It's funny how life works, isn't it? How it moves up and down and changes us as people. And in my case, how it goes back to the exact way it had been. It was almost like I'd never met Gerard and his friends and family. I was once again on my own, battling through life with just a blade for comfort. My eating habits had changed back, too, the little weight I'd gained slipping off me in a matter of days. But there were small marks on my life, little signs that served as proof of what I'd been through. Like the glances I sometimes intercepted from the guys - every now and then I'd catch Mikey's teary eyes, Ray's sympathetic glance, Frank's regretful stare, and very rarely, Gerard's unreadable gaze. Or my empty house, which triggered mixed feelings of loneliness and relief; It wasn't home anymore. These small changes to my life provided a constant reminder of the occurances of the past few Weeks. It was an unwelcome reminder, I wanted nothing more than to forget everything. I tried so hard to put it all behind me. I went to school everyday, avoiding human contact as much as physically possible (particularly staying away from my old friends). And then I would go home and, if I had no appointments with social workers or my counsellor, Jo, I would spend the time in my bedroom doing homework, drawing, listening to music and pretty much living a solitary existence. I cried pretty much all the time, and I cut regularly, every night. Sometimes in the day too, before I left the house in the morning or at lunch when I locked myself in a toilet cubicle. I didn't really care anymore. Who was there to care for, anyway? Just me, and my own welfare wasn't something I really bothered anymore. My life was miserable, and the idea of ending it grew in it's appeal every day. Right now, in fact, leaving this life was looking pretty attractive. I was in my art class, once my favourite class but now the most torturous. This was the one class I had with both Gerard and Austen in the same room. I didn't sit near Gerard anymore, instead I favoured a desk in the very back-left corner of the room. I angled my easel so that it blocked my view of most of the room, and I painted with a violent passion, working on whatever I was set. From one corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Austen approaching me, and a chill ran through me. Since he'd had me beaten up, he'd stayed away from me, perhaps afraid of further punishment for putting me in hospital. That fear appeared to have passed now, however, because for the first time since the incident he came over to me. He grabbed the chair from the vacant desk in front of me and flipped it around to face me. "Why hello there, Krissy," his voice was pleasant in a fake, sickly-sweet kind of way. I noticed a few heads turn towards us, people had clearly been waiting for this. In particular I noticed Gerard's hazel eyes rest on us, but I avoided  meeting them. Instead I focused on Austen. "What do you want," I asked. My voice was different, too. The emotion had gone from my speech, my words almost monotonous, so flat that my words didn't even sound like a question. He smirked. "Just wanted to see how you're doing, darling," he put heavy emphasis on the last word, attempting an imitstion of my English accent. I thought it was a poor attempt, but a few people around us laughed. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my sad excuse for a painting. He ignored that, continuing to talk. "I mean, look at you, you're a mess. Your friends have ditched you,  you don't talk to anyone, even your dad..." My head snapped up. What did he know about my family problems? An evil glint shone in his eyes. "Your dad never loved you either, did he? And now you live in that house all by yourself. The little emo freak with nobody to love, how precious." His words cut me deep, because he was right. He was making a point of how stupidly pathetic I was, and he was right. By now the classroom was silent, everyone focused on us. I glanced around frantically in search of Mrs D - pathetic or not, it was her job to stick up for me - but she wasn't around, probably off in the storeroom or something. I did catch Gerard's eyes as I looked around, he wss watching me with a strange expression, he looked... Pained? I couldn't tell for sure. I looked away from him quickly and turned my attention back to the issue at hand - namely, the asshole in front of me. "Fuck. Off." I said in a low voice. "You don't know a single fucking thing about me." He just laughed. "You'd be surprised, dear Krissy, at how much I know about you. It's amazing what I've learned, actually. You see, I have something you don't; I have friends. Friends who are perfectly willing to watch where you spend your lunch, or check out where you live. I know an awful lot." I stared at him in horror. Could he really be serious...? Something in his expression told me that yes, he could. He smirked and then his hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Before I could react, he pushed my sleeve up, baring my heavily-scarred arm in front of the entire class. There was a collective intake of breath, followed by a tirade of whispers filling the air. My cheeks burned. Austen's smile grew. "I thought so," he announced. "You know, you shouldn't leave your bag unsupervised during Gym class. One of the other girls could easily go through it." He looked over at a curvy brunette giggling in one corner. "You really are a freak, aren't you? You-" he stopped talking suddenly, and jerked bsck as if he'd been pulled. Which, I realised, he had. By a dark-haired boy with very angry hazel eyes. Gerard didn't say a word, he simply punched Austen in the stomach, making him crumple to the ground. The classroom erupted - seriously, where did the teachers go when you needed them? - and Gerard continued to hit Austen, kicking him on the ground. I noticed that, despite Austen's talk of friends, nobody exactly leapt to his defense. Gerard towered over his curled figure on the floor, and spat on him wordlessly,before looking at me. I watched wide-eyed, unable to move in my shock, anger, and complete horror. My gaze locked with Gerard's, a thousand words in his eyes. But I couldn't quite read any of them. I jumped up, suddenly pulling free of my perfectly-still position, and left the room clutching by bag, hyper-aware of the blades in my bag, the veins in my wrists, and the comforting idea of an end to everything. I was finally giving up.

Notes

I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written. We are nearing the end of this story, just a few more chapters to go! But I want to know, what do you guys think about a sequel? I have a few ideas bouncing around my skull, so if you guys want I'll do a sequel when I finish this one. Let me know what you think! As always, lots of love for all of you, and thank you for taking the time to comment. You guys are my inspiration. xx