pandemonium and shattered glass hearts.

8.

Picture a girl, with golden curls, and clothes in every shade of pink imaginable.

A girl with a grin six miles wide, the type of grin that can light up a room.

Back then she was still little Lucinda, her parents were still mummy and daddy, and the worst that ever happened to her was running out of pink bubble bath.

A girl that didn't know how blessed her life actually was.

Then came boarding school, and that girl became bitter.

She had no reason, no excuse.

Her pink clothes became anything that can hide her, her grin became a painted on smile, as fake as she felt.

Her parents became strangers, and the worst thing that could happen to her was running out of sharp blades.

It's funny how time changes people, isn't it?

Luces pov

It's hot. Too hot. The last thing I can remember is the beach, shivering in the sand, trying to hold on to any slim dredges of life.

But now I can't feel sand at all, I'm wrapped in something smooth.

It's getting hotter every time I move just a little.

I can hear voices, hushed as though they want to keep whatever they're on about a secret.

My whole body feels like I've been sucked into hell and spat back out. A reject of hell.

I guess that's what I am now.

Occasional shudders make me feel uneasy, and the voices are getting louder and more frantic.

Then there's a sharp sting in my arm, and it strikes me that they know. Whoever is here, whoever is stabbing me, they know.

All those years of keeping it a secret, was kind of heavy.

A burden that I couldn't help, a weight that was like wings on me. Attached, and something nobody can know about.

I can feel the movement around me, the air changes as different moves are made.

Then to my right there's a sudden dip in the thing I'm laying on.

And a hand over mine, sending little warm shots up my arm.

There's no way I want to wake up, face what I've done and failed.

I don't want to see the pity written all over people's faces, like lyrics to a sad and pity full ballad.

I don't want to go have to confess to myself that I'm a failure.

So instead I let myself fall backwards, breaking the surface of blackness.

It's safer here, there's nothing. Nothing at all except me, and my own thoughts. But then again, being alone probably isn't a very smart idea...

Jess's pov

The hospital is empty, the only two in the emergency room are me and Luce.

She's still blacked out, even though I made her throw up a lot on the beach. They've pumped her full of stuff to counteract the drugs she took, stitched her up.

I'm wrapped up in a reflective blanket, I'm drenched and shivering. I haven't stopped shivering.

My minds a mess, there are all these new experiences and thoughts that I can't stop.

I'm terrified Luce won't wake up, I'm scared maybe I've screwed it up forever.

I can't block out all the insanity going on, and it feels like I'm in a crowded room, even though I know the room is empty.

I've been writing and re-writing speeches and excuses this whole time, trying to convince myself that I'll get out of this one.

But all that's coming to mind are fairy tales, snow white, sleeping beauty. Both girls are put under spells, both sleep for what seems an eternity.

Both are awoken by a kiss, supposedly 'true loves first kiss' is what fixes them.

Even if I had the guts to kiss Luce, I'm not her true love, and it wouldn't be her first kiss.

I know that how I feel runs deep, deeper than anything I've ever known. And despite the way I've been raised I know that this is right.

I'm so caught up in my own tangled thoughts that I jump when the nurse touches my arm lightly. She tells me that they've arranged me a ride back to school, and that I'm perfectly healthy.

I give her a half smile, even though my face feels like it'll break.

On the way out of the room, on impulse, I kiss Luce on her wrist.

Of course, nothing happens. She doesn't even flinch.

Stupid fairy tales.