, I grabbed the white shirt, black trousers, black socks, underwear and white bra and headed towards the bathroom where I could also brush my teeth.

"Aw! Come on!" He whined.

"I'll be back in five, don't miss me too much," I said, rolling me eyes again before getting into the bathroom to get dressed.

- May be triggering, I'm not sure. Read at own risk once it comes to italic text or just skip to the next chapter. Important things will be reiterated later on. -

School passed without many incidents. Cayden, thank God, had decided it would be wise to leave me alone tonight, maybe just a text or seven.

With a sigh, I opened my laptop and typed in the password quickly. I hadn't used my laptop in ages as most of the sites I used were able to be used whilst on my phone.

Quickly, I grabbed my phone - ignoring Cayden's texts - and logged on to Spotify then hooking it up to the Bluetooth speaker that I'd found after it being lost for nearly a year.

Next thing I knew, Rita Ora's voice rang out with Poison. I smiled slightly before bringing up the Personal Files section on my laptop.

I knew what I was doing was stupid. So stupid, in fact, that Elliot - King of Stupidness - wouldn't even think about doing what I was planning to do. Everything had been going so well, I didn't want to risk sinking into the pit again, but, even so, I wanted to see; to look.

There was no gaurentee what I'd do. As it was ten o'clock on a Monday night, everyone would be downstairs, so being caught wouldn't really be much of a possibility.

Everyone thought I was okay.

My fingers grazed the keyboard and my old Word Document was brought up.

Once I had realised - aged fourteen - that most people knew about my 'issues', I knew I couldn't risk being spotted with the trademark scars.

With this in mind, I created a Document holding all my thoughts and feelings. I found it a good way to let out emotion, but not do something so drastic that everyone would know.

During these 'episodes' where I'd write down everything that came to mind, pondering the meaning of my life, I had typed what It felt like. What the presence was like. The main reason was to give people around me an idea so they could try and grasp how awful I felt all the time.

After scanning many paragraphs including a few about the beauty of my friends; how I was a first-class loner in primary school; how unwanted and stupid I am, I came to the paragraph I had wanted to see.

When I had composed it, I hadn't realised the light from the screen was showing under my door due to everywhere being pitch black. Mum had walked in, curious, and I had closed the lid, not remembering if I had saved it or not.

My eyes lit up when I saw it there, staring at me right in the face in all its haunted glory:

Depression...

What is it?

Well... Let me explain if you've never felt it's presence.

It's like you're fine one minute, perfectly happy. Then you start to think and that's where everything goes wrong. Suddenly... Everything's bad. Thoughts chase each other round your head... "UGLY!" "WORTHLESS!" "FAT!" "STUPID!" Shout your head. Normally... Insults are taken without hesitation... Your armour protecting you. Then something happens... Depression arrives. It wears a black cloak, sucking happiness away. All of a sudden... Depression wraps It's cloak around you... As if protecting you. Then It draws away... And you realise your armour has been removed... Stolen by Depression. Now, when insults get shouted, they don't bounce off your armour... Instead, they hit you. Bruises come and cuts form. Depression laughs at how weak you are. Then you're falling... Walls closing in around you. There's two ways out... Sit through it and come out the other side... Or grab the sharp object on the floor, cutting yourself free. Not the walls though. No. Yourself...

My heart was almost torn open just looking at it, having it all up in my face made it even harder to think straight. Even though I had written it, I couldn't believe how well it summed me up. It was scary, I had been so young writing it.

Maybe I did need help.

But what was the point? My thirteen-year-old self needed help, not the fifteen-year-old version. I couldn't go back in time and change how I'd dealt with it; it wasn't possible.

I brought my knees up to my cheeks, my chest hurting with an added pressure I couldn't describe.

My breathing shallowed and tears sprang into my eyes. It hurt so much to relive everything I had tried to forget and get over. But, now, it was all being brought back to life.

I reached around for my phone and unlocked it.

Trying to ignore my blurred vision, I brought the phone to my ear.

"Lauren?" A muffled voice asked.

"Can we meet up, please?"

"Have you been crying?" The voice pressed on.

I sighed as tears rolled down my face.

"Ricky's?"

"Mm," I could only manage the noise before I hung up.