Broken || Little Mix ||

Chapter 18 - E

**TRIGGER WARNING**

Leigh-Anne's alarm screams through the room just a few hours later, causing a collective groan to escape everyone's lips. I try to stretch my arms out and get some more blood flowing into my hands but Leigh definitely bandaged them too tight. My hands are tingly, numb, and feel extremely swollen. Leigh tries to wrestle Jesy's blanket off of her to get her up and out of the bed.

"I'm going to go shower and get ready," I say to no one in particular.

"I'll come with you," Leigh immediately volunteers.

I shoot her a look and she shoots one right back at me, telling me to keep my mouth shut and not argue. I do roll my eyes as I climb off the bed to try and signal my annoyance but she either doesn't notice or she doesn't care. She follows me back to my room directly on my heels. Leigh goes straight into my bathroom while I grab a change of clothes. When I round the corner to turn the shower on, I'm greeted with the sight of her sifting through all the contents of what was formerly in my makeup and bathroom bags.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" I scream at her.

She doesn't flinch at my raised voice. She seemed to be expecting the bad reaction.

"Going through your things and getting rid of these," she says holding up my four blades.

Instead of summoning guilt in me at the sight of them, anger courses through me as I realize she's seriously going to throw them out.

"What in the fuck gives you the idea that you have the right to go through and throw out my stuff?" I ask. My aggressive edge is back in my tone and it's turned all the way up to its max level.

"The fact that last night you used them to tear your arms to shreds," she replies curtly before putting them in her pocket. She doesn't even trust me enough to throw them out in the bathroom. Finally, it seems like one of them is using their brains about this situation.

"Leigh I'm not playing. Put everything back where you found it. Everything."

My threatening demeanor doesn't even come close to fazing her. She crosses her arms over her chest and just stares at me.

"Well, we're at an impasse then because I'm not budging on this one."

I stare her down for a few more seconds before realizing my attempt is futile. They're replaceable. I can always find more later.

"You know you guys are fucking ridiculous," I spit out.

She just shrugs. "You'll thank us someday."

I turn around and angrily turn the shower on, not bothering to wait for her to leave before undressing and getting in. She leaves but makes sure to keep the bathroom door open, causing another burst of anger to flow through me. I furiously rip the bandages off my arms, throwing them in the corner of the shower.

Part of me knows that I'm getting angry over things that I probably shouldn't. If the roles were reversed, I know I would be doing the same, if not, probably more. I try to take a deep breath, but it doesn't relax me as well as it usually does. After a few minutes in the hot water though, I feel the tension ease out of my muscles.

Without the ball of fiery rage in my chest, I feel completely disconnected and numb. My body feels like a hollow encasement of which I'm trapped in and my entire being longs for the bite of my metal friends. I struggle to go through the usual motions of a daily shower and I end up curled on the floor with the water set to as high of a temperature as it will allow. By the time I'm drying off, I feel utterly exhausted.