Stay Courageous

Chapter 19

Guys! I have my first reader that I didn't tell to start reading my book! Yay! Thanks @Kolbie66 for your kind words and for taking the time to read my story. Ily.

***This chapter has very descriptive details of some triggering scenarios. Read at your own risk.

And the character in the picture is James.
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Stella's POV
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The car ride home from the concert was sufficiently awkward. I knew. Zoe knew I knew. But Wanda didn't know and Wanda didn't know I knew. You follow me?

"Girls! Why so quiet? I thought you'd be squealing about getting to meet those boys all the way home! It was so nice of them to give you backstage passes. I hope you told them thank you," Wanda looked at us expectantly but neither of us responded. And that was how the whole ride back to Sandhills went.
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"Bye, Stella," Zoe was dropping me off at my house and she got out of the car to give me a hug.

I squeezed her tighter than she had me and whispered in her ear, "don't do it anymore." A tear trickled out of my eye and landed in Zoe's dirty blonde curls. I thought of the confident, spitfire Zoe that I knew and loved. She could come at you with a spicy come back any time, any day and she'd wear what she wanted no matter what you called her. I thought of that Zoe laying in her bed and doing whatever it is that she did to her arm at night. Lord knows those weren't from cutting.

"I'll try," she finally answered me, we let go and stared at each other for a moment. There was a tear that was made more of eyeliner than water dotting Zoe's right cheek. She wiped it off before I could. I finally had to just stop and turn around and go into my apartment. Wanda would start to guess something was up.
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I stepped inside my front door and my stomach growled. I realized I wasn't able to eat yet this week with the Ziglers around. I saw that everyone was still at work and I was home alone, so I took the opportunity to raid the kitchen. Grabbing four cookies, some chocolate pudding, a bowl of ice cream and the whole box of lucky charms, I chowed down on my long awaited food. In the ten minuets it took me to eat everything, I realized I hadn't gotten my drink. I rushed back to the fridge to grab the two liter Diet Coke and chugged until the stuff worked. Finally, when I'd downed more than two thirds of the bottle, I felt it. I practically threw the Coke back into the refrigerator, and dashed to the bathroom where everything came back up. I emptied my stomach, all the while thinking about Zoe. I know it shouldn't, but throwing up made me feel better about the whole thing.

When I was done, I went back to the kitchen to clean up my mess before my dad, Ms. Nancy, Max, or Nick came home from work. I wasn't eating supper tonight. I'd just tell my dad that I ate the whole box of Lucky Charms, which was true! I even had the empty box as proof. With the mess cleaned up, I trudged down the hall to my room and flopped on my bed, ready for a nap. After all that happened these last three days, I was exhausted.
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Zoe's POV
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That was mortifying. Ashton Irwin saw my scars. Ashton Irwin saw my scars! Ashton Irwin drew a flipping butterfly on my scars! I rolled up the sleeve of my flannel shirt and stared at the biggest scar where he drew the butterfly. What was that even supposed to mean?

I grabbed my pink laptop that was also sitting on my bed and punched up Google. After typing in 'Ashton Irwin butterfly,' I scrolled through the search results. They all had to do with the same thing. Ashton seemed to have made up this thing called the "butterfly challenge" where you draw butterflies on your scars to remind yourself that you're beautiful and you're worth it and what not. That was sweet. He drew on fans who had scars. That's me I guess. But the difference was I wasn't beautiful. Just a goth who might as well become a whore cause apparently that's what everyone thinks I am. Ian. Fletcher. Madison. That's why Sean won't ever pay attention to me, cause I'm worthless. I'm ugly and weird.

I told Stella I'd try not to do it anymore. God, I wish I couldn't do it anymore. It stings under the shower. It draws attention. It hurts. But I deserve it. I was doing the world a favor. Maybe if I just kept at it, I'd scratch deep enough to where the bleeding wouldn't stop. I laughed at myself. See? I can't even do self harm right. Razor blades scare me, so instead I just use my fingernail. The more I thought of how dumb this was, the more I realized I deserved exactly what I did to myself. And with that, I took my black-painted fingernail and scratched my wrist again and again in the same place until it started bleeding. The blood was warm and it dripped down my arm and it made me feel better. So I stopped scratching.

This was all late Wednesday night, alone in my room. That's how it always is. Finally, I changed into some pajamas and got ready to sleep. It was easier to sleep after I had cleared my conscience anyway.
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End of part 19

Yes, I know, that was a short chapter. Only 954 words. Sorry for all the depressing stuff! Don't worry, it just part of the story. Things can only go up from here.

Thanks for reading! Stay courageous. <3

-SJ