Riley
I couldn't stop thinking about Victoria's blades all weekend. I hadn't had another panic attack, thankfully, but I couldn't help the aching in my chest and the shaking of my hands as I contemplated what I should do.
I could always tell someone, but even though I knew that it seemed right, it was an asshole thing to do. Skylar was constantly making me promise not to tell anyone, though I came close to it quite a few times. Victoria would hate me for it. But then again, where was Skylar now? Lying in a hole two-feet-wide and six-feet-deep.
I had to make sure that I didn't treat her any differently. Unless you're seeking attention, the last thing that you want is for someone to know what happened/is happening to you. That is the exact reason that I don't tell people things. Victoria and Robin were the only two people who knew that my brother was dead, and Victoria was the only one who knew how he died, though Robin may have concluded that the "scars" I was talking about had something to do with it. Luckily, I was able to switch schools after it happened.
I can't deal with all of the shit that follows. I absolutely hate it. The sympathetic eyes and pitying gestures grow stale and irritating. Suddenly, I was no longer: Riley Evans, math wiz and hockey star. I was: Riley Evans, the girl whose brother jumped off a bridge.
Nobody wants to be remembered that way. Once everybody knows, nobody ever looks at you the same, again. They will always remember what happened to you, not who you are. You're just a pretty face with a sad story.