In all my life, with all the struggles I had faced, never had it been so difficult for me to get up in the morning. My convalescence officially at an end, I had no choice but to attend school today - they were expecting me. I grimaced at the mere thought of going in. Austen would be there, with his not-so-little pack of followers, taunting me at every chance they get.. And, of course, Gerard and the guys. I had no idea how to approach the situation. Would Gerard want to see me? Would the others want anything to do with me? Were they still interested in keeping our friendship? Or had it dissolved along with mine and Gerard's relationship? Even if they still cared enough to remain friends with me, there was something so very wrong about hanging out with my ex-boyfriend's group of friends, especially when he would be there, too. By the time I was dressed and ready, I had just about resolved to avoid all human contact for the day, to sit alone in class and spend my lunch break in the library. Unsurprisingly, I wasn't particularly looking forward to the upcoming day, but I didn't have a choice. I slung my bag and tried to act more confident than I actually felt - I'm not sure how well I succeeded in that. I could feel a slight tremble in my hands as I got closer to the school gates, and I balled my hands into tight fists, clenching them so tight my nails dug into my palms painfully. Sighing, I hurried in. I earned several stares as I walked through the corridors to my locker, a few of the meaner glares from people I recognised as from the group who beat me up. I met one familar pair of eyes - Frank, who looked as if he desperately wanted to approach me. I threw him a quick, sad smile, then turned away and began to weave faster through the halls, getting myself lost in the crowd so Frank couldn't come to me. I made it to my locker without incident, and swiftly tossed my jacket and retrieved my books. I made it to first class before anyone else, and slid into my seat. I leant forward and let my hair hide as much of my face as possible. I began to feel the slightest bud of hope that I might survive the day, but it was soon squashed at the arrival of a large group of students, with Austen at the lead. As soon as he spotted me, a hige smirk spread over his face. He walked - or rather strutted - over to me, and perched lazily on the edge of my desk. "Well, well, well, look who it is! Krissy, still breathing then? Such a waste. But hey, at least I have something to do after school now!" And he walked away, leaving his barely-concealed threat hanging in the air behind him. I shuddered. He walked back to his friends and said something, which had them all laughing and looking over at me. I glared down at the desk and was surprised at the tears in my eyes. I'd faced much, much worse than this from peopl before, and usually I could let it bounce off my defences. But today, I felt exposed, my walls down. Everything that had happened, had beaten me. I rose from my seat suddenly, conscious that the lesson would begin soon but not really caring. I left the room with a trail of whispers and comments following me. I headed straight for the girl's toilets, only to find it full of taller, sexier girls, chatting and laughing and working on their appearances. I spun around and dashed straight back out through the still-open door. I ran, tears still streaming, out the main doors and round to the side of the building, where I sat heavily on the ground against the wall. I curled my knees up into my chest, and stared at the ground. The grass was slightly damp and soaking into my clothes, but I barely acknowledged it. Almost without realising, I began to dig my nails into my wrist. That felt... good. I began to press harder, scratching up and down my forearm. Most of the cuts had turned to scars, but there were a few, the deeper ones, that broke open with the force I'd used on them. It stung fiercely, but in a strange way I felt relief, like I'd missed the painful sensation in my arms. I'd forgotten just how this felt. I stopped scratching after a while and just stared at my bloody forearm. I knew I should regret it, but I couldn't find that in me. My thoughts strayed to Gerard, the reason I had gone so long without harming myself, and only then did the guilt surface, slightly. But I squashed it. Gerard didn't care for me, I told myself sternly. This doesnt concern him. "I'm on my own now," I whispered the words with a strange mix of fear and freedom.

Notes

I'm having difficulty with these new formatting options so I'm not sure how this looks...