Happy Anniversary.

22. Somewhere In Neverland.

Five times. Five times I woke up in the dead of night, the pain, whether physical or mental, being the cause. The first three times, my parents' laughter filled my ears the second I was coherent, floating upstairs as they did God knows what. I couldn't be more thankful that both of my siblings were away for the night. With the pain I was in, I wasn't sure if I would have been able to protect them from this.

When my alarm went of precisely at 6am, rolling over to turn it off was more painful than the time I exercised with my mom for two days straight. Groaning, I pushed up the light t-shirt I'd fallen asleep in.

My fingers glided across my tender torso, littered with blue and purple and green splotches. I didn't even want to begin to examine the rest of my body. I considered skipping school, but I found myself being more terrified to stay home all day with my parents, who had the day of, than sticking it out through the school day.

I limped as I scurried to the bathroom, praying I didn't run into my parents. I knew they were drunk last night, but I wasn't risking the off-chance that they remembered everything that happened last night. Creeping past their door, I heard a snoring sound coming from my dad. As they both drove to work together on most days, that was my clue that they must have taken the day off. They were usually gone before I even woke up.

I tried as hard as I could not to look at myself in the shower, or even think about my experience last night. I knew if I thought about it for long enough I would lose it. I couldn't lose it today.

I inhaled sharply as the steaming hot water touched my thighs, remembering the aftermath of my parents' decisions on my mental wellbeing. Gingerly, I cleaned up the mess I had made, bandaging it once I had gotten out of the shower. It was a hassle to wash blood out of jeans, so I wasn't taking the risk of having to do that later. Finding the loosest pair of denim jeans I owned, I slid them up my legs slowly, completing the outfit with a plain black t-shirt, gray jacket, and gray beanie. Finding the shoes that would take the least effort to put on,- which ended up being black vans- I grabbed my bag for school and keys and went downstairs. Deciding on a simple bagel for breakfast, I was out of the house in minutes.

I hadn't had the chance to check my phone before I left, so I did while my car warmed up in the frigid Baltimore air. A few social media notifications and a text from Alex.

I'm so sorry for last night. I already miss seeing you. I found myself smiling at his cuteness, realizing I felt the same.

There's no need for an apology. As long as you're alright. I miss you too <3

I hope the rest of your night wasn't as shitty as mine! Although he couldn't see me at the moment or tell if I lied to him, I froze. Should I tell him? I couldn't think of any good that would do. Sure, maybe I would have someone to talk to it about, but at the same time, Alex was going through so much and I couldn't bear to put one more negative thing on his mind. I didn't want him wasting his time worrying about me instead of taking care of himself. Also, it's not like he could do much for me anyways if he did know.

My brain was at war over how to answer, so in the end, I decided to avoid it altogether. Did you hurt yourself? Be honest.

I was scared to look at the response, so I started driving, telling myself I could look once I arrived at school. I was going to be late for first period if I didn't leave now, anyways. I heard my phone vibrate in the console seconds after I pulled out, but, with much self control, I kept my eyes on the road and my promise to myself and didn't look until I pulled into the school's parking lot.

...Only a little bit. It's not bad, I swear. Please don't tell Ri. I don't want him freaking out on me right now. I promise I'm safe; they aren't that deep. As much as I hated seeing that he hurt himself, I was relieved to hear he was safe. I couldn't help calling myself a hypocrite the entire way to first period, though, for thinking that as my jeans chafed against the bandage on my leg. I could only pray the bleeding didn't start again. That was the last thing I needed.