She Looks So Perfect

Chapter Eleven

Michael's POV

She's a piece of work. She makes me want to scream and cry, and sometimes I have no idea what to do with myself. After the things with Alexza started, we have slowly grown apart, and it hurts like nothing I've experienced prior.

The only reason we're still together at this point is Calum. It makes me feel really bad for saying this, but his tragedy with Angelica put us in our places and made us realize how lucky we are. Yes, there are complications with our relationship, case A being Alexza, but at least we still have one another.

~

Hannah showed up at my house one afternoon. I was scared; we usually made plans. She didn't hug or kiss me, her expressions were plain and minimal. I offered her a drink and a seat, her declining both and never making eye contact, "We need to fucking talk," she said sternly, yet held back, fragile.

A million things were running through my mind, my heart racing. I thought long and hard, and couldn't think of a single thing I had done to get her this upset, "About what?" I said, my voice shaking.

"I know about the kiss." How the hell? "Someone snapped a photo of your little makeout with Alexza and it got around to me. How could you lie to me like that?" She said, taking a shove at my chest. I stiffened up, not fully comprehending the fact that Hannah got physically violent. My eyes widened, and I was fuming, "Why the hell did you just do that to me?" I said, my voice rising with anger. Then it clicked; she knew I wouldn't do anything back. She took advantage of my stand point on violence, and used it against me. I stepped back a few steps to refrain from losing my temper.

"Don't you think you deserve it? You kissed that whore after I agreed to you taking her to the dinner date. You swore to me that it didn't mean anything!" She was pacing. Her hand gestures were fast and sharp, like she wished she could get ahold of Alexza. I wanted to walk to her and hug her, kissing her forehead and promising her it would be okay. I wanted to carry her to the couch, cuddle with her until she forgot about the stupid kiss, "I don't have to take this," She said, storming out the door and to her car. I opened the door, screaming her name, begging her in front of the whole neighborhood to stay, to listen to what I had to say. But she climbed into her car and drove away without looking back.

I thought about following her, climbing into my car and hoping she would give me another chance. But with that, I risked her calling the police, claiming I was stalking her. I risked someone seeing me, realizing I'm following a girl that isn't Alexza, and word getting out about that. I decided against that, and ran upstairs, the tears already biting at my flushed cheeks.

I climbed into bed, and just sobbed. I grabbed at my hair, pulling at it, not caring if it fell out. I screamed into the pillows, the cloth absorbing the tears. I hit the bed, my anger building. I fought myself, knowing that relapse was only three steps from me. I felt the pain all over, my throat starting to close up.

I trailed into the bathroom and fell to the floor. My vision was blurry, the pain already soothing the hurt. I held myself up with the side of the bathtub, my stomach starting to turn. All of a sudden, her face flashed through my mind. It was like a slide show as all of my memories of her came flooding in. I sank to the ground again, basking in the thoughts.

I remembered when I met her, our first kiss, when we started dating. I remembered when I introduced her to the boys, and how they approved of her. I recalled the time she passed out at the fair after riding the roller coaster. I remember having to nurse her back to health when she caught pneumonia, how her parents weren't there half the time I was. And I ended on the memory of her finding my scars, hidden under the bracelets that are meant to hide them.

At first, she ran her finger over them lightly, like she was trying to make them disappear. Then she looked at me with sympathy and horror, as I felt my heart in my stomach. How was I supposed to explain my darkness to my sunshine? I tried to change the subject, but her eyes started to water. I panicked a little, not at all wanting my problems to become hers.

I finally gave in, explaining my parents to her. I told her everything; from my father beating my mum, to the fact that they just didn't give a shit about me. By the end, she was sobbing, as was I. She told me she didn't believe it, she refused to believe that I was as happy and upbeat with all of this happening at home. She made me realize that I didn't care about my parents, and that was okay because they didn't care for me either. She made me promise never to harm myself again, and I said not as long as she was there to make me happy.

Trigger warning: the next part of this chapter involves self harm and goes into a small bit of detail. You've been warned.

Therefore, I reached into the bottom drawer of the vanity and grabbed the blade I stealthily hid behind extra toothbrushes and hair supplies. I wiped the tears so I could see. I ripped the bracelets off my left arm and lifted my sleeve to find scars. It had been two years since I had damaged myself; I told her I wouldn't as long as she was there for me, and I kept that promise. I ran my finger over the little bumps the scar tissue had formed before ripping into my flesh. It stung, hurt even, but that was my intention. I bit my lip, trying to distract from the pain. I decided another slice was okay, and cut again. I whimpered as the blood ran out, red finding its way to the back of my hand and dripping onto the floor. I watched it slowly filing out. It was like it couldn't stand it inside the tight caverns called veins any longer, like I was a disease and it was trying to get as far away as it could.

I tried to stand, but I was too dizzy. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. This had happened to me before, and I would just have to wait it out. But then my phone rang, "Fuck," I whispered, gritting my teeth as my body threatened to tip. I wobbled over to my phone to see Alexza's name light up on the screen.

I sniffed and unlocked the phone, desperate to find my voice, "Michael, are you there?" She said.

I cleared my throat of the large lump that layed there, "Yeah," I managed to force out.

"Are you okay, I've texted you like four times today and you never answered."

A lone tear escaped my eye, "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm kind of, uh, busy right now, but we need to talk. Can we meet somewhere tomorrow?"

"How about your house?" she suggested, "I don't think that would be a good idea," I responded.

"What about mine?" She wasn't getting it, "No, Alexza, we need to meet at a restaurant or something. We need to talk, and it's really important." But I didn't want anyone thinking we were having trouble, "Okay wait, can we meet at your place? It needs to be discussed in private."

"Michael, are you sure you're okay?" She asked again, "Yes Alexza, fuck, I'm fine can we please just talk tomorrow?" that was harsh.

She fell silent, "Okay Mike," she hung up. I might have lost Hannah's respect, but I wasn't about to lose Alexza too.