You healed me.

Ch. Three.

Jodie's POV

The day dragged by slowly, but finally it was lunch time. Normally, at this time, I would be hiding away with my friend, Becky, so no one bullies us, but she's off ill today.

I say off ill, what I mean is probably got a bad beating and couldn't make it into school. Unlike everyone in the school, I don't have an iPhone or anything fancy, I just have one of those beat-up flip phones that my dad gave me as a birthday present.

Yeah, a birthday present since 5 years.

I've had the same one for 5 years, and my mum doesn't know, and I'm hoping to keep it that way. I flipped the miniature screen, before clicking on some buttons which took me to my contacts. I punched in Becky's number, before pressing dial.

"Hello." Her confident voice boomed from the other side, making me envy her even more.

"Hey, Bex. It's Jodie, how are you?" My Irish accent flew out without thought, and a slight chuckle burst from Becky's side. I smirked, knowing full well that it was the nickname and how she hated it.

"Feeling alright, got a huge bruise on my stomach, can't walk, throat feeling dry. Max made me walk for a mile yesterday with a basket full of his junk to his mate for ignoring him." She sighed, and I gasped.

Max? He's back?

"How did Max get out of jail?" Max is Becky's older brother, he's even harsher on Bex than her parents.

"Friend bailed him out. Funny to think, only a year ago, he did... What he did, and now he's out, he's not even sorry, yet he's meaner." She sighed again, before shuffling could be heard in the background. "Crap, I'll call you later, I have to go."

With that, she hung up and I groaned, noticing that it meant I had to survive the rest of lunch on my own. But then again, Becky had to go through much more than me right now.

I wished more than anything me and Becky could just stand up for ourselves and look as confident as we don't feel. But two against the world isn't something me and Bex can go through. I mean, we can hardly stand up to Max, who is so much worse than people think.

What's weird is that Max and Bex's parents used to beat Max too. They used to be just as harsh on him as they are on Becky. They used to hide in the basement together, cuddled up, crying their eyes out for hours on end. He was there for her, she was there for him. But then he started being a nasty older brother and took all his anger out on his innocent little sister. She never stood a chance.

For me, it was my parents and my two sisters. They all hate me, and Haley, the oldest sister, actually went as far as putting a razor in my hand and locking me in the bathroom.

She wanted me gone.

Unintentionally, tears started streaming down my face, as the memory of that night flashed before my eyes. The temptation, the need, the tears, the self hatred. Everything.

And then, the blood, the pain, the relief, the sadistic smile on my face. I remember feeling in control of my body, in control of my emotions. Putting myself in so much pain made me smile. Then the memory of Haley's snicker on the other side of the door, with the encouraging words to keep me going.

"Deeper, Jodie, that's not deep enough."

"Don't stop. You know you love it."

"Good girl, now, I want you to slice it so deep, Jodie, that you can see the other side of your arm."

Of course, that's all it took for me to snap, for me to drop the blade in tears, and collapse amongst the pool of blood.

Now that I think it over, I wonder what I did to deserve it. Did I hurt someone in the past without knowing it? Did I ignore someone, did I roll my eyes at an elderly woman? I don't remember doing any of that.

Perhaps it's because of how imperfect I am. My hair isn't long and shiney, it black and unruly. The curls aren't sweet loops that frame my face, they are springy spirals that can never stay put, no matter what product tries to fix it. My eyes don't glimmer and shine, they are bland, and a boring shade of blue. My skin isn't smooth and beautiful, it's a weird shade of brown and bruises easily.

Nothing about me is perfect, nothing about me is near perfect. I look in the reflection on my phone and grimace, instantly snapping it shut. No wonder my family is disappointed in how I turned out. Heck, even I'm disappointed by how I turned out. No wonder my classmates think I'm gross, I agree with them.

Before I could drown myself in even more unhealthy thoughts, the bell for fourth period rings, a shrill forcing sound that makes me jump every time.

I scramble off the toilet seat and gather my stuff, dipping it into my bag. Flinging my bag over my shoulder, I begin to make my way to French.