*Scott's POV*
I did it.
I did it and I'm not ashamed.
I could go into detail and use a bunch of fancy words, but I'm just gonna make it blunt.
I cut.
Yeah, I should be setting an example for Sam, but she's done it before. She knows it's wrong.
I don't really know why I cut.
I guess just because of... things.
I went to the hospital early today.
"Sam?" I walk into her room.
Her room is empty.
A nurse walks by.
"Looking for Sam? "
"Yeah, is she okay?"
"Yes, she's moved to the fifth floor." The nurse explains.
"Thank you." I say and walk to the elevators, praying that she's okay.
I look at the floor directory in the elevator.
Floor 5: Recovery.
Thank God.
I ask the desk person for her room and knock on her door.
"Come in!" She says.
I walk inside and she smiles.
"You scared me! I thought something happened to you." I say.
"Ohhh I forgot to text you!"
"It's alright. I'm just glad you're in recovery." I say.
There's a moment of silence.
"So are you excited for your hair to grow back?" I ask, breaking the awkward silence.
"Yeah! I hope it grows back red." She says and removes her headscarf. "You're the only person that I can take this off in front of."
"How come?"
"I don't like being bald. I feel less beautiful."
"Don't you ever say that. You're always beautiful!" I say and she pretends to flip her hair.
"Why thank you. I had my last chemo last night, so my hair should start growing back soon."
"I'm glad. Not that you're not beautiful without it, but I love your hair." I say and she looks at her phone.
"Did you know that Beyonce- Scott?"
"Yeah?" I asked and looked around. "Are you okay?"
"What are those?" She pulls up my sleeve.
"Those are old..."
"No, Scott. They're not. They're fresh. You promised!"
"I know, I just-"
"You're supposed to be the responsible one here! Why did you do it?" She asks, lowering her voice at the end.
"That doesn't concern you..."
"Doesn't "concern me"? Well, obviously you don't care about what I think and how much you mean to me."
There's another silence.
"I'll just leave, then." I say quietly and get up.
"Wait! Scott, don't go. I'm sorry. It just upsets me." She yells and I turn around.
"Why does it upset you? I'm 23 years old. I can handle this."
"If you could "handle" this you wouldn't be cutting, Scott." She snaps back and I want to rage at her but I can't.
She's 15, Scott.
"Look, why don't we both just stop, okay? I don't wanna talk about this." I say calmly.
"I'm sorry." She whispers.
"For what, Sam?" I sit down.
"Cutting."
"Why are you apologizing to me? I did it too."
"Because I feel like you're my big brother in a way. My parents don't stay here, and even when you're gone, you're still protective over me."
I look her in the eyes. "I care about you. A lot. Let's just promise each other not to do it again."
"Okay. I promise."
"Good. Now what do you wanna do?" I ask and she yawns.
"Can we just sleep? I'm tired."
"Yeah. Do you want another blanket?" I ask.
"Please."
I get a blanket from the closet.
"Thank you."
"I probably won't be here when you wake up, but I'll be here around noon. I'm going to speech with Mitch, so don't worry." I say and she nods.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
*Mitch's POV*
*Next Day*
I wake up and see that Scott's not here.
Great.
I assume he's at the hospital.
I grab a bowl of cereal and sit in front of the TV.
Kirstie walks into my room.
"Hey Mitchell!"
I wave.
Kirstie pours a bowl of cereal and sits next to me.
"Where's Scooter?"
With Sam. He was supposed to go to speech with me.
"I'm sure he'll show. Do you wanna go do something today?"
Sure. I have speech in about 20 minutes.
"Cool. I'm gonna go take a shower. Want me to come to speech?"
Yeah.
Kirstie goes to take a shower and I change the TV to SpongeBob.
I text Scott and tell him that I'm going to speech with Kirstie, just in case he decides to come back to the hotel.
I miss him.
I'm worried about him, too.
He's been kind of off lately.
I hear a joke on the TV and smile at my childish sense of humor.
I pour another bowl of cereal and decide to get some clothes on.
I quickly eat my gluten-free Mini Wheats and set my bowl on the counter.
I go to my suitcase and get out a Beyonce sweatshirt and some black jeans.
I quickly change and put some wax in my hair.
Not bothering with foundation or moisturizer, I slip on some shoes just as Kirstie walks in.
"Mitchell! Are you ready?"
I nod.
"Good. Where are we meeting her?"
At the concert place.
My speech therapist, Lauren, meets up with us on tour a few times a month.
"Cool. I called a cab."
Thank g*dney for Kirstie.
I grab my phone and man-bag and we go downstairs to wait on the cab.
I'm scrolling through my Twitter mentions when Kirstie bumps my shoulder.
"You okay?"
I nod. I'm fine. Scott just seems a little off lately.
"We've noticed too. Avi was the first to say something." Kirstie says.
How are you and Avi?
"We're doing alright. I just..."
What?
"I feel like I'm the least important in the group. People say I'm pitchy and that I'm just a harmony that isn't needed."
Who said that? I say, getting angry.
"Just... people on Twitter. Don't get too upset."
Kirstie, your voice is literally perfect, okay? Don't listen to what anyone says.
"Thanks, Mitch. The cab is here!" Kirstie says and we walk out to the cab.
Kirstie tells him the address and we're on our way.
The cab ride is kind of quiet, of course, but the arena is only five minutes from the hotel.
I tip the driver and we head towards the dressing room.
"The others will meet us here later, I just texted them." Kirstie says.
Cool.
I walk into the dressing room to see Lauren already there.
"Hi Mitch! Are you ready?" She says.
Yeah.
"Awesome. I thought today we'd work on ending consonants, like diction exercises. Are you familiar with those?"
I nod.
"Okay. Let's start with a classic. Diction is done with the top of the teeth and the tip of the tongue, and the lips. Now, you try."
I hate this.
"D-d-diction is done w-with th-the t-t-tip of the tongue and the... the top of the teeth."
"Good..."
She drones on about some technical crap and then decides to record me and make me listen to it.
After being told all this crap about practicing speaking or whatever, she finally let us leave.
Kirstie and I decide to go eat.
"Wow... that's boring." Kirstie says as we get in the car.
Tell me about it.
"Well... Where do you wanna eat?"
Can we just go back to the hotel? I'm tired.
"Sure." Kirstie says and we head back towards the hotel.
When we got back, I went to my room to find Scott there.
"Hey Mitch!"
I don't say- sign anything.
"Mitchie?" He snakes his arm around my waist.
I push him away.
"Uh... okay... well I'm gonna go get you food."
I don't want food. I had speech today. You forgot.
"Speech... Mitch I'm so sorry. I was with Sam and-"
Sam! Of course. But you don't care about me.
"What? I'm your boyfriend, Mitch. I love you."
Not anymore. I say and walk out.
I go down the street to a medicine store and get some painkillers.
Except they weren't pills.
Or painkillers.
It was vodka.
And I sat on a bench.
And took my medicine.