"Apologize?" Bella wondered. "Why would someone like HIM apologize to someone like ME?" She thought to herself. "And what for". "Hey, look. I'm really sorry about what keeps happening with the guys, they're complete assholes". Bella paused for a second but then resumed in unlocking her car. "I am really sorry. I hope you understand that". Bella look up at his eyes for half a second and then looked to the side corner again. " I just need to go" she shyly said. " Then let me help you" he insisted. "There's nothing to help me with. I don't need your help" She said in almost a normal volume. Michaels face quickly, but slightly hinted despair. He moved out of the way the door and Bella quickly got inside. Michael stepped back as she started her car. She began to leave as he started to turn the direction of his car but just as Bella left the lot, Michael turned around and watched as she drove away.
As Bella was driving back to her house, she thought of what had just happened. The most popular guy in school had just attempted to speak to her but instead of actually communicating with him, she acted like the biggest moron on the face of the planet. Not to mention that she basically insulted him. When she parked her car in the drive way, she sat for a second. "God I'm so stupid!" She yelled as she slammed one of her hands on the steering wheel. She ran inside. She realized her Uncle wasn't there. At the store buying more beer and then would probably go to a friends house. That automatically meant she would be Allie for the night. She ran in her bed room locked the door and went to her bathroom. Even though no one was home except her, she locked herself inside and started to dig through a drawer. She found what she was searching for and pulled up her sleeve. As she dragged the blade against her ready scarred and ruined skin, she thought to herself what she did wrong. "What is wrong with me?" She sobbed. One after another, she would puncture her skin with the blade and would drag it across the battle field on her wrist. Each time, she made sure that blood flowed from the cut made. The way she did it, a scar was sure to be made. After hours, she cleaned the bathroom and herself and crawled in bed. It wasn't even six thirty yet and she was already in bed. She hadn't eaten. She didn't have any plans to do so. She played some music and began to draw. It was nine o'clock when she finally decided to try and sleep. She switch the music to a different play list and got under the covers. Right before she fell asleep, she bent her wrist to remind herself of what was wrong with her. That night, she fell asleep, and dreamt of Michael. The boy with blazing, brilliant red hair.
