pandemonium and shattered glass hearts.

Chapter 6.

6.

Jess's pov

'it's freezing, my hands are shaking and these words are everywhere.

It's as though I'm stuck once again in a déjà-vu of horrid things, a whirlwind romance with fucking things up. I guess it's more of a long term relationship these days, all I can do is fuck everything up.

I hate it.

I don't know what to think, I can't stop these thoughts from slicing through my mind like razors. If I didn't feel so damn guilty and confused if go put a razor to my wrist, but this afternoons events have scared me.

It's starting to feel like I can't outrun myself, everything I do is always just a step behind. Tripping me up, wrapping barbed wire around my ankles.

I'd apologise, but there are no words I can think of that could fix my mess. Besides, saying anything would be like dancing with the devil, a risk, a chance that I might not get through it alive.

I've really messed up this time, haven't I?'

I know reading this could be my own personal 'dance with the devil' but I can't help it. The way she writes is almost like a drug, the longer I go without it, the tighter the hands around my throat seem to get.

I can't stop thinking about her.

Luce left the pieces of the teacup on her bedside table this morning, and I know that I should just forget it. But I can't let this go. Maybe, it's worth one last shot, even if that one last shot may as well be aimed at my head.

I skipped school today, my head hurts. I told them I had cramps, and because this is an all girls school they sympathized and let me stay in bed. The more I lie, the easier it seems to become.

My minds gone crazy, I never thought I'd end up like this, a liar, a bitch, and to be honest, I'm starting to wonder if my feelings for Luce are deeper than I realized.

"lately my minds been like the sea, every lines a swim up stream"

I glue the pieces of china back together, avoiding the cut on my hand. The edges are sharp, and tempting. But I won't do it again.

Once the pieces form some resemblance to the cup they came from, I set it down, along with another note. Cliche.

It's playing with fire, I know. And fire is hot, fire burns. Oh well, screw it. I can't give up now.

'oh, throw you a rope, to wrap tightly around your throat'

Luce's pov.

Running on no sleep is always hard, but running on no sleep and a night of crying is even harder.

Its Monday, so we have lessons, everyone around me is bright eyed.

They all hug me, tell me they missed me this weekend. It's just words, they wash straight over my head. This is all so ridiculous, why would anyone want to be 'popular'

But none of these idiots never realise how dead I am inside, so I just play along. Smile, even though it makes me feel like a wooden puppet on a string.

Talk, even though I feel like an actress, the words coming out of my mouth are no more than mere lines in a movie.

The day goes by so slowly, every tick of the clock on the wall seems like a hundred years. The ticking makes my mind go back to last night, feeling like I was sitting on a disarmed bomb.

And remembering that makes me remember everything, and god dammit, I feel so damn guilty.

It's taken me all day to notice that Jess isn't even in lessons, and I know she isn't sick.

My heart starts to beat ice then, and I know she's seen my book, read my shit.

I can't concentrate now, and the 15 minutes until lunch seems to drag on forever. It's really like I'm on a bomb now, just waiting and waiting, not knowing for sure when it's going to go off.

At last the bell rings, and I'm sprinting off before anyone can stop me, planning a strongly worded speech in my head along the way. The pattern of my footsteps hitting the ground winds me up more, and by the time i'm throwing open the door I'm so mad I can hardly stop myself bursting into angry tears.

Jess is no where to be seen. All that's here is the teacup that has been stuck back together, and another note in that spidery handwriting.

It makes my heart skip a beat.

Those 6 words mean so much.

"you aren't alone, let me in."

I want to, but can I chance it?