Fall to Pieces
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Chapter One: Past Lives
I barely ever sleep. Seriously. I can go days without closing my eyes for more than five minutes. My insomnia must have started when I was younger, but I'm not exactly sure when. It's not something I keep track of and write in my daily planner. It's like a routine. Every night, I finish my homework, do whatever until I look at the clock and realize any normal teenager would be sleeping right now, brush my teeth, and get in bed. I turn off the lights in my room every night and just lay there. I close my eyes, I try counting sheep, count from 100 backwards, but nothing ever works. So then I usually just stare at the posters on my walls until my alarm goes off. I remember going to school one day in like the sixth grade. I was so tired I couldn't even see straight. I must have looked like an idiot walking down the hall, swerving in and out, not even walking a straight line. The last thing I can remember is my best friend Zeke asking me if I was okay before I passed out in his arms.
I woke up in a hospital. It turns out I had a bad case of exhaustion. Whatever. All I cared about was the fact that I had needles sticking out of my arms. I guess I had also kind of forgotten to eat for a few days. My mom rushed in as soon as she learned I had woken up. She was so upset. My mom really cares about me, but sometimes it's hard for her to show it. Probably because she's never home to begin with. She owns a really successful interior design firm and is always at the office. You could call her a workaholic. My dad is in the army. Besides that, he owns a few businesses- all successful. My parents are barely ever home so I can pretty much do what I want. Like not eat and not sleep.
So the doctors prescribed me some sleeping pills. Take one before I go to bed. Only thing is, I started to get addicted to them. I mean, when you're sleeping, you don't have to think about all the shit going on in your life. So I'd start to take them as much as I could and my teachers didn't really appreciate me falling asleep in their class. So I had to go off of the sleeping pills once they found out I had taken all 48 in a matter of two weeks.
Why am I saying this? I don't know. Maybe because it's 4:30 am and in two hours I'll have to get up and get ready for school. Except now I'm a sophomore. And I no longer live in Montreal and go to Rookwood Academy, the most prestigious private school in Canada. Now I go to Degrassi High School. It's okay. I have some great friends there. Okay, three friends... but who's counting, right? It's not as hard academically as Rookwood was, not even close, but I still learn. I guess you could say I sort of miss my old life. I mean, things were so much simpler then. And right now, I'm keeping my past secret from everyone so I constantly have this huge, like, chip on my shoulder. It's not that I'm embarrassed by who I was before, but it's just better that no one knows. That part of my life is in the past.
Everyone thinks I'm this huge freak at Degrassi. If it weren't for Marco, I don't know what I would have done when I first transferred here. It was the second semester of freshman year, the year of all my problems. My parents had decided that I needed to get away from everything that was bad back in Montreal. Believe me, my life has not been easy. I used to have it so good back in seventh and eighth grade. I was so popular and, yeah, some things happened to me that majorly sucked, but it wasn't as bad as what freshman year had in store for me.
I was such a slut. No one would believe it now, but, yeah, I led a fast life. Of course, when I first came to Degrassi, the guys were all about getting my number, but I always said no. I think I wanted to start over or turn a new leaf or however it's said. The guys saw how short I could wear my skirt and they were intrigued. If they only knew... I've always wanted to be loved and accepted. My parents love me, that's for sure. My dad never says no to me. I'm his little girl. My mom is always telling him that he has to learn, but he can't resist. My mom is more like a friend. One that I never see, but a friend nonetheless. But it was never enough for me. I was a very high-strung child. I was constantly on the verge of having nervous breakdowns because I'm so competitive and I want to be the best at everything. I've never received a grade lower than an A until this one quiz in math this year. I failed it because I didn't do my homework- another first for me. I've always been the good girl at schoolwork. Always doing her homework, always getting A's, always having the highest average. And I like it that way. I love showing others up. I'm what people call a perfectionist. But in my quest to be the best at everything, I kind of forgot to be a little kid. I grew up just way too fast. No matter how well I did, I always felt like it was never enough. I just wanted my parents to be proud of me. I should have realized that they were.
So while I was being busy at being perfect, I met this guy. I was in seventh grade, and he was a sophomore. We shared the same art period. While I was hammering some jewelry out, he was sketching in his book. I didn't realize he had been sketching me the entire time. When I came in the next day a picture of me was hanging on the display wall. It was incredible. I was so busy admiring it, I didn't realize he was standing right next to me. We started talking and we realized we had quite a lot in common. So he asked me to the movies. I was shocked, he was four years older than me. Of course I said yes.
I wanted to impress him so much. We didn't see too much of the movie. I don't even remember what movie it was. He was too busy trying to get in my pants. And I let him. I didn't want to seem like this huge baby, plus, I thought I was ready. I seriously thought that he was something incredibly special. So we did it. Twice. The first time, yeah, it was awkward and kind of weird. We were in his tiny little car and my head kept hitting the door. The second time, though, wow... Yeah, I enjoyed it. A lot. After that night, all I wanted was to feel that way again. He had made me feel so special and loved, and I wanted to continue feeling that way. So I started wearing my uniform skirt a lot shorter. Every Friday when we dressed out, I wore the most revealing outfit I could get away with. Every guy was fair game and every guy usually took me up on my offers.
So I was very popular. But I don't like to think it was only because I was a whore, but also because I was genuinely nice. You would think every girl at Rookwood Academy would hate me. Sure, there were some who did, but, basically, I was well liked by everyone. I never treated anyone badly. I was a good person, just a bit loose...I'm not going to go into the full details of my sex life. Let's just say there was a lot of it. And there was one huge problem I got myself into. I got pregnant. And got rid of it. I made an older friend of mine take me. The place was shady, but I got what I paid for. I'm not saying I didn't regret it. Or still don't. God, I'm like one of those stupid teenagers you read about in some magazine or watch on Oprah.
At the beginning of eighth grade, however, I changed. There was this guy- Breydon. He was this huge jock, and I thought I hated him. He tormented me every chance he could. Yeah, so it turned out he had this huge crush on me ever since he met me. I was kind of flattered and kind of glad because he was really cute. So we started going out. I mean, really going out. This wasn't just some guy who I screwed- he was the real deal. Yeah right, the real deal in eighth grade? I'm not kidding. It was beautiful. So basically, I stopped being the whore of Rookwood and became the steady girl of Breydon Jackson. He was two years older than me and drove this killer car. Sometimes we would just take off and go on the most ridiculously long road trips. We'd take pictures of anything that struck us as odd or funny. We dated for almost year. It would have been longer, too. At the beginning of the summer before my freshman year, Breydon was on his way over to my house to pick me up. I was making him take me to this Shakespeare festival a few hours away. Except he never came. The phone rang later. My dad sat me down a few hours later and told me that Breydon had lost control of his car and crashed. He died instantly.
I shrugged. I shrugged when I heard. Then I demanded that my dad take me to the festival. My dad couldn't even look at me in the eyes. They decided that I needed to stay home that night and relax. The visitation was going to be the next day. I snuck out that night and went clubbing. I didn't even call Zeke to tell him or talk to him. The next morning, my parents couldn't find me. I had stayed out all night, gotten wasted, and slept at some random guy's place. I can't even remember to this day whether we had sex or not. This behavior lasted the whole summer. My friends became disgusted with me and wouldn't even talk to me. I guess I had blown them off for the last time. I just partied every chance I could and didn't even care that I was hurting the people around me. When freshmen year came, no one could relate to me. No one wanted to be my friend. I didn't really care. I just concentrated on being the best and not thinking of Breydon. I did a pretty good job at it. I had a few meaningless flings with guys -one who was quite a bit older than me. I won't even say his age, but nothing that lasted. I was on a one way street to nowhere. Zeke wouldn't even look my way, but I could tell he was getting a little worried about me. I always caught him checking up on me. I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to die.
One day in class we were reading this poem and interpreting it. Everyone just kept saying the word "death". I flinched every time it was said, but I just kept my eyes on the book and the same expression on my face. I had become quite the actress. But then the memories of the day Breydon had died just, all of a sudden, came flooding back. I could see myself talking to my dad and shrugging before walking off. I could remember how angry I was at Breydon for ruining my day. I could remember getting drunk that night. And I just freaked out. I just got up and walked out of the room without saying a word. As soon as I hit the hallway, though, I fell sobbing. I couldn't even stand up. It hurt so badly. My teacher took me to the nurse and my mom picked me up. My parents took me to a therapist but I never talked to him. I just cried. It was then that my parents decided that we should get away from everything that was bothering me. So we moved.
And I met Marco. I had gone seven months without having a single friend and then I met Marco. He was amazing. He was supposed to show me around because I was new there. We couldn't stop talking. We had like everything in common. We were perfect for each other. I felt so guilty, but I started to develop feelings for Marco that I hadn't felt since Breydon. I hadn't been that happy since before the accident. I didn't want that feeling to end. So Marco and I spent every possible moment together. We were inseparable. I felt bad for his parents because I was constantly over there. But that didn't work out. Marco didn't feel the same way for me, and he never will. I'm not going to lie, I still kind of resent the fact that he'd rather be with Dylan than with me. It's like having a knife being stabbed into my gut every time I see them together. But Marco and I are soulmates and we are supposed to be together. So you can't really blame me. It still hurts and I'm still not completely over it, but I've started to pick the pieces back up together. With the help of Sean, that is. On the outside, I bet my life looks perfect. Let's hope it stays that way.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Chapter One: Past Lives
I barely ever sleep. Seriously. I can go days without closing my eyes for more than five minutes. My insomnia must have started when I was younger, but I'm not exactly sure when. It's not something I keep track of and write in my daily planner. It's like a routine. Every night, I finish my homework, do whatever until I look at the clock and realize any normal teenager would be sleeping right now, brush my teeth, and get in bed. I turn off the lights in my room every night and just lay there. I close my eyes, I try counting sheep, count from 100 backwards, but nothing ever works. So then I usually just stare at the posters on my walls until my alarm goes off. I remember going to school one day in like the sixth grade. I was so tired I couldn't even see straight. I must have looked like an idiot walking down the hall, swerving in and out, not even walking a straight line. The last thing I can remember is my best friend Zeke asking me if I was okay before I passed out in his arms.
I woke up in a hospital. It turns out I had a bad case of exhaustion. Whatever. All I cared about was the fact that I had needles sticking out of my arms. I guess I had also kind of forgotten to eat for a few days. My mom rushed in as soon as she learned I had woken up. She was so upset. My mom really cares about me, but sometimes it's hard for her to show it. Probably because she's never home to begin with. She owns a really successful interior design firm and is always at the office. You could call her a workaholic. My dad is in the army. Besides that, he owns a few businesses- all successful. My parents are barely ever home so I can pretty much do what I want. Like not eat and not sleep.
So the doctors prescribed me some sleeping pills. Take one before I go to bed. Only thing is, I started to get addicted to them. I mean, when you're sleeping, you don't have to think about all the shit going on in your life. So I'd start to take them as much as I could and my teachers didn't really appreciate me falling asleep in their class. So I had to go off of the sleeping pills once they found out I had taken all 48 in a matter of two weeks.
Why am I saying this? I don't know. Maybe because it's 4:30 am and in two hours I'll have to get up and get ready for school. Except now I'm a sophomore. And I no longer live in Montreal and go to Rookwood Academy, the most prestigious private school in Canada. Now I go to Degrassi High School. It's okay. I have some great friends there. Okay, three friends... but who's counting, right? It's not as hard academically as Rookwood was, not even close, but I still learn. I guess you could say I sort of miss my old life. I mean, things were so much simpler then. And right now, I'm keeping my past secret from everyone so I constantly have this huge, like, chip on my shoulder. It's not that I'm embarrassed by who I was before, but it's just better that no one knows. That part of my life is in the past.
Everyone thinks I'm this huge freak at Degrassi. If it weren't for Marco, I don't know what I would have done when I first transferred here. It was the second semester of freshman year, the year of all my problems. My parents had decided that I needed to get away from everything that was bad back in Montreal. Believe me, my life has not been easy. I used to have it so good back in seventh and eighth grade. I was so popular and, yeah, some things happened to me that majorly sucked, but it wasn't as bad as what freshman year had in store for me.
I was such a slut. No one would believe it now, but, yeah, I led a fast life. Of course, when I first came to Degrassi, the guys were all about getting my number, but I always said no. I think I wanted to start over or turn a new leaf or however it's said. The guys saw how short I could wear my skirt and they were intrigued. If they only knew... I've always wanted to be loved and accepted. My parents love me, that's for sure. My dad never says no to me. I'm his little girl. My mom is always telling him that he has to learn, but he can't resist. My mom is more like a friend. One that I never see, but a friend nonetheless. But it was never enough for me. I was a very high-strung child. I was constantly on the verge of having nervous breakdowns because I'm so competitive and I want to be the best at everything. I've never received a grade lower than an A until this one quiz in math this year. I failed it because I didn't do my homework- another first for me. I've always been the good girl at schoolwork. Always doing her homework, always getting A's, always having the highest average. And I like it that way. I love showing others up. I'm what people call a perfectionist. But in my quest to be the best at everything, I kind of forgot to be a little kid. I grew up just way too fast. No matter how well I did, I always felt like it was never enough. I just wanted my parents to be proud of me. I should have realized that they were.
So while I was being busy at being perfect, I met this guy. I was in seventh grade, and he was a sophomore. We shared the same art period. While I was hammering some jewelry out, he was sketching in his book. I didn't realize he had been sketching me the entire time. When I came in the next day a picture of me was hanging on the display wall. It was incredible. I was so busy admiring it, I didn't realize he was standing right next to me. We started talking and we realized we had quite a lot in common. So he asked me to the movies. I was shocked, he was four years older than me. Of course I said yes.
I wanted to impress him so much. We didn't see too much of the movie. I don't even remember what movie it was. He was too busy trying to get in my pants. And I let him. I didn't want to seem like this huge baby, plus, I thought I was ready. I seriously thought that he was something incredibly special. So we did it. Twice. The first time, yeah, it was awkward and kind of weird. We were in his tiny little car and my head kept hitting the door. The second time, though, wow... Yeah, I enjoyed it. A lot. After that night, all I wanted was to feel that way again. He had made me feel so special and loved, and I wanted to continue feeling that way. So I started wearing my uniform skirt a lot shorter. Every Friday when we dressed out, I wore the most revealing outfit I could get away with. Every guy was fair game and every guy usually took me up on my offers.
So I was very popular. But I don't like to think it was only because I was a whore, but also because I was genuinely nice. You would think every girl at Rookwood Academy would hate me. Sure, there were some who did, but, basically, I was well liked by everyone. I never treated anyone badly. I was a good person, just a bit loose...I'm not going to go into the full details of my sex life. Let's just say there was a lot of it. And there was one huge problem I got myself into. I got pregnant. And got rid of it. I made an older friend of mine take me. The place was shady, but I got what I paid for. I'm not saying I didn't regret it. Or still don't. God, I'm like one of those stupid teenagers you read about in some magazine or watch on Oprah.
At the beginning of eighth grade, however, I changed. There was this guy- Breydon. He was this huge jock, and I thought I hated him. He tormented me every chance he could. Yeah, so it turned out he had this huge crush on me ever since he met me. I was kind of flattered and kind of glad because he was really cute. So we started going out. I mean, really going out. This wasn't just some guy who I screwed- he was the real deal. Yeah right, the real deal in eighth grade? I'm not kidding. It was beautiful. So basically, I stopped being the whore of Rookwood and became the steady girl of Breydon Jackson. He was two years older than me and drove this killer car. Sometimes we would just take off and go on the most ridiculously long road trips. We'd take pictures of anything that struck us as odd or funny. We dated for almost year. It would have been longer, too. At the beginning of the summer before my freshman year, Breydon was on his way over to my house to pick me up. I was making him take me to this Shakespeare festival a few hours away. Except he never came. The phone rang later. My dad sat me down a few hours later and told me that Breydon had lost control of his car and crashed. He died instantly.
I shrugged. I shrugged when I heard. Then I demanded that my dad take me to the festival. My dad couldn't even look at me in the eyes. They decided that I needed to stay home that night and relax. The visitation was going to be the next day. I snuck out that night and went clubbing. I didn't even call Zeke to tell him or talk to him. The next morning, my parents couldn't find me. I had stayed out all night, gotten wasted, and slept at some random guy's place. I can't even remember to this day whether we had sex or not. This behavior lasted the whole summer. My friends became disgusted with me and wouldn't even talk to me. I guess I had blown them off for the last time. I just partied every chance I could and didn't even care that I was hurting the people around me. When freshmen year came, no one could relate to me. No one wanted to be my friend. I didn't really care. I just concentrated on being the best and not thinking of Breydon. I did a pretty good job at it. I had a few meaningless flings with guys -one who was quite a bit older than me. I won't even say his age, but nothing that lasted. I was on a one way street to nowhere. Zeke wouldn't even look my way, but I could tell he was getting a little worried about me. I always caught him checking up on me. I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to die.
One day in class we were reading this poem and interpreting it. Everyone just kept saying the word "death". I flinched every time it was said, but I just kept my eyes on the book and the same expression on my face. I had become quite the actress. But then the memories of the day Breydon had died just, all of a sudden, came flooding back. I could see myself talking to my dad and shrugging before walking off. I could remember how angry I was at Breydon for ruining my day. I could remember getting drunk that night. And I just freaked out. I just got up and walked out of the room without saying a word. As soon as I hit the hallway, though, I fell sobbing. I couldn't even stand up. It hurt so badly. My teacher took me to the nurse and my mom picked me up. My parents took me to a therapist but I never talked to him. I just cried. It was then that my parents decided that we should get away from everything that was bothering me. So we moved.
And I met Marco. I had gone seven months without having a single friend and then I met Marco. He was amazing. He was supposed to show me around because I was new there. We couldn't stop talking. We had like everything in common. We were perfect for each other. I felt so guilty, but I started to develop feelings for Marco that I hadn't felt since Breydon. I hadn't been that happy since before the accident. I didn't want that feeling to end. So Marco and I spent every possible moment together. We were inseparable. I felt bad for his parents because I was constantly over there. But that didn't work out. Marco didn't feel the same way for me, and he never will. I'm not going to lie, I still kind of resent the fact that he'd rather be with Dylan than with me. It's like having a knife being stabbed into my gut every time I see them together. But Marco and I are soulmates and we are supposed to be together. So you can't really blame me. It still hurts and I'm still not completely over it, but I've started to pick the pieces back up together. With the help of Sean, that is. On the outside, I bet my life looks perfect. Let's hope it stays that way.