Anywhere But Here

Chapter 2

I get woken up roughly by someone shaking me.

I look around frantically thinking something bad was happening but when I see my surroundings, I realize that what ever bad happened, already occurred, and I frowned.

I look up and see all five of the guys just looking at me.

"What?" I snap at them, the nightmare I just had, fresh in my mind.

They don't answer me but keep looking at me. I look down at myself, consciously, but don't see anything unusual.

"Which one of you dumbasses woke me up?" I look back at them and ask rudely.

"I did." Zayn says, like it was the most obvious thing ever.

"Why'd you wake me up?" I ask, a little less rudely this time but still rude enough.

"You were screaming and crying in your sleep. You scared us." He say calmly, ignoring my tone.

"Leave me alone." I tell them, waiting for them to leave.

Once they left I got out of bed, and went into my locked suitcase and unlocked it. I found my blades, and grabbed one, then locked my suitcase. I grabbed two towels; one for my hair and one for my body.

I walked out of the room and looked around for the bathroom. I couldn't find it so I walked downstairs, and found one of the boys; Louis.

"Uh, where's the bathroom?" I ask him, tiredly.

"Right across the hallway from your room, make a left." He tells me without even glancing at me, not that I cared.

I don't say thank you, because I'm not thankful.

I follow the directions he gave me and found the bathroom, it was far from my room, but not too far.

I lock myself in the bathroom, turned on the shower and for the first time since I got here , I cried.

I cried for my grandmother, I cried for my nightmare, I cried for the situation I was put into. I just cried, but once I finished, I stripped naked and sat in the tub with the shower on.

I took the blade off of the small rug, next to the tub.

I stared at it.

I haven't cut in a while, my grandmother always prevented me from doing so. She tried to take me to many therapists, bust each one told her that I wouldn't talk, which was true.

Even if I took my anger out on the therapists, they would tell me to keep going, and I would end up giving them a black eye and a busted lip. So I just stopped, I stopped talking to them; at all.

I took the blade and sliced it against my skin. I felt the burning sting of it and I started to relax a little.

I missed the feeling of this cold metal that makes me feel good. It's like a drug, once you start, you can't stop. And even if you do stop, you're able to start again, and you will always have it in the back of your mind.

I started cutting more, and not just my wrists and arms, but my thighs too.

Once I was satisfied, I stared to actually take a shower.

------------------------------------

By the time I finished my shower, it was eight o' clock, my eyes were red and puffy, and my wrists and thighs were covered in deep, harsh, red marks.

I wrapped my hair into a towel, and wrapped my body with another towel.

I looked at my arms and thighs; how am I going to hide all this shit.