A/N: I originally wrote this for a contest entry, that didn't work out, so my original disclaimer doesn't fit here anymore.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana or related characters.
Secrets
Chapter One: Temptation
...
I am alone, it is dark, the covers shift around my feet, and I am jittery.
My stomach knows of what I want, yet it knows I shouldn't, but the dark fuels my fire. It keeps me aware as I stare out into the lack of light, my eyes wide.
No one is around, no one should be. I'm alone—once again I state that to myself. I'm filled with the desire to do something reckless, something crazy. Though I know it will make me feel better, it always does.
I rummage through the cabinet, and pull out the familiar blade, it gleams in the soft moonlight. The reflection runs across my eyes, I smirk, as I know it won't be gleaming for too long.
Slice
A drop of red burgundy falls to the plush carpet below. A flash of pain greets me with a smile, I'm obliged to keep its company.
Slice
A grin appears on my face—victory it seems has come my way, at last.
Slice
Okay, that's enough for today. Another day shall my arm suffer once again.
…
The snow crunches beneath my feet as I walk. My hands are in my pockets, my neck is slumped to the side, I walk with care. Each step, placed with the guide of my eyes.
I grow closer and closer to my dreaded destination—school. I do okay, I guess. Missing a few days wouldn't kill me, but who really likes school? Who really likes getting up at six in the morning to go learn all day?
I'm sure those very peppy girls over there do. They're casually doing their makeup and flirting with any member of the opposite sex they see. What a waste of life.
I twist the combination on my lock and slowly open the metal door, the rusty bolts screaming. I throw in my backpack and books. It's going to be a long day.
...
Ah, there's Mr. Frost. He leans his head up, I guess he thinks it shows authority; but all it shows is the flurry of nose hairs inside his nostrils. I wonder if he knows about his little nose problem—well I wouldn't call it little, I'd call it a sticky situation. Hah, my jokes are terrible.
"Class, take your seats, take your seats," he orders, and we conform. "Today, we're going to be learning about the human body," he says with a grin on his face. Here we go...
…
"Lilly! Lilly, wait up!" My friend, Oliver, calls. I twist my head around to be greeted with an out of breath boy, and a box of donuts. I raise my eyebrow. "Hey, you want one?" He smiles.
"Uh, no, thanks." He obviously doesn't know what sugar does to me. He frowns.
"Are you sure? They're really good." He rubs his stomach in a circular motion. Odd.
"Yeah, I'm sure.
"Alright, well I'm having this party later, and I was wondering if you'd like to come?" Oh, a party. I'm not usually invited to those...
"I-I don't know..."
"Oh come on." He punches my arm. "It'll be fun."
"Maybe for you, but I'm not a fan of alcohol." Oliver frowns again.
"I never said there was going to be alcohol."
"It was implied." I shrug and glance around the hall, it's empty. "Look, I've gotta go. Don't expect to see me at your party tonight. Sorry, Oliver." He stands there speechless and I walk away.
…
Today is boring. Learning is boring. I want to go home. Maybe I will, when can I make my exit? Let's see...the English teacher is chillin' with a book, I think I'm clear.
I slowly back out of my chair, careful not to make it scrape on the ground. My table partner, Ashley, grabs my arm.
"What are you doing?" she whisper-yells.
"Leaving." I pry her hand off me. "Bye." I smirk and back out the door. Ah, freedom.
…
The afternoon sun shines on me, slightly warming up my cold, shivering body. I wish I brought my coat with me when I left the class, I'm kind of stupid for not taking it.
I can feel my cuts from last night healing—stinging. I pull up my sweater sleeve and examine the evidence. It's red, and it's gross. I don't even know why I cut, my life isn't so terrible, it's...okay. Cutting is addictive, that's what it is. It adds excitement to my dull, dull life. It allows me to feel something, when there really isn't much to feel at all.
I'm in a rut, it's wearing me down. I need something to fill this void I have. Even the most blissful things I do, don't really do me much. I just live for the sake of living.
It's getting old.
…
Take a deep breath, Lilly. Deep breaths. Take steps. Left foot, right foot. Don't forget to breathe, oh and blink, yeah.
I hate having to do this when I enter my house. Though I have to, I never know what I'm going to find when I enter. It varies from dead bodies, to drunken parents. I was kidding about the dead bodies part...
"Lilly! My buddy!" My brother, Jake, yells.
"Uh, hey." I give him a small hug. I look around, no beer bottles on the stained carpet...
"You're home awfully early, aren't you?" He scratches his head.
"Um, no," I lie. "There was..." I scramble. "Our teacher got sick, and they didn't have anyone to replace them, so they sent us home." Nice job.
"Oh," he states and takes a swig from his bottle. Ah, there's the alcohol.
"Where's Mom and Dad?"
"I dunno." He shrugs. "Probably out somewhere, doing something. You know how they are."
"I know exactly how they are..." I mumble and walk away.
…
Okay, I guess my life is a little worse than okay. My family has its problems, sure; but whose family doesn't? Well, Oliver's family doesn't, I'm jealous. He's like the superstar kid: he gets good grades, he's loved by his parents, and just all around obedient. I wish my family was like that, though it seems that they never will be. Ever since I was little, I've been avoiding all of it, but my brother wasn't so lucky.
At first, my parents tried to stop him, telling him it wasn't good. But he didn't listen, and then they gave up. He was sixteen then, I was ten, and that was six years ago. Six grueling years ago. Six years I've spent preparing myself so that I never end up like the rest of my family. It's been hard, but I'm doing okay.
That's the reason I'm not going to that party tonight, I don't want to be tempted. My family has a long list of alcoholic's, and I don't want to end up on that list. At all.
All things aside that, I am content, I am happy...I think?
…
Throw
Squish
Throw
Squish
Catch
I love throwing this rubber ball against the wall. It calms me, and helps me think—in some strange way. It distracts me too, and I need that. Especially for tonight. The temptation to go to that party is growing. Why do I even want to go? I know there's going to be alcohol, and that's a no-no.
I throw the ball absentmindedly against the wall, and it hits me in the face. Ow. I pick it up and examine it. Why do I depend on this little toy from when I was little? Why does it have so much significance? I don't even know...whatever, I'm getting rid of this thing.
I toss it in the trash, never to be seen again.
…
My feet scuttle along the tiles, I need to pace. I need to get my mind off of this party. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Yet no matter how many times I repeat that, it doesn't work. I'm drawn to the action, I'm drawn to the danger.
I can't stand this temptation. I need to get out of this house, anyway.
I'm going.
…
"Lilly! You made it, ah, sweet!" Oliver pats my back.
I force out a laugh. "Well, you know me. Can't resist a party." Another laugh—forced.
He nods. "Well come in, grab a drink. We've got soda and stuff. Nothing alcoholic." He winks. I don't know how, but the entire town knows of my situation. Not in-depth, but they know that my family consists of alcoholics. It's bad.
There's a consistent hum of provocative music, and crazy dancing as I weave my way through my fellow teens. I make my way over to the drink table, and all I see is beer. Nothing alcoholic, right, Oliver.
"Hey, you want a drink?" Some guy slurs. I wince at his appearance, he's a mess.
"No, thanks. I-I don't drink."
"Aw, come on." He wraps his hand around me. "It tastes good."
"No," I say harshly and pry his arm off.
"Fine." He bats his arm at me. "Be like that." And then he leaves. I shiver, that was creepy. Though I'm doing well so far, I haven't drunken anything yet.
"You have pretty hair," someone says from behind me. I snap my head around to see another guy.
"Uh..." I don't know what to say.
"Yeah, it's all yellow, and nice." I tilt my head to the side. What's with people these days?
"And your eyes..." he drifts off. "They're blue, right?"
"Yeah, they are." I look around the room for an exit. "But I have to go. Uh, bye," I mumble and run into the first room I see.
I shut the door and sigh. I take a look around, I'm in a small closet. This isn't really taking my mind off of alcohol, it was a terrible idea. It's impossible to even think that I'll escape the temptation. It's not like I can erase my genes. It's not like I can become someone else.
I wish I could.
…
Boom
Boom
Boom
The bass of the music matches my head banging against the wall. This closet seems to get smaller and smaller every minute. I'm suffocating.
Sweat slides down my face, I take raspy breaths, and my heart is pounding. I need to get out of here, but I can't. I know if I do, I'll drink. But the room is spinning, and I don't know how much longer I can control myself, if I can control my fate.
What does it matter? What happens, happens. And there's nothing I can do about it. So what is the point? Why do I keep trying? Why do I persist? Why do I keep pushing myself to the brink?
Why don't I just go with the flow and do whatever? Do I want to end up like my parents and brother? That is the question, and I just don't know what to do.
...
I stare out into the dark, there are no shadows. There is no moon, only pitch black. I find my way over to the familiar blade. There is no reflection, there is no hope. Only the same problems.
Slice.