What's So Good About Picking Up the Pieces? (Vic Fuentes FanFiction)

Between You and I

Finally an update!! Sorry it took so long I've been wrestling with how I wanted to continue!

This chapter may take some people by surprise and it may seem to come out of the blue, but I hope you still enjoy it. I felt it was a side of the character that needed to be explored, so I decided to fit it in right here!

Let me know what ya think :) Enjoyyyyyy!!!!

Lyla's P.OV:

I could faintly hear the sounds of my phone ringing somewhere off in the distance. It seemed far away, the sounds of "Second & Sebring" sounded muffled. As I pulled myself out of my alcohol-induced slumber the ringing became louder, almost too loud for my pounding head to stand.

I reached over to the nightstand, knowing it was Austin who was calling me, but as I tried to grab my phone I knocked it off the nightstand instead, the phone crashing to the floor with a loud thud. The ringtone died off as the call went to voicemail; I had no energy to crawl out of my little cocoon to call him back.

I pressed my hands to my face trying to halt the ringing in my ears and the pounding in my brain, but it was to no avail. I opened one eye slowly, than the other as I glanced at the room around me. It was only then did I feel a pair of arms around me; it was then the memories of last night came flooding back in one fell swoop: a lot of drinking, dancing and making out with Alan, and Vic; he followed me to my room......we fought......and then he kissed me. He said he loved me. And now here we are.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Vic laying behind me, his arms wrapped around me loosely, still lost in sleep. He looked peaceful. And gorgeous. I pulled myself out of his grip and slowly out of the warm bed, the room spinning around me as I gripped onto the night stand for support.I walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind me slowly, gripping the counter for dear life as the tears welled up in my eyes.

I wasn't sad; I was mad. Mad at myself. How could I have let this happen? What good could come of Vic and I having sex while we were both completely trashed? I knew those things he said to me were from the alcohol; he didn't love me, how could he? He was the one who broke up with me and never looked back. And now look at me: I'm a complete mess, my life is a mess; there's no way he could love me; he just wanted in my pants, probably to make himself feel better about how big of an asshole he was.

I rubbed my head and pulled out my toiletries bag, trying unsuccessfully to find some ibuprofen or something to kill this headache. I cursed under my breath when I couldn't find any, but my heart slowed as my fingers brushed agasint a piece of cool metal at the bottom of the bag. I gripped it and pulled it out, staring at my dear old friend through tear-filled eyes.

I hadn't touched the razor blade in over a year; I had even forgotten it was buried in the bottom of my bag. I twirled it between my fingers as I contemplated everything, as I contemplated how fucked up my life was. I sat down leaning my back against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest as I eyed the shiny piece of metal. I turned my wrist over and stared at the old, faded scars that were still somewhat visible.

The old feelings of fear and despair overtook me, and I felt as if I was no longer in control, like I was watching myself, unable to do anything. I brought the blade down to my wrist slowly, allowing the cold metal to hover slightly over my tanned skin before making contact. I dragged the blade across my wrist slowly, not going as deep as I used to. The pain was immediate and I sucked in a sharp breath as the tears welled in my eyes once again. I didn't stop, and soon the pain was replaced with relief, just as I had hoped. As the blood began to pour out of my open wrist I felt free again; it seemed as if nothing mattered anymore; the pain, the anger, the hate; it was all gone.