I Fear I Might Break

Crystal threw her body onto mine. I pushed her off roughly.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

"I came to see you, silly," she giggled.

Oh, that giggle.

"I don't want to see you," I said.

"You know you missed me," she hugged me again.

Our bodies pressed against each other. Heat spread through my stomach. Multiple eyes burned into my back. Crystal pushed her lips against mine.

I couldn't pull away. My mind had missed her for so long and now she was here, wanting me back. Still, kissing her didn't feel right. Footsteps ran from the scene.

"Hayley, come back," Octave yelled.

Hayley.

I shoved Crystal to the ground.

"Hayley," I yelled, running after her.

I caught up with her as she started walking up the steps to the bus. I grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop.

"Hayley," I started.

"Don't talk to me. Is that Crystal? Is that your type? Big boobs and a tiny waist. I should have known. I came out for you. I publicly embarrassed myself for you. You didn't have the decency to tell me that you still love your ex. No, you lied about it. Never talk to me again," Hayley pulled her wrist from my hold.

"I don't love her, Hayley," I said.

She laughed.

"I'm so fucking sure," she turned and walked onto her bus.

I fell on the cement, pulling my knees to my chest.

"Honey?" Crystal's sickly sweet voice attacked my ears.

"Fuck you," I spat.

She looked taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

I stood, "You made me fuck up the best thing that could ever happen in my life. That girl in that bus is the most amazing person ever. She likes me for who I am. Imperfections and all."

"But you have me now. She is so flat chested."

"Go to hell and rot," I stormed away.

"Are you happy now," I could hear Octave yell.

I swear I could hear her answer "yes."

I walked onto the bus, one goal in mind: cutting. Feet stomped against the carpet, leading me to my bunk. The curtain was shoved back; the backpack sitting innocently on the mattress forced open; a tiny box extracted from it. I walked into the bathroom of the bus, the box in hand. The door was locked behind me, securing my personal sin from the outside world. I opened the box. Fingers reached in, taking a razor blade delicately in their hold. I held it up, the light bouncing off it.

I deserve this.

I placed the razor against my skin with my good hand, pushing it onto the skin of the upper part of my half-cast arm. The blade dragged across the skin. Blood peaked from the wound but didn't drip down my arm.

I have to do worse.

Again and again, I placed the razor to my skin, each cut coming out deeper than the last. The bus door slid open, drawing me from mutilation. Footsteps hit against the steps and carpet.

"Sin," Octave called.

"What?" I yelled back.

His footsteps walked toward the bathroom.

"Where are you?" he called.

"Bathroom," I answered.

"Get out of there right now," panic filled his tone.

I looked at the blood dripping down my arm and on my cast.

"No," I yelled.

"Stop being stubborn and get out of there or, so help me god, I will break down that door."

"Never."

"I know what you're doing in there. Sin, we have a sound check to get to. Please, come out and let me or Nurse bandage your arm."

"Fine," I sighed.

I unlocked the door, pushing it open. Octave stood in the doorway, arms crossed. His eyes landed on my arm, face immediately becoming pale.

"I have to take you to Nurse," he said.

Octave's hand took hold of mine. I didn't fight as he led me from the bus and to the stage. Eyes glanced around. It had been set up exactly like last performance. Eyes landed on the carrot microphone. I choked back a sob.

"Nurse, you need to bandage her up," Octave stated, directing the band's attention to us.

Nurse turned from talking to Pete to look at us. Her mouth dropped in shock, closing quickly.

"Sit down," she commanded.

I did as she said, taking a seat on the edge of the stage. Nurse pulled her medical bag onto the stage, digging the necessary materials out. She cleaned the cuts, making me wince in pain. Her eyes examined them.

"I need to give you stitches," she stated.

"Fine," I grumbled.

Those fucking hurt.

The carrot microphone was held in front of my face. Eyes looked up at its holder. Octave smiled down at me.

"Here, we'll do sound check while you get stitches," he said.

I nodded, taking hold of the microphone. The music started and I spaced out. I sang the words I had written so long ago, ignoring the pain of a needle sewing my wounds together. We finished within minutes. The rest of the band set up what they needed backstage. I sat on the stage examining the white medical tape wrapped around my arm. The blood from the wound still stained my pink cast.

"Get back stage," commanded Nurse.

I walked behind the curtain and sat against the wall to wait for the start of the concert. Hayley's image filled my mind.

I can't believe I fucked up so bad. I mean I didn't even do anything. Crystal had to fucking kiss me in front of her. Damn it. Now I'll never get Hayley back. Now I'll never have happiness. At least I know I really don't love Crystal.

"Time to go on," Octave said.

I stood running onto the stage.

"Hey, everyone," Octave yelled into his mic.

The crowd yelled back in response.

"Sin's having a bit of a bad day so give her a little slack if she starts crying," Octave said.

The crowd aw'd.

"How about we start this fucking concert with some amazing music?" he yelled.

The crowd screamed.

Drums began the song, setting the beat. Guitars and bass started, yet the music didn't pump through me with any form of vigor. I felt dead, singing as a zombie on stage. Our set ended in what seemed to be seconds. We thanked the crowd and walked back stage.

"I'm going to the bus," I said.

"I'll come with you," Octave stated. "See you guys in a bit," he bid the rest of the band farewell.

"Bye. Don't do anything dangerous," Mina said.

"I'll make sure she doesn't," Octave assured them.

"Good. We can't almost lose her again," Damien said.

"I'm standing right here," I told them.

Octave laughed to himself, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and leading me to the bus. I leaned my head on his shoulder as we walked.

"It will be okay. Things have a way of working out," he whispered.

"I hope so," I mumbled.

We walked up the steps of the bus. I sat at the table in front of the laptop, turning it on.

"What are you doing?" asked Octave.

"Livejournaling."

He chuckled. "You're always the one who updates that."

"I can't help it."

He shook his head, turning his attention to his phone.

Texting the band, I assume.

My fingers flew over the keyboard, thoughts pouring onto the computer screen for fans to see.

Hey, guys. It's Sin. Things aren't going so well today. As most of you know, the interview today was extremely personal for us. I have yet to find out how the interviewer found out about everything. For those of you who didn't get to see it, let me sum it up: the interviewer asked about some rumors going around about our past employments and the things we've done to our bodies, as well as the disorders we're facing. It was difficult to admit to all it but its whatever. I hope you guys don't hate us now that you know. We're here still for those of you with problems or who just want to talk.
Things with Hayley went from awesome to fucking horrible in seconds. My ex-girlfriend came to see me when I didn't want to see her and she kissed me in front of Hayley. In short: Hayley hates me, I want to go die.
I'm currently wallowing in self-pity and stitched wounds.
Hope you all had a better day.
~Sin St. James

I clicked the post button and turned the laptop back off. Octave's phone rang.

"Hello?" he answered it.

"I'm going to bed," I said, walking to the back of the bus.

He nodded and continued talking to the person on the other end. I lay in my bunk on top of the blanket.

"Hayley started crying?" my brother yelled.

I'm sorry.