*That night(Luke's POV)*
I lay in my bed staring at my wrist. You could tell they were marks from nails, I didn't want people to think I was weak and he hurts me...even though he did. I don't want marks otherwise his story of the "fight" would have evidence making me a laughing stock. Sydney would see the marks and would fight with him. If that happened he could hurt her, something o never want to happen. The only thing I could do to hide it was make it look like my regular scar. I had stopped knowing that Sydney wouldn't like it but this is the only way to protect her. At least I think so. I stand up on my feet and walk near my bathroom. When I get there I stand in front of the mirror. I grab the razor blade and hold my arm out laying it on top of the nail marks. I look at myself in the mirror and it reminds me of the old times. She just started dating him and never had time for me...just him. My father left us and I was left with my mother. Those times of cutting were for a different reason...right? Instead of thinking I went over the marks making deep cuts so they were as thick as the markings. Blood dropped into the sink filled with water making it turn red. With water it wouldn't stain my sink which if my mother saw she would freak. I grab a rag and dab the remaining off. Finally my masterpiece was done.
*the next day*
I walk into math class and take a seat behind her. Everyone had asked me about the fight but with my plan all I had to do was tell them it didn't hurt. When they looked at my arm it look normal to them. Instead people thought he was weak. Which would make me the strong one. Making Sydney want to hang out with me"the winner". Syd turned around to me and whispered."are you okay from yesterday. I could swear you looked hurt." instead I smiled. "He didn't even leave a mark." I said proudly as I shown her my wrist. When she looked her jaw dropped lower than I thought it could have dropped. She didn't say anything. Instead she ran out of the classroom without a single word. I run out to catch up with her. I grab her arm and turn her to face me. "How could you luke!" it must have seemed as I question but was now anger making her yell it. "What do you mean?"I asked her confused. Didn't she already know I had cut myself. "You cut yourself luke!" she yelled to me. She tries to walk away but I held her still. "Get your scared arm off of me Luke! You lying piece of Shit!" after she said that her eyes got soft. I slowly let go of her. She said exactly what Scott said. Maybe he was perfect for her. "I'm s-" she tried to say but I stopped her. "I know. I'm so fucked up. Don't worry Sydney you can say it... You already said one thing Scott said. It won't hurt me." I demand. Her eyes start to tear but I don't stay to see them fall out of her green eyes. Instead I leave the school without a second to think. I was tired of people putting me down. Even my best friend....my only friend. She might have regretted it but she meant it. She just didn't want to admit it.
.
.
.
As soon as I got home I remembered my mother was at work. I ran to the fridge and looked for something to drink, hopefully to stop me from hurting. I found a bottle of vodka in the back of the refrigerator and started to chug it. I was three-fourths done and already felt it kick in. I swallow the rest in one gulp, then wipe around my mouth so I didn't have any one my face. O run up the stairs and into my room. I throw myself on my bed and lay there. Why did I have to start cutting again? To make a cover story so people wouldn't think I was weak? I was pathetic. I trace letters on my cut wrist thinking of it over and over again. Suddenly I had an idea. I grab my razor and began to cut the letters using my old marks as part of the letters. Finally as I put the blade down I hold my arm in the light. "Reject." I read off of my arm. I smile at the word. Its the perfect word to describe me. But I look closely at the cuts and only I could tell that what it really said was "Syd." the "s" was in the "r". The "y" was in the "j" and the "d" was tell "c" and "t" together. I don't know why I wrote it...but I just knew I had to.
