Do You Know Your Enemy, Darling?

-----{Skylar's POV}-----

I sat down on the couch on the bus. Joe had taken Dillon inside to cool down and Jackson had followed. I sat there and cried into my hands. Something I needed badly. I couldn't stand all this stress. First, he tries to rape me. He's fine, he tries to rape me again and we're fighting. I swore I'd never end up in this kind of relationship ever again, but I did. I wasn't even sure if we were in a relationship. For all I know, it was just a one time thing. It may have all been a trick. Maybe all three boys were tricking us for some unknown reason.

I sobbed and looked at my beeping phone. Dillon.

From: Dillon
Are you okay?"

I groaned. Not wanting to reply. I didn't want anybody to talk to, I just wanted to be all alone. Curl into a little ball and die crying. I wanted to shoot myself in the head and let it all be over with. I mean, my life can only get worse. I couldn't remember a time were I was happy for more than a few days. And that had been when my "best friend" moved away because I didn't have a shadow anymore.

I sat there and wondered why I'd even been born. Nobody wanted me. My dad left me and my mom when I was nine, and she raised me myself. The reason my dad left? He liked me. No, I mean he liked me. He loved to make me do certain things I hated. I slowly learned to love those things, that's why I was so messed up as a younger teen. My mom never stopped it. She found out after two years. Then my dad left, thinking she'd call the cops. No, she let him do it. She thought I liked it too much. I did, kind of.

Then I realized what it did to me. I started cutting at age eleven. Deep, long cuts over my legs and my rib cage. I loved the feeling. I loved to taste my own blood. It felt amazing in my mouth. I loved the feeling of hurting myself. Of course, my mom never found this out. I continued to cut until I had been fifteen. I stopped when I thought I had the most amazing boyfriend. I'd also already been sex-crazed and scars all over my body. I told people I had been a dare devil.

I finally clicked the center button that had a big Reply on it.

To: Dillon
Yeah, just need rest

I laid my head on my pillow and cried into it. Letting my black and brown messy make up mess up the blue-ish pillow. At this moment I hadn't cared. I wish I had a mom to go to. I couldn't tell my mom anything. She never cared. She wouldn't care now.

I could call my dad. Sure, he came back into my life on my sixteenth birthday, but I hated going over there. Yeah, I was abused, too. By my mom. By boyfriends. By friends. By everybody. Why had I only been crying now? Why, at this moment, was every feeling coming to me? It's as if I had been reliving my whole life right then.

I stood up and walked into the buses bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I turned towards the mirror. My face covered in make up. Red. And tears still rolling down it like a stream. My hair was a mess from my tears and the fact it was already dried from the shower earlier.

"You dirty, filthy whore!" I yelled at myself. My face turning more red from the anger now rushing through my slim body. "You've always messed shit up, why are you even still alive? Huh!? You bitch! You allowed him to rape you, you allowed your dad to do those things, not telling your mother. And when you did, she didn't care. You matter to no one!" I screamed. My voice cracked a little.

I took the blade I kept in my pocket. Four whole months without cutting. And it's all about to go down the toliet. I pressed the blade to my skin and pressed down hard. I let out a whine, and then a sigh of relief as the blood slipped down my wrist, and onto the floor. Little drops at a time. I smirked, feeling the pain hit me. No tears of pain, still tears of saddness.

I looked back into the mirror. "You stupid little bitch," I muttered. "That's what he called you? 'You stupid little bitch!' Well, he was right. I am a fucking whore. A bitch. A skank! A mother fucker! Or man fucker.." I sighed. This is why I'd gotten my own place. One reason. I yelled at myself many times a day, hoping to get stronger. Tonight it helped, but the tears kept coming.

I pressed the blade to my skin once more. More blood oozed out and a few drops landing on the floor.

I cleaned off the blade and stuck it back into my jeans pocket. I cleaned myself up. Rubbing most of my make up off and the blood from my wrist. I also cleaned up the floor a little. Throwing it into the trash can, I felt a little weak. But I passed it off and walked out of the bus.

I opened the door and peeked out. Nobody was on. I rushed out of the bathroom and into the building. I tip toed down the hallway to find Dillon and Joe. I couldn't find them in his dressing room, so I walked to the stage.

"Hello?" I called. No answer. I realized I never covered up my arm and snuck over to Jackson's room. I left my fingerless gloves in here. They'd cover it. "Yo..?" I whispered. No answer. I slipped in and over to the couch. I noticed them right away and picked them up. I slipped one of them over the cuts and the other I stuffed into my pocket. Making it look like a dick in there, but I shrugged it off.

"What are you doing?" I turned around to see Joe standing in the door way.

"I.. uhh.." I stuttered.

He chuckled and walked in. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. We were actually looking for you."

"We?"

"Me and Dillon an--" He stopped himself.

I sighed and crossed my arms. "Why would he look for me?"

"He wants to make it up." Joe stated. "Sky, he knows what he did was wrong. We all know. But we also know that he loves you loads. Won't you give him a chance?"

I groaned. Was everybody against me?!

"JOE! JOSEPH!" I heard Dillon, she sounded worried and scared.

We both ran out of Jackson's dressing room and into the hall. Dillon was trying her best to run over but it wasn't working so well. We ran over to her, which made me feel weaker. But I could hold it.

"Zoey.." She huffed.

"What about her?" I asked.

"She's in the hospital!"