Sundays were never good days for me. Whether it was anxiety or something that felt an awful lot like depression, there was always something in my head that made me want to stay in bed all day.
So when Michael left the dance studio, I went back to my dorm with the intention of doing just that. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers over my head, playing sad songs through my headphones and shaking, ready to cry. Broken Home came on, and suddenly I was gone. Tears poured from my eyes and I sobbed noiselessly. Every note, every word made me cry harder, and I didn't want to stop. I was strangely content in my bubble of sadness, with just darkness, music, and my own twisted mind to keep myself company. I knew Grace was out for the day with people from her course, and having seen Michael in the morning I figured he wouldn't be too pushy to see me again.
The music kept playing but I stopped being able to hear it. I was sure I wasn't having a panic attack, so when I heard the voices I wasn't surprised.
you know what to do flora
There were multiple voices talking but they weren't all speaking at the same time, so it sounded almost as if they were hissing, or echoing each other.
do it
And I followed their instructions again. I walked to the bathroom and did what I'd promised Ashton I wouldn't.
As I sat on the cold, tiled bathroom floor looking at the blood seeping through the tissues on my wrist, I closed my eyes and started crying again. I shoved my wrist under the cold tap, watching as the water flushed the blood away, then bandaged myself up. I grabbed my phone and texted Ashton.
I'm sorry
I turned my phone off and started watching some trashy show on the TV. After about half an hour, there was a knock at the door.
"Please let me in Flora," came Ashton's voice, and I sighed. I went and opened the door to see him sloppily dressed, his hair a mess, leaning on the door frame. He took the sight of me in. "Oh, thank God you're alright." I looked at him blankly. "You're not alright, what am I saying?" He walked in and sat me on the bad. He unwrapped the bandage and looked at the wounds I had inflicted on myself.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "Please don't tell Michael."
"They're bad Flora," he sighed. "We need to get them stitched up." I shook my head frantically. "Why not?"
"I don't like hospitals." My voice was hoarse as the memories flooded through me. Waking up to see my mum crying at the foot of my bed, Matty and Toby looking at me sadly. So many different medication combinations flowing through my veins. The awkwardness of seeing the therapist every day. I shook my head again.
"I need you to be safe," Ash said. "Come on, please Flora." I gave him a tiny nod, giving in. I pulled a hoodie on and he led me out to his car. He made sure I was comfortable then drove, not too quickly but not too slowly, to the hospital. He took me into the waiting room, leaving me shivering in a chair as he went and spoke to a receptionist. He came and sat next to me and allowed me to rest my head in his lap. We were silent for a little while until he spoke softly. "Why did you do it Flora? You were doing so well."
"Sad." My one word answer seemed to show him that I didn't want to talk, and he stayed quiet. My name was called, and we followed a doctor through to a room.
"What seems to be the problem today, Miss Lighthawk?" I looked to Ashton to answer for me.
"She's harmed herself quite badly, and I think she needs stitches," he said. The doctor nodded, taking my wrist gently.
"I'm Janice, okay?" I nodded. She examined the cuts and shook her head. "We will need to put sutures in this." She left the room, and I turned my head into Ashton's shoulder, crying quietly.
"Shh, Flora, it's going to be okay," he said. "Michael doesn't need to know." Janice returned with a box and sterile gloves. She sewed the cuts shut, dressed the wounds, and gave me a useless leaflet on self-harm. I threw it in the bin as soon as I was out of her sight. I'd seen the exact same thing ten years before, and if it hadn't helped me then, it wasn't going to help me now. Ashton drove me back to my dorm, dropping me off with a tub of ice cream and a promise to check on me soon, then left me again.
*Michael's POV*
Ashton ran in, half an hour late to our band practice. I looked at him like what the fuck, dude but stopped as soon as I saw his face. He looked awful, like he'd been crying. I noticed he'd thrown on presumably the first clothes he'd found and his hear was a bird's nest, not at all like him. I frowned, but decided to wait until later to ask him.
"We're running She's Kinda Hot," I told him, and he nodded, sitting down at his drum set. He picked up his sticks and tapped out a beat, and we launched into the song. He missed his line, looking distracted, and Luke swore.
"What the fuck is happening, Ash? You can't rock up late to rehearsals then miss your line!"
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Rough day." I shook my head. We ran the song again, and he got his line, but went straight back to absent-mindedly hitting the drums as soon as he was done. Luke ended the band practice there, clearly pissed off, and he and Cal left the room.
"What's going on, man? You never act like this," I said, and he sighed. I could tell from the way he held his body what I was about to hear wasn't going to be good. Shit.
*****
hello
three updates in one day wow lauren
i was kinda sad and writing sad chapters helps apparently so be prepared for this book to make you cry soz
song of the chapter: LA devotee by panic!