Judged

Chapter 11

Warning: Thischaptermightbeatriggerforsome, althoughitisinnowayintendedtobe.

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"What a Catch, Donnie" by Fall Out Boy --------->
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Chapter Eleven

Harper Jackson is a such a little whore.

I heard she's in a mental institution right now.

She's a crazy bitch.

Harper is just an attention seeker.

Ya that's why she cuts herself.

What a fucking psycho!

Tears stream down my face as I'm scrolling through all of the comments on a facebook page called "Harper Jackson Hate Club." There's no doubt in my mind that Kaley is the one who created it.

But others are joining in, too. They're saying all of these horrible things about me. What did I ever do to them? And they're spreading rumors that just aren't true.

I don't cut myself. I've thought about it, but have been too scared to actually follow through with it. It doesn't seem like such a bad idea now.

Anything would feel better than this. Maybe it'll take my mind off of it. Dinner ended two hours ago so everybody probably already went home. My parents are most likely in bed. No one to catch me.

I shut my laptop and sit on my bed for a moment trying to make myself change my mind. I wipe a tear from my cheek and sulkily go over to my desk.

I grab my unused pencil sharpener from one of the drawers, hassle to undo the screw, and free the razor from it. Finally the little screw comes out, and I pull the metal razor piece from the plastic part of the sharpener.

I toss the plastic part into the wastebin by my desk, and pull up the left sleeve of my hoodie. I turn my wrist up facing the sky, and start moving my right hand with the little piece of metal in it, towards my left wrist.

My eyes are free of tears now. I don't feel anything. Unless numb counts. Yeah, that's it. I feel numb. Like this body isn't mine, and I'm an innocent bystander just watching someone else about to harm themselves. Someone else is holding the small blade. Someone else is about to bleed. That's how I feel.

The blade is just barely hovering over my skin now. I'm holding it at an angle, ready to push it down and cut a horizontal line.

"It won't make you feel better," Declan's voice rings in my ears. I slowly look up, almost like I'm in a daze or a trance. Declan is casually leaning against my doorframe, watching me with a knowing look and a hint of concern. I was sure I had locked the door.

"How did you get in here?" I ask him.

"I knocked but you didn't answer, so I opened the door. You didn't even notice?"

There's a lump in my throat. I must have been really out of it to not notice all of that going on.

"U-um, no." He nods and strides over to me. Like he's on a mission. He takes my right hand in his and that's when I realize I've still been holding the blade all this time. He slowly uncurls my fingers and releases it from my grasp.

Just as fast as he strided over to me, he leaves the room, the tiny blade swallowed up in his big hand. I hear the toilet across the hall flush and Declan returns moments later.

"Why did you do that?" I wonder weakly. I sit down on my bed and fold my legs up to my chest, my chin resting on my knees.

"Harper," Declan begins while he joins me in sitting on the bed. "cutting yourself isn't going to help anything. You might think it will, and maybe it does for a couple of seconds. It distracts you from how you feel for the slightest moment, gives you a little bit of relief from the thoughts in your head. But when that stops, when those thoughts in your head finally go away, and trust me, they will, you'll be left with scars. Scars that remind you of how bad you once felt."

I looked down at my feet while Declan talked, only glancing up every once in awhile to make sure he knew I was listening. And I was. What he said is true. All of it.

I gaze into his hazel eyes and for once, I don't feel so alone.

"Wow Declan, that was really uh, heartfelt," I say, and he smiles. "I'm glad to know you have one." I smirk.

"Hey!" He accuses. I start giggling and he laughs a little too, nervously running his hand up and down the length of his arm.

"What made you do it?" He asks me. "Well, almost do it, until I interrupted you."

I stay silent for a few seconds, contemplating on if I should open up to Declan or not. He already saw me try to cut myself, I don't want him to think lesser of me.

"It's just," I stop, tears start to well up in my eyes again. "it's everything, okay?" My voice raises. "It's.. Everything," I whisper as the tears spill over. I hide my face in my hands so Declan can't see me.

"Hey, hey, Harper," Declan soothes as he gently pulls my hands from my face. "It'll be okay, trust me."

"How would you know?" I ask, but it comes out more like a whine.

"Because... I've been there," he admits with a sad glimmer in his eye. I get distracted when he pulls his right jacket sleeve up, and my eyes widen when I notice over a dozen faint white horizontal scars.

I look into his eyes and it occurs to me that I really don't know the boy in front of me or what he's been through.

"I know how you feel, Harp."

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Authors note: comment and vote? :) P.S. Doesn't Dylan O'Brien (Declan) look so adorable? ;D