Yes. 2 - growing up.

Chapter 15.

Songs I was listening to while writing:

- Video Games

-Diet Mountain Dew

-Blue Jeans

-Young And Beautiful

all by Lana Del Rey... Enjoy. (I'm obsessed with her lol)

Dylan's P.O.V

The beeping noise in my room is so irritating. The doctors and nurses all left me alone in this room and no one will give me answers. Not that I could ask any. My throat kills and my mouth is dry. The last thing I remember was talking to Trevor then next thing I know I'm in the bathroom. What the hell happened? Was I drugged?

All these ideas flood into my mind and it sucks not knowing what's going on. My head is throbbing and I want it to stop so I can think. I feel my arm hurting so I look down to find an I.V. Just fucking perfect. What is this going to look like for Dr. Ingrid?

A knock on the door makes the thoughts run away as Jc pops his head in. "Dylan." He breathes a sigh of relief. All I can do is nod. He walks in, pushing the door wider for the other three boys to come in. I expected Kian, but it wasn't. It was Trevor.

The four boys crowd around my bed and I feel cold with only the hospital gown on. Where'd Connor's shirt go? Please don't tell me they cut it like they do to other patients. I start to look around the room but instantly regret it due to my head throbbing. I cover my eyes with my hands since the lights were becoming unbearable.

"Dylan, what happened?" I hear Connors voice and my heart beats a million per second. Proof is on the heart monitor that my heartbeat quicken. All four boys look at the monitor with wide eyes and I instantly curse.

"I-" My voice barely goes above a whisper. My voice is hoarse and my throat hurts. "I don't really, God." I can barely talk and it honestly hurts.

"I'll get her water." Ricky informs us and walks out. Leaving only three boys and myself.

I look up at Jc and he walks over to me. I feel like crying. I just want to let it out because I've been holding it in for three years. And once I feel Jc's arms around me, I break.

This has been so much. I've been holding it all in. For three years I've been loved, beaten, crushed, rejected, played, bullied, and hated on. The negative has beaten the positive right now and no one, I feel, can make it better. I've been tossed around like a rag doll and I've held it all in through these years.

Tears stream down my face and I don't want to stop. It feels good to finally let it out and I don't think I could have held it in any longer. The pain in my chest is horrible but I embrace it. It hurts but it feels good. Like being beaten for something you want to repay. For being behind bars to do your time when you've confessed. Like being forgiven after you've sinned.

Jc shushes me as he runs his hands in my hair over and over again. I wrap my arms around him and I feel like I want to scream. So I do. I scream into his chest. I scream as loud as I can because it hurts.

I let people play me all my life and I'm sick of it. From my aunt letting me believe she was my mother to Trevor lying to me and saying he loved me when all he was trying to do was hurt me. All the way until now. Where people lie to my face saying I'm strong and I've lifted myself up from a horrible place. But those are all lies. I'm still in that pitch black ditch. I'm still in pain and it sucks.

I scream again. This time, in grief. I've let something that could have been so good slip out of my grasp and I hate it. I regret it. I regret ever being friends with that she-devil who, for six years, made me believe she was actually my friend but ended up using every single secret I told her against me. She even got the whole fucking school to go along with her shit and I let it happen for so long.

I regret staying quiet when I knew I had a voice. I regret being who I am: a horrible person. Just a horrible fucking person that is, in the words of John Green, a grenade. I will blow up one day. But for me it wasn't death. For me it is this. The day I finally break and let everything out.

I lied to myself, telling myself I was strong. Telling myself that it doesn't hurt when it really does. Telling myself that people actually like me for me and not for my fans or the publicity. In reality, I get hurt and shed a tear every time I read a hate comment. I feel a pain in my chest every time some thing wrong happens. I get lonely when people only become my friend for the publicity and to get followers and fans.

Alice and Gavin are amazing friends but they're only my friends because I have all this online "fame". And all my "fame" is because I'm friends with Our2ndLife. Because I'm friends with Tyler Oakley. Troye Sivan. Andrea Russett. Jenn McAllister. Bethany Mota. And so many other people that have over a million fans. I'm friends with them. That's why I have fans. And I hate it.

"Dylan."

"It hurts!" I yell and scream as loud as I can again. The pain in my chest is unbearable and it feels like shit. My whole life was a lie. My whole life is made of others. Their choices. Their fans. Their lives. My life is based off theirs. When was the last time I did something for myself? Oh yeah, never. I've always done things for others. Never for myself.

"I know." He continues to shush me. "I know it hurts, I know."

"No you don't!" I yell. "You don't know what it's like to never have your life under your own control, but under the control of others! You don't know how fucked up my god damn life is and how I always mess shit up and have others fix it for me instead!"

Everyone finally shut up. All you could hear was my sobs. My screams. My moans in pain. And the heart monitor. That fucking heart monitor that I wish would shut up. And by that, I mean my own heart to shut up.

[Follow me on Twitter (@awkofreakintaco) for updates on this story and more]

[P.S. Thanks for all the positive comments on the last chapter :)]