It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing...

“We’re signing up for the Green’s contest!” I called as I stormed back into the living room, spreading out on the couch. Everyone else was spread on the floor. Tristian sat on my stomach. “No I’m not!” He sang. I shot him a glare. “Yes, we are.”

“We’ve had this discussion the whole way home, ok!? I am not going to sign up for some stupid singing contest! I got disqualified once!”

“That’s because you weren’t with me!” I said brightly. He groaned. “my God, when did you get so cocky?”

“Around the time I got to know you guys.” I said brightly, pushing at his stomach. He glared at me, wriggling so his ass dug into my stomach.

“OW! Fat ass! Get off of me!” I whined, hitting his leg. He hissed, jumping away from me and holding his leg slightly. I gasped. “God, did I hit you that hard!? I’m so sorry!” he shook his head, glaring at Freddie for some reason. “No, it’s not you. Sorry.” I shrugged.

“anyway, is the whole band going to be in the contest, or is that illegal or something?” I asked. Tristian threw his hands in the air. “I’m not going to the fucking contest!”

“If I-“ I cut off ubruptly. I was just playing the pity card, wasn’t I? constantly telling them what I went through to get what I want, I used it as a tool with them. What the hell was wrong with me to do that!?

“Sorry. I guess if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I’m going to bed. “ I said ubruptly, standing off of the couch and heading for the stairs.

“Whoa, wait, what’s wrong.” Josh said, stepping in front of me. I looked at him, raising an eyebrow. He grimaced. “Don’t give me that look. Tell me what’s wrong.” He snapped. I shot him a look again and pushed him away from me so that I could continue up the stairs, to my bedroom, locking the door this time and leaning against it a moment before heading to my bathroom. There I sat on the edge of the sink, looking down at my hands.

What the hell was wrong with me, to do that to people? I can’t go around saying things like that again. I mean, what would happen? Eventually I’d be ‘I can’t pay for my car because the guy who kidnapped me didn’t teach me how to properly keep track of my spending money’ or something. I couldn’t let that part of my life rule what I did for the rest of it. I mean, look at the guys. They walk on eggshells around me, not wanting me to break down. And I have a few times, them saying something in a certain tone of voice or listening to a certain song. I mean, it was pathetic!

“Gracie?” I heard someone call from the hallway. I poked my head out of my bathroom, still on the counter. “Go away right now, please. I just want to sleep.” I lied. I waited a moment for a response, and when I didn’t get one I almost closed the bathroom door again.

“You and I both know that’s not what you’re doing. I have a disadvantage, though, I have no idea what you’re doing.” I shook my head.

“All the same Tristian, go away.”

“Nope. You’re going to talk to me. What went through that pretty little head of yours in the two point five seconds you paused?”

“None of your concern, Tristian! Leave me alone!”

“We both know that isn’t happening.” I sighed, slamming my bathroom door. I started the shower and stripped down, ignoring Tristians obnoxious voice that was still filtering in through two doors and the shower. I realized I was out of shampoo and went under my sink to get some more. Mom always had a spare in there. I froze when I saw the mess I had left in there from this morning. I let my gaze roam the towel , surprised I could be so disconnected. I realized with only slight intrest that if my wrists hadn’t stopped bleeding when they did, I’d probably be in the hospital or dead right now. I gasped suddenly.

What the hell is wrong with me!? I couldn’t do that to the boys! Or my mom! Yeah, I started it after the flashback things started happening, but, I just… last night had been the worst. Last night had been the night he had taken me to see tiff. My nightmare in the making. I was seeing him in my flashbacks a lot lately.

And the thin lines going through my skin, slowly getting deeper and larger, going different angles as I ran out of room, it numbed me. Set the nightmares free. Not as fast as Tristian did, but he’d been carefully distant for awhile now.

“Gracie, answer me!” his loud voice cut through the air, making me slam the cabinet, shampoo somehow in hand.

“I’m in the damn shower!” I shouted back, angry with no particular reason. Ok, I had a reason. I’m just not going to look at it too closely, or I might want to run back to that cabinet. And my skin wasn’t ready for that yet.

“Well hurry up! You’re staying over at my place tonight.”

“The hell I am!” I hissed. Then I realized he couldn’t hear me.

“NO, I’m NOT!” I said. He laughed loud enough for me to hear. I growled and mumbled to myself as I got in the shower, dried off, and wrapped a towel around myself, going to my bed room. I crouched in front of my dresser.

“What’s on your arms!?” I squealed, falling over and clutching my towel to me. I twirled to see Tristian spiraled on my bed. Or, he was. Now he was sitting up, looking at me with a wide look.

"TRISTIAN! PERV! Get out of my room! How did you get IN my room!?” I screeched, backing into my closet and slamming the door. I heard him get up and walk to the otherside.

“Do you cut yourself?” he asked, confused.

“Tristian I swear to God if you don’t get OUT of my room I’m going to-“

“Alright, I’ll go to the freaking hallway, but dammit you’re coming with me and you’re telling me why you’re skin seems to have more scars then mine at the moment!” he all but shouted, slamming a foot or a fist into the door before leaving. I groaned.

How the hell am I supposed to tell him!?