The Sister Of Popular

Chapter Twenty-Two

It had been four days since it had happened, and nothing was better.

Actually, it seemed to be getting worse. It was like I was trapped in a hole, alone and lost. I barely even understood the point in trying, the point in living now. I barely felt myself everyday, stumbling to school, attempting to ignore all the shouts of slut, dumbass, bitch being shouted across the hallways at me, trying to avoid anyone and everyone I knew, walking that two-hour journey back home and barricading myself into my bedroom, only coming down for dinner with the best fake smile I had ever mustered.

Thomas had gone back to being the class-know-it-all, and every time I saw him, I just regretted every moment of my life. Yes, he might have been annoying, yes, he might have been clingy, but had I met anyone who understood me like he did? Had I ever had life-long conversations that kept my mind off things with anyone else? Had I ever built such a close bond with anyone?

No. I had to let him go.

And I knew he once liked me.

But I had gone and ruined that.

And it seemed like the whole world was going by, moving on, but I couldn't. It was as if everyone - Ashley, Francis, Isaac, Mikayla, Holly, Robyn, Lucas, Thomas, Levi - had just stuck me to one place, locked me up and left me in this wreck. And it was funny, because nobody had realised. My mum was oblivious - she didn't even know Levi and I weren't friends, never mind the hell I was in. Aiden still couldn't forgive me, and even though he often asked to talk to me, his ample video-gaming hands had never grown into weight-lifting ones, and he had never managed to push into my room, which was still blocked in with drawers whenever I was in it. I assured him I was fine.

I wasn't fine though, and those scissors that stayed on my bedroom carpet, slightly stained with red proved it. I deserved it. And although I didn't cut again, I let those cuts be a reminder of what I had done. I let them be a reminder of how stupid I had been. Every time I started blaming someone else for my problems, I looked at the cuts to remember that everything was my fault, and I couldn't blame them on anyone else.

And as I sat against the wall, in a baggy Christmas jumper, I looked at those healing scabs, promising to leave scars.

I knew I shouldn't.

But I did.

I needed help. But everyone had left me.

And then the door opened.

I hastened to throw the scissors halfway across my bedroom, and they hit the wall, bouncing back to land on the carpet. Quickly pushing my sleeve back down, I looked up.

Levi. How had he even managed to get in? I didn't do PE for GCSE, but I was sure Levi wasn't top of the class in strength. I didn't think he'd be able to enter my room if it was blocked by my chest of drawers and a chair, which was so heavy I could hardly move the chest of drawers alone. To be honest, he'd only ever tried to come into my room if my mother had asked him to, or to yell at me.

My mum was out, so it was probably the latter.

But still. Couldn't he notice how much I was hurting? Didn't he realise what a misery he had made my life? It was his fault, just for becoming so popular and...

No. Lexi. It was your fault. It wasn't his fault that you got Thomas and the others, was it?

Either way, he had chosen the exact wrong time to walk in, just when I had those bloody scissors out. I hoped he didn't see the throwing of the scissors, still stained with a scarlet colour, and my sleeve being pulled down.

Actually, he might have, as he just looked at me sitting there for a minute, with a confused expression on his face. Kind of like the old Levi, but I wasn't going to fall for this. He had never stopped shouting insults at me since September, and I highly doubted it was going to stop. He clearly didn't care, since he still hadn't seen behind the act. Twin telepathy never worked now. I couldn't understand him, and he was the polar opposite to understanding me.