since eighth grade. → markiplier

Chapter Forty-Two: Secrets Revealed

Chapter Forty-Two: Secrets Revealed

*is working on next chapter immediately*

Ellie

Once we had finished showering, we both dry our hair and get changed, preparing to head downstairs and eat some breakfast. Thankfully, the effect of the smell of cooking meat had worn off, leaving me with a strong stomach despite how nauseous I felt due to morning sickness.

I sat at the table beside Mark, a small smile spreading on my lips as Tom’s wife, Kaya, sits opposite me, her long, blonde hair cascading in a waterfall of golden curls on her shoulders. I can definitely see the resemblance in her and her daughter Lauren, who has hair almost identical to her mothers.

Sarah sits to the left of me, and spares a worrying glance. She leans towards my ear and swallows audibly, obviously nervous about something.

“Uh… I may or may not have told Lauren about your and Mark’s… current situation.” She mumbles, pulling away with a wounded expression on her face, clearly guilty about what she had done. I take a deep breath, smiling and shaking my head.

“We can talk about that later,” I whisper, arching an eyebrow. “Let’s eat out breakfast first, though.” I decide, plucking my fork from the table before digging into my hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. Whilst eating, I glance over at Lauren and spot her eyes on me already, gazing after me like a hawk staring longingly at a mouse. When my eyes meet hers, she flicks her gaze away and stares down at her plate of nearly untouched food.

“Are you going to eat something, Lauren?” Her mother asks, taking a sip of orange juice whilst looking at her daughter with a worried expression. Lauren shrugs, pushing her plate forwards.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat something, Lauren,” Her mother says, placing down her glass. “You’ve been avoiding a lot of food lately. I think this is something we need to discuss-“

“Did you really not hear me?” She angrily asks, knitting her eyebrows together in a frown. “I said, mother, I’m not hungry.” She repeats, standing up. Her chair groans on the ground as she shoves it away, walking in direction of the garden. I look over to Mark, who has a tired, worried look on his face.

“I really hate to pry, and you know this, but I’d really like to know what’s wrong with her. Maybe I can help.” I tell Mark, my eyebrows upturned with concern.

“Let me talk to her first, then I’ll explain,” Mark sighs, picking himself up off of the chair. “She’s a tough nut to crack, but I usually get through to her.” He says, and Tom nods in agreement.

“Mark has been helping us deal with Lauren’s condition for a while now.” Kaya says, sniffing a little. Tom wraps his arm around her shoulder, holding her tight. I feel a great urge to ask about Laurens condition, but I know that it would be rude to ask. I press my lips together and hold my tongue, willing myself to stay silent. Everybody else at the table stays silent, not even moving, knowing that breaking the silence would be impolite. The tension in the air is so thick I feel as if I could cut it open with a knife, and I really wish that I could. It’s stressing everybody out.

Around fifteen minutes later, Mark returns with a pale, shaking Lauren under his arm. She wipes under her eyes, blinking rapidly. Her eyelashes are dotted with crystal tears, proving that she had been crying quite a lot.

“She wants to talk to you.” Mark says quietly, and it takes me a while to realize that he is referring to me.

“M-me?” I question, feeling a rush of pride race up my neck.

“Yeah.” Lauren confirms, sniffing.

“Okay.” I say quietly, standing from the chair. I follow her into the spare room that she is sleeping in with her sister, Sarah, and sit myself on the bed beside her.

“I know.” She mutters, looking up at me sadly.

“Know what?”

“Not about what you’re thinking – well, I do know about the pregnancy, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” She explains, her voice nasally. “Your… depression, I guess.”

“I’ve never been depressed-“

“Never been diagnosed,” She corrects me, and I freeze at that, letting the information sink in. I had always thought that I was depressed, but I had pushed that thought away, feeling as if I were pathetic and looking for attention. “Many people may not see them, Ellie, but I do.”

“See what?” I question, a little confused.

“Your scars. On the inside of your forearm. They’re quite noticeable, actually.” She tells me, taking a deep, shaky breath. “How did you stop?”

“Lauren, are you telling me that-“

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” She mutters, tapping her hips, indicating that it is littered with cuts and scars. I take in a sharp breath, my eyes watering from the shock and the pain of the memories. “And I want to know how to stop.”

“I… I found something that made me happy,” I admit, my mind racing. “YouTube, for starters. And then… Mark. He stopped most of it without realizing. Just knowing that he is mine makes me smile.”

“Who do I have?” She asks, looking down blankly at the floor.

“What do you mean? You have your family, your friends-“

“I don’t have any friends.”

“Remind me, how old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

“I didn’t have any friends at your age, either. Mark and I only began talking when we were forced to sit next to each other in Math, actually – I was fourteen then,” I admit, biting my lip. “I’m not going to tell you that everything is all sunshine and rainbows, but, honestly Lauren, things do get better. It’s like your flipping a coin every day during depression – you will soon land on the happy side of things, Lauren. Trust me.”

“I trust you.” She tells me, closing her eyes tightly.

“Now, what do you use?” I ask her, and she reaches for her drawer immediately. She pulls out a little strip of silk, unravelling the smooth material to produce six blades. She scoops them up, though, not trusting me. “Give them to me.”

“No.” She refuses, shaking her head.

“It feels awful having them torn from your grasp, doesn’t it?” I ask her, knowing the feeling of a small part of your soul being torn away when you lose grasp on the things you use to harm. “Lauren, just give them to me,” Before she can interrupt, I hold up my hand to stop her. “I won’t throw them away. I will just keep them with me. Just test how long you can last without touching them,” I offer, and I watch as her fist shakes. She sighs, dropping the blades into my palm. I tuck them away after folding them into their silk, smiling at her. “You’re being incredibly strong. Stronger than I ever was.”

I did this to try and prove something. When you were first introduced to Lauren, you immediately thought that she was going to be bitchy and sour, didn’t you? At least, that’s the impression I tried to give. That’s why I made Ellie call her ‘somewhat bitter’. I thought that this would set your opinion on her, so I did this. Don’t judge too quickly – you never know what somebody is hiding.