Don't Give up on Me

******If you're triggered easily by reading about self-harm, I reccomend skipping until about seven or so paragraphs down, it won't effect how you read the chapter as a whole******

My life was beginning to become more and more mundane as the days passed. I was suspended from the dance team, I was grounded, I was on "probation" at school for disciplinary reasons; the only thing I had to do besides do homework was think.

And I did a lot of that.

At first, I would wander into my makeshift studio and try to work my frustration out onto a piece of canvas. But, two weeks later, I was still frustrated and uninspired. I ditched my project in art, yet still got an A, and now, I've ditched trying to paint or draw altogether. I couldn't transfer my ideas to canvas whenever I did have them, and being all too angry at myself, I ripped the canvas angrily and haven't been back down to my studio since.

My mind had considerably changed its thinking process in the past two weeks. I had just started to become my old, happy, confident self again. Now, I was back to being numb, melancholy. It scared me, honestly. I'd had a problem with self harm and depression as a freshman and sophomore, but had sought after treatment after my dad walked in on what I was doing. Of course, that sent me away for two months, and although I had stopped cutting and making myself numb, it hadn't really helped. And to come back home to see your boyfriend and best friend screwing in the back of a car isn't the best homecoming, either.

Now, once again, that little razor looked as tempting as ever, glinting in the flourescent bathroom light. My thumb and forefinger rubbed together in anticipation, itching to pick it up and drag it just once over my skin, just for the relief. The massive amount of guilt I felt had not subsided in the least. My father was still bitter and ashamed of me. My friends, although they assured me that they weren't angry at me, I still felt immensely terrible about it all. And Zacky... I couldn't look him in the eye.

Serena had kept her promise on making my life hell. My car was not only egged, but its been spraypainted on, dented- it looked awful. She fed the entire school a bunch of lies about me and my life. I couldn't put a stop to it either; I heard the rumors so much that I started to believe them too.

And that is why, on that chilly November Friday evening, I stared down that damn razor in the bathroom, the internal chaos of my mind eating me alive.

I take a breath. For a second, my rational half screams at me to just go lie down, that it'll be okay. But my demons said otherwise. I reach for the blade; one time wouldn't be so bad, right?

I jump as a loud buzzing erupts suddenly, making me drop the razor on the floor. I look at the cabinet above my bathroom's counter and see my phone vibrating loudly, a picture of Charlotte, Vi, and I showing while the little green message notification lit up.

My heart thumping, I unlock my phone and see a text from Zacky. "Go outside," it said. Looking briefly at my make-up smudged eyes, I fix my eyes quickly before darting downstairs, forgetting the razor in the fuzzy mats.

"Hey," he says when I open the door, a small smile on his face.He had his backpack slung over his shoulder, car keys he'd recently gotten back in hand. "You gonna let me in?"

"Zacky, I can't have people over still," I say, the lie rolling off my tongue easily. Truthfully, my dad had made an exception a couple days ago due to my constant moping, and as much as I wanted to hang out with him, I just wasn't up for being social.

He wasn't buying it. "Listen, I know you're still bummed about everything that's happened in the past few weeks," he says as he effortlessly walks past me inside of the foyer, "but I'm gonna make you forget about it all, okay?"

I raise an eyebrow as he comfortably moves about my living room, tossing his bookbag down and automatically checking to see if the DVD player was hooked up. "And how, may I ask, do you plan on doing that?"

He reaches into a pocket in his bookbag,pulling out a few movies. "I've brought Ferris Bueller's Day Off, The Breakfast Club, and both Grave Encounters movies. Your favorites, though I don't see why you like this Grave Encounters bullshit, its not even real," he says, muttering the last part. "Anyways, I've come to take you out of another boring Friday night, Andi."

I feel myself smile softly. "What makes you think my Friday nights are lame?"

"What'd you do last Friday night?"

"........ homework," I finally admitted quietly.

"See, that's awful! But don't worry. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen again," he says with a grin. "Now, will you just trust me on this?"

"Okay, I trust you." I say softly as I lean against the doorway. "But I really don't wanna stay inside for another second..."

He sighs, though I can see him fighting a smile. "Now you're making me change my plans-"

"You've planned this all out?" I raise an eyebrow at him with genuine curiosity.

"Well, yeah," he says sheepishly. "You've been off ever since the Serena thing and I dunno, it kinda sucks seeing you so low."

"Well, you shouldn't worry about me. I'm fi-"

"No, you're not," he interjects firmly. "We haven't been friends for long, Andi, but even I know that you're not you anymore."

I hadn't realized that he had slowly moved closer until his piercing green eyes had recaptured my attention, holding my blue ones firmly. "Let's go sit on the deck for a bit, okay?" I say calmly, moving towards the couch and picking up my favorite blanket before quickly walking towards the back doors.

The cold, worn wooden deck creaked under my sock clad feet as I stepped towards the soft bench under the metal awning. My backyard wasn't much, just a couple of trees and leaf-covered grass. My dad's large barbeque pit sat on the far side of the deck, only used once since the move out here. The sun was already slipping behind the horizon, the chill of the night creeping in just as fast. Zacky peers into the small campfire pit that was situated in front of the bench and looks at me for approval.

"Go ahead," I tell him verbally, and after gathering kindling, sprinkling a bit of lighter fluid, and a drop of a match, a small, cozy fire glowed in front of us.

We talk for a while, the night growing darker and darker until I could only see his face illuminated by the bright orange campfire. He teased me about how the color of the fire was identical to my hair. I smiled for the first time that day; a genuine one, not the fake one I fronted so much. There was something about him that made me feel comfortable, safe. From sharing a blanket to casually resting my head on his shoulder, I just felt... right. Like we were in our own little bubble and nothing could pop it.

"Ow," I groan when he pinches my arm, looking up at his laughing face.

"Just making sure you didn't fall asleep," he grins. "It worked."

I roll my eyes, looking up at the sky. Long, wispy clouds swirled in the sky, the stars not nearly as visable as they'd been weeks before. The moon shone brightly, full and luminous as ever. "Jesus Christ, its cold out here tonight."

"Um, duh," he says in an obvious tone. "I dont know why you chose to come outside instead of the warm, wonderful place we call indoors."

"I've been cooped up in there for two weeks, what do you expect?" I snap quickly, then regretting it immediately.

"For you to do backflips," he says with a grin. "All across the yard, because I've liberated you for a short time."

"In your dreams, Baker," I roll my eyes with a laugh.

"I'll be waiting," he says cheesily, making me groan in annoyance. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

I sigh, though it wasn't in annoyance. "Thanks for breaking me out," I say softly.

He tightens his arm around me. "No problem," he says, and I knew he meant it. My skin tingled where his fingers brushed the exposed skin on my hip where the hemline of my t-shirt ended. It made me shiver, causing him to pull the blanket tighter around me, thinking I was cold.

"I told you its-"

"Shut up, I'm enjoying this," I interrupt him, making him chuckle.

**********

"Go to bed," he tells me for the millionth time as I nod off again. I shake my head stubbornly; I didn't feel like moving, he was much too comfortable to sleep on.

"It wont hurt you any. We can hang out tomorrow. Plus, your dad's gonna be here soon and we both know I'm not allowed to stay past ten, and its almost midnight," he says, his eyes darting to the front of the house, searching for headlights. The fire had died down long ago, thankfully, so my dad wouldn't know we were out here if he suspected it.

"That requires movement," I pout. He chuckles.

"Come're," he says, taking the blanket off of me and pulling me up. "See, that wasn't so hard."

"Shut up," I tell him, carrying the blanket inside relunctantly. The sudden warmth of the house was shocking, and I think I woke up a bit. He slides his shoes back on while I lean against the doorframe looking into the living room. I just didn't want him to leave; when I was with him, I just felt... good again. I felt happy. And now he had to go, and I could already feel myself losing my mood again.

"Go to bed," he urges again, making me sigh. "I'll see you later, okay?"

I follow him to the front door. "'Night," I tell him quietly.

"'Night," he smirks, walking outside and towards his house. I shut the door and lock it before trudging upstairs.

I changed clothes quickly before going into my bathroom to brush my teeth. My eyes caught a shiny little thing in the fuzzy bathroom mat, and I picked it up. It was the razor, the same one I stared down barely six hours before. I was now more thankful than ever about him coming over; who knows what kind of damage I could have done.

I crawl into bed soon after throwing the blade down in the trash. I knew I needed to tell him about this all, and I knew it needed to be soon. But how do you go up to someone and casually say "hey, I used to cut and I was thrown in a mental hospital against my will" and then sliding in everything about my mother? It seemed impossible.

But, I also knew that I liked him. A lot. And I hoped he liked me more than the casual flirting here and there; I really hoped that coming clean about the real me didn't scare him off either. That would hurt me more than anything.

But for right now, I had to stay strong. Or to be cheesy, I had to just take a breath and let the rest come easy. Because at the end of the day, my sanity and happiness mattered. And he made me happy. So I was going to do my best and try to make myself happy, with him in mind.