I Fear I Might Break

The locked bus loomed over my head, Asylum Inc. written on the side in large looping letters. A picture of sponge bob square pants wearing a straight jacket is drawn large in the corner. Underneath it the words "Have fun on tour. With love, Hayley Williams" in rainbow block letters.

I am such a bitch.

My forehead slammed roughly against the outside of the bus.

How could I?

I slammed my forehead against the bus again, this time harder than the last.

I don't deserve to live.

Pain shot up my arm as I threw it against the bus.

Poor Hayley.

My arm slammed against one of the cement blocks in the parking lot, a loud snap resonating in the air. I fell limp to the ground.

"I thought I was the one with stereotypic movement disorder," taunted a voice.

"I can't feel it, Octave," I stared at my arm.

"We need to get you to a doctor," he kneeled beside me.

"Is she still crying?"

"Sin, what you said was wrong and it hurt her a lot. But you can still go in there, explain why you said what you said, and tell her how sorry you are."

"I can't do that."

"Why?"

I looked into his abnormal purple eyes, "Because I'm a horrible person. I don't deserve to live. I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't deserve to be in this band. I don't deserve to be as far as I am. I should have died the first time."

His arm rested on my shoulder. "Don't say any of that ever again. It's not true... Okay, maybe you were supposed to die, but Mina and I donated blood to give to you so that you wouldn't leave us. Do you know why? Because you're a great sister and a great band mate, a little frustrating at times, but you're still great. You don't think before you act and you're determined to hurt the people who care about you. You're flawed, wow. So is the rest of the population. You hurt yourself for who knows what reason and suicide attempts for you are part of a monthly ritual. It is okay. Go say you're sorry."

"No."

"Well, it doesn't matter because the doctor who is going to be on tour with us is in there," he lifted me by my good arm, "Let's go."

"You're hurting me."

"Oh, so you can feel that, but you can't feel a possibly broken arm?"

"It's not broken. Just sprained."

"You're an idiot."

"Thank you."

Lazily, we began walking up the endless parking lot to get into the hotel.

"You know, we need to talk to Nurse about this whole thing. Keeping your blades from you doesn't help because you do it anyway," he looked toward my arm. "And you tend to do it worse than what you would do with a blade."

Realization dawned. "I have my blades with me," I blurted, quickly covering my mouth once the statement was out in the open.

A chuckle came from my older brother. "So you forget you have them and hurt yourself with a cement block? I know I said that you're an idiot before, but this just proves it."

"So, you're not going to yell at me?"

"I already knew you had them."

Surprise?

"How?"

"I checked the medicine cabinet above the sink before we left and they were gone. You need an original hiding spot."

"Why didn't you tell?"

"I figured that you would find a way to get hurt if you really wanted to. I can't force you to stop, but I can plead."

Oh.

"Its times like these that I'm glad that all I have to do is take a medicine and both of my disorders are partially taken care of," he said after a few seconds of silence passed.

A grunt escaped the confines of my throat.

"Are you going to say you're sorry?" he asked.

"Absolutely not. What do you take me for, a human with a conscience?"

"But you actually cared earlier."

"That's because I didn't mean to make her cry. When I see her, I won't be able to hold back."

"And that's because...?"

"There's just something about her."

We entered the building and stopped in front of the door to the ball room.

"She's in there ya know," he said.

"I know."

"The doctor's in there, too."

"I'll just have to ignore her... Or we could avoid the doctor all together. Everyone must hate me. I told off America's sweet heart."

"She's not America's sweet heart."

"She is in my mind."

"Goodness you are moody."

Octave pulled open the door. Music danced lightly in the air, swirling with the sweet aroma of food.

"Edward and Damien must be having a hell of a time dealing with the food issues."

"Where is the doctor?"

His eyes traveled the room. A laugh was the reply.

"What?"

"Damien is flirting with the doctor," he pointed toward our table.

"Isn't he afraid of doctors?"

My body walked behind his.

"She's looking at you."

"Octave, don't tell me that."

The doctor was pulled onto the dance floor with some blonde girl. Damien looked up as we reached the table.

"Why does there have to be food?" he asked wide eyed.

"Take it like a man," replied Octave.

"I'm going to be sick."

"Where's Edward?"

"Stuffing his face, throwing up, then coming back to stuff his face again. The cycle repeats."

"Nurse isn't doing anything about it?"

"She just found out."

"Edward is screwed."

"So am I once she finds out I haven't eaten in three weeks."

"Go eat."

He shrugged staring out into space. "How's Sin?"

"Ask her yourself. She's right here," my shield moved.

"What happened to your arm?" Damien moved back slightly in his chair.

"She forgot she had her blades and beat herself up."

"You need to see a doctor."

"You were flirting with him a while ago," pointed out Octave.

"That was John."

"That's the doctor."

Damien's hazel eyes widened.

"What happened to your arm?" asked "John" the doctor, butting into the conversation.

"You lying skank!" Damien yelped and ran to the bathroom.

Awkward silence.

"Anyway... We... er... I think she broke her arm," answered Octave, running a hand through his hair. "Could you check it out?"

"Sure. Let's go to the lobby. We might gross out the crowd."

Doctor John led the way toward the exit.

"Hayley, leave her alone," we overheard Mina say

"No," Hayley replied.

The fiery red head walked up to us, stopping us in our tracks.

"What happened?" Hayley asked.

What the hell?

Vocal cords refused to work in sheer hate of the person standing before them.

"Okay, I get that you detest me. I'll go die if that's what you really want. By the way, what you said really did upset me. But right now, I'm more worried about you. You left for about two hours, you're band member went to get you and now you have a bone poking up in your skin. Seriously, what happened?"

Goodness, she's gorgeous... I mean, I hate her...

"Go to hell," I said.