A Do Or Die Situation (Sequel to To Offset The Shakes) // Andy Hurley/Trohley

Monster (Libbie's POV)

**WARNING: MAY BE TRIGGERING**

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Halle: "What the fuck happened last night? I thought you were supposed to be my friend?!"

I picked my phone up, trying to see through my tears. I debated whether or not I should reply.

E: "I am your friend. It was a drunken mistake."

Halle: "Bullshit! Even if you weren't drunk, it doesn't change the fact that you fucked my boyfriend!"

E: "I fucked up, what do you want me to say?"

Halle: "Don't fucking say anything. Don't talk to me or Gage."

I threw my phone on the floor, crying harder than before. I fucked up, I lost my friends. Life was great. Definitely the highlight of my birthday. I didn't know what else to do or what else to think. I rummaged around my bedside table, lifting up things in the first drawer. I threw them on the floor, then reached in the back corner of the drawer. I pulled the tape off and came face to face with an old friend; my blade. I stared at it, trying to convince myself not to do what I was thinking about. I didn't listen to myself, which has proved to be a pattern with me. 

My eyes left the stare-down I was having with the blade and went to my wrist, where there were still scars from previous times I had hurt myself. Without hesitation, I dragged the blade across my old scars, forming new lines of red behind it. I cringed a little, but refused to stop. I tore up my left wrist; lines of blood covered it, and a little dripped onto my bed sheets. I threw the bloody blade back into my drawer and curled up and cried. The contents of the drawer were still thrown about the floor, blood made its way onto my new dress that, after last night, had no meaning to me anymore. 

I laid there and cried, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to think. I heard my phone buzz a few more times, but I refused to look at it. I knew it would just send me farther down into the bottomless pit known as depression. My mind wandered from topic to topic, and soon, it was stuck on Gage; how was he feeling in all of this? Was he getting any backlash from Halle and Mack? Why hasn't he texted me?

I picked my phone up, ignoring the five texts from Halle, not even bothering to read them. I opened mine and Gage's messages, then started typing.

E: "Gage, I'm sorry. I fucked up. I shouldn't have done what I did. I fucked up so many things already."

Silence.

Check my phone.

More silence.

Glare at my arm, cry a little more, wipe it off.

Still nothing.

Put a sweatshirt on to cover up any evidence.

He hates me.

I curled back up into bed, pulling the blankets over my body. I held onto the sleeves of my sweatshirt with my hands and wiped my eyes occasionally. I patted my arm a few times here and there to dry any blood still lingering around. I closed my eyes, trying to find sleep that, with much effort, finally came to me.

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"Libbie, wake up," someone said, tapping my shoulder.

I stretched, rubbing my eyes, surely getting makeup everywhere. I looked behind me, seeing who woke me up. It was Andy; he had a saddened look on his face, but I didn't question it. 

"Dad? Why'd you wake me up?" I asked.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I can't handle this anymore," she said, getting up and walking towards the door and opening it. "Libbie, you're going back to Chicago with your mother."

"No!" I refused. "I refuse to ever go back to her! Put me out on the streets if you don't want to deal with me! Put me in foster care! I refuse!" I shouted, backing up on my bed.

"Libbie, you don't have a choice," Andy said, walking towards me and pulling me off of my bed forcefully. "You're going back with Natalie and that's final!" he shouted, throwing me on the floor at Natalie's feet.

I scrambled to get away, but Joe showed up and picked me up, gripping my cut up wrist harder and harder so I wasn't able to get away. He practically dragged me outside, then threw me in my mom's vehicle, buckling me in so I couldn't move. I watched and cried as he walked back to the house, where Andy and Natalie were standing on the porch. I watched them laugh, I watched them point at me.

"You'll take good care of her, right?" Andy smirked at Natalie.

"Don't worry, she'll get what's comin' to her," Natalie glared at me.

"Hit her good, babe," Andy smirked at Natalie again, then him and Joe retreated back into the house.

I watched Natalie walk down the sidewalk towards the car. She got in the front seat and looked back at me, "Miss me?"

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"No! Don't fucking touch me!" I screamed myself awake.

"Libbie? Honey, what's wrong?" Andy asked as both him and Joe ran into my room. Andy sat on the edge of my bed and took me in his arms. I made my way out of them and backed up into the corner on my bed. "Libbie...?"

"D-Don't touch me," I swallowed. 

"Libbie, what's the matter? You know I'm not going to hurt you," Andy said.

"Hun, talk to us," Joe said, sitting closer to me.

"D-Don't f-fucking to-touch me," I said again, pulling my knees to my chest once more.

I watched as Joe and Andy exchanged confused glances. They still sat there, watching me with confused eyes. They didn't try to touch me anymore, but I knew they wouldn't leave.

"I-I'm sorry," I stuttered. 

"Baby, what's wrong?" Andy asked.

"N-Nightmare," I said.

Andy nodded his head, then slowly took me in his arms, where I clung to his shirt again. I started sobbing, and Joe rubbed my back. I cried, telling them I was sorry for everything, telling them how much I fucked up, telling them anything and everything that was on my mind. I apologized for hurting myself, which is when Andy looked at me with sad eyes, then noticed the small dots of blood stained on my sweatshirt. He sighed, holding me closer. He looked at Joe with the same sad eyes, then Joe got up and walked out. He came back a few minutes later with a few band-aids. Andy sat me up on his lap, my head still resting on his shoulder. Joe carefully pulled back my sleeve and put the band-aids on me. I cringed a little when he touched them accidentally. Andy stroked my hair, telling me it would be okay. 

"There, all better," Joe said, throwing the band-aid wrappers away in my trash can, then he started picking up the things on the floor. As he went to go put them back in the drawer, he gasped lightly, making Andy look at him. I knew what he had found, and frankly, I'm kind of glad. I knew he was going to flush it, and I was actually happy about that, because maybe that would make the temptation go away.