ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ✓

F I F T Y - T W O

Does he truly care? Or is this just an act? Either way, I didn't want to tell him what happened with the only friends that I had, so I'll keep that to myself.

"Cameron," I said, "I don't... Want to... Talk about it. Please."

"Was it your... Boyfriend?" Cameron said, his tone hard and cold. "Fucking hell, I'll kill him..."

My eyes widened. "No! It wasn't him, I swear it! Just drop it, please."

Cameron gritted his teeth. "I'll gather the others and we can hang out. To cheer you up."

"Sure, thank you," i said, forcing a smile onto my face.

But my heart still felt so heavy.

•••

Hanging out with my step brothers were interesting. It didn't help, though. I want my friends. Or the people that used to be my friends.

But I didn't get what I wanted.

A week went by, Elliot, Michael and Jackson have just ignored me. Benny talks to me, and Ryder, Ethan and Blake try, but I push them away.

Everyone except Benny has been asking what happened between me and those boys. I never gave an answer.

Now that I didn't have those three protecting me, people started bullying me.

Punches. Kicks. Slaps.

They hurt. So much. But not as much as my heart still continued to hurt.

I cried every night that week, wondering what was wrong with me.

Why I wasn't good enough.

At the end of the week, on Friday, I was thankful to be home. School was hell for me and I was thankful to have a two day break.

I went up to my room, ignoring Cameron who tried talking to me from the living room.

Tears leaked from my eyes as I fell to the floor. Why can't I just get over this pain?

I wiped my eyes, standing up, my vision being blurry for a second.

I sniffle and left my room and headed to the bathroom.

I went inside and locked the door.

I stared at myself in the mirror, my face blotchy with tears. My eyes were red. I looked ugly and fat.

I tilted my head and looked at the bathtub, my face being void of emotion.

There was a razor on the side of the bathtub.

Transfixed, I stared at it for what felt like an eternity, but was only a minute.

I walked toward the bathtub and bent down, grabbing the razor. I held it up to my face.

I wanted to cry, but no more tears came out. I felt numb. But yet, I felt so many emotions at the same time. Despair. Rage. Abandonment.

I felt this way for so long.

I clutched the razor tightly in my hand. I stared down at my pants.

I pulled one side up, exposing my bare leg.

I stared at it. Then the razor. Then back at my leg.

I was curious.

And blinded by emotions.

The rational part of me was gone.

I took the razor and brought it to my leg. My hand trembled.

The razor blade touched my leg. My hand still trembled.

What am I doing?

I pushed down and slid the razor across my leg.

Blood trickled.

Euphoria.

That's what I felt.

I watched the dark red substance slide down my leg, and a smile crept onto my face.

I let out a giggle.

Am I going insane?

I didn't care.

I slid the razor across my leg again. More blood. Watching blood pour from my skin, that I had made happen, fascinated me.

I slid the razor across my leg a third time.

Even more blood.

I felt euphoric.

But then their was a knock on the bathroom door, and it shattered.

I felt shame and guilt.

What did I do to myself?

I looked at the fresh blood with new found horror. Is there something wrong with me?

"Hey!" I hear. It's Zach. "Hurry the fuck up. I gotta piss."

"S-sorry!" I called to him, staring at my leg. Bruises were forming around the cuts. The blood wouldn't stop.

I bit my lip and pulled my pant leg down.

I stood up, a little shaky. My leg was sore. It hurt.

But then why did it feel so good?

I shook my head. What was I thinking?

I opened the bathroom door, smiling like nothing had happened.

Zach was standing there. "About time." He pushed past me as I stepped foot into the hallway.

I quickly made my way to my bedroom.

I couldn't bare to face anyone.

Not after what I had done to myself