Hi everyone

This is my first ever Chasing Life Fanfiction! I really hope you all enjoy it! Please leave me comments, constructive criticism, and feedback! :)

This story is about Brenna struggling with all of the stress in her life. It might also feature heartfelt moments with April, Sara, and Greer. This story contains self harm, so please read it with caution.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you have a great day! 3

As fanfiction rules state, I must declare that I do not own Chasing Life or anything associated with it. I am simply a fan who loves the characters and likes to write about them.

I awake with a jolt. My eyes fly open as I gasp for air. My heart is pounding, I can't breathe, and I'm shaking. I look at the alarm clock next to my bed. It's 1:30 in the morning. I stumbled to the bathroom attached to my room and splash cold water onto my face with trembling hands. Calm down, Brenna. Breathe.

My face is flushed pink, and I can see sweat dripping down my cheeks and hairline. I put my hand on my chest and close my eyes. Taking slow, steady breathes; I give myself an internal pep talk. It was just a dream, it isn't real. April isn't dead. She's in the hospital. She's safe. The doctors are looking after her. It isn't your fault.

Calming down a little, I lean against the bathroom wall and slide to the floor. I feel the tight sensation in my throat that accompanies tears. As a sob chokes its way through my chest, I bury my face in my knees. Snot runs along my pajama bottoms and puddles on the floor in a slimy mess. Saliva trickles from my mouth and stains the old sweatshirt of April's I'm wearing. I clench the fabric in my hands and hold it to my face. I know that it's silly, but I do it anyways. I breathe in deeply, trying to catch her scent. I need her comfort right now. But I don't smell anything aside from my perfume masking the fact that I haven't taken the sweatshirt off in weeks.

I stand up and look at my puffy face in the mirror. My cheeks are tearstained and my eyes are swollen and red.

"I hate myself." I say to no one in particular. I wipe my eyes and think about how awful of a person I truly am. I know that I didn't cause it, but I feel like I'm responsible for April getting cancer. I wanted something bad to happen to her so I wouldn't be the "horrible daughter" anymore. I wanted to see her mess up so she wouldn't be so perfect. I hated hearing about her job, her boyfriends, having to watch her and Mom laugh together, and being told how I should "try to be more like her". I just wanted to not be such a disappointment in our family for once.

I've also messed up Greer's life. Greer was one of the first people I felt comfortable and safe around in a long time. I knew that I could be myself around her and speak my mind and she'd still accept me. I took advantage of her kindness and support. I was selfish for dragging her to meet Natalie. I should have never gone. I messed everything up with my old friends, and now I eat lunch alone. I've become such a monster, and I'll never forgive myself.

I clench my stomach as it becomes nauseated from all the tears. Every time my phone rings I'm scared that it's going to be bad news about April. Though I know it's not in my control, I can't stop beating myself up over not being a bone marrow match for April. What if we can't find a match? If she dies it's going to be my entire fault! I think as tears continue to slide down my face and my heart continues to beat faster. My head then starts to spin, and I clench the sink and squeeze it till my knuckles turn white. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I know what I need to do in order to calm myself down.

I spin around and bang my fist against the bathroom wall. With a crash, the framed picture of an ocean my Mother had hung up after we took a family vacation to the beech a few years ago falls to the floor and shatters. Pieces of glass crunch beneath my slippers and I kick them out of the way and sit on the toilet. The crash doesn't wake my Mom up. Though I didn't mean for the picture to fall, I was hoping my Mother would hear the noise and come to check on me, but she didn't. She's never come to check on me when I wake up screaming and crying at night. I can hear her snoring through the walls in the room next to mine.

No wonder she's never come. I'm a horrible daughter. She doesn't care about anyone except April. I reach into the cabinet next to the shower, and dig through a pile of hair ties and bobby pins till I find what I'm looking for, a shiny silver razor. I cradle the piece of metal in my palm while I try to decide if I'm really going to do this. Is it really worth it?

You mess everything up. It's your fault that April is dying. You're a horrible person. You're selfish and you can't do anything right. Rolling up my left sleeve, I slide the blade across my forearm. Each slice relaxes me as blood trickles out of my arm and onto the tiled floor.

The four parallel lines I made burn as I place the blade back into the cabinet. I take a deep breath and watch the blood stain my skin. After the sudden feeling of calm wears off, an ashamed, panicked feeling takes over. I clean the wounds and wrap a fresh bandage around them.

I crawl back into bed and bury my face in my pillow. For some reason, cutting has helped me deal with all of what's going on. The pain calms me down, and it's something that I can control, unlike April's cancer. I know that I shouldn't hurt myself, but now that Greer is gone, I don't know how else to cope with everything going on. She was the only person that I could talk to about everything, and now I have no one.

Lying in bed, I roll down my sleeve and the study the cuts I've made. No one can know about this. It's too embarrassing, it's just going to be my secret way of dealing with all of this anxiety until everything goes back to normal again, if it ever does. I then fall into a restless, dreamless sleep until my alarm interrupts and pushes me back into reality.