trigger warning: involves self-harm and mentions of sexual assault

So, there may be some parts of the story where it is in third-person point of view, but I decided to change it and I don't think I got it all. So just ignore those mistakes.

And please, if you can be triggered by self-harm or even brief mentions of sexual assault, please do not read. This story contains such things.

disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN GMW OR IT'S CHARACTERS.


You showed me your scars

Expecting me to run off

But little did you know

That I was going to show you mine too

We were closer than we thought.

s.b

Nobody knows the real me. Nobody knows how many times I have cried in my room when nobody was watching. Nobody knows how many times I lost hope, how many times I've been let down. Nobody knows how many times I've felt like I was about to snap, but for the sake of others, i don't. Nobody knows the thoughts that go through my head when I'm sad, how truly terrible they are. Nobody knows how many times I have taken that blade against my arm, or thigh. Nobody. Knows. Me.

And they don't. But that doesn't mean they don't know what it's like.

When he found out, it was our junior year. Riley and him had already tried given a relationship a shot, back in 7th grade for like… 3 months. But decided it was best if they remained friends - for them and for our group.

It was a rainy Thanksgiving which, of course, I spending alone. I normally spend it with the Matthews, but they went to Philadelphia and while they insisted I came because I am family, I told them no. I lied and said my mom would be home when, of course, she was acyually going to be working on that very day and would be coming home drunk at around midnight because that's what she does.

Everyday, after I get home at 5 from the Matthews, i make my own dinner and would then spend the rest of my time waiting for my mom to get home and try and distract myself from my own thoughts.

At midnight, my mom would stumble into our apartment drunk off her ass so I carry her to her room so she doesn't pass out on the floor. And on the weekends, when I get back from Riley's to see empty bottles of beer laying around because my mom didn't get the check that she wanted so she drank her problems away - I will proceed to pick them up.

My mom enters at midnight, on the dot. Ignoring my mom's slurred mumbling, I hook an arm around my mother's waist and walk her to her room - already having laid out the ibuprofen and water for the morning after earlier.

After making sure my mother is in bed, I lock the doors and windows - not like there's really much to steal anyways. By the time I get my mom down and lock the doors, it's 1:30. Going into my room, I flop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling as tears slowly begin to form in my eyes. It isn't long before sobs begin to rack my body as my thoughts begin to fill my head. It's 3:24 before I know it. And, despite my best efforts, I reach towards the drawer by my bed and takes out my blade.

Rolling up my sleeve, I place the sharp piece of metal against my arm. Hesitating, I glide it against my wrist. Once, twice, three times, four. Eventually, I just stop counting.

I watch, calmly, as the blood begins to bead up and drip off of my arm, landing on her my white sheets. I reach for my crimson towel when I hear a knock at my window. Shit.

"Maya," It's Lucas. Fuck. "Are you up?"

I freeze, not really knowing what to do. My arm was bleeding profusely, and I know that no matter what happens now he was going to find out. My blood was everywhere - all over my sheets, my hands, my towel. There was no hiding this. Not a chance in hell. He is going to find out, and then tell Riley, and the Matthews and my life will never be the same. They will never look at me the same. And it's not like if he does come in, I can just hope that there isn't enough light to see my red eyes, and the mess I had made only moments ago. I can see it in the dimly lit room. And it's not helping that my arm won't stop bleeding.

"Maya?"

With my voice betraying me, I replied, "L-Lucas?"

"Can I come in? I know it's late but I just… I needed to see you."

I don't answer immediately, trying to come up with some idea to get me out of this mess but I failed to do so. I could just not let him in, but he needs to see me, and I have to be there for him. Everything is about to laid out on the table. Maybe he'll just run. Stop talking to me in general. Because who wants to be friends with the girl with scars all over her body? No one. I sighed, "You're not gonna like what you see."

"Maya, you're… you're you. I always like what I see when it comes to you."

...No, he's Riley's. They're going to be the next Cory and Topanga, they're perfect for each other. He'll make her happy. She deserves happiness. More so than me, because she is a good person. Just… ignore it, not like he meant it anyway, "Yeah, right. But I promise you won't like this."

"Well let me be the judge of that. Now can you let me in?"

Pulling down my long sleeves, I and stood up. My legs were weak, and I could barely stand but I managed to make it over to the window to unlock it.

"Have you been crying?" Was the first thing he says. Is it really that obvious? Am I that much of a mess right now?

Stepping away from the window, I crawled onto my bed and pulled my knees to my chest. I might as well start telling the truth from the beginning, "...a little. But forget about me, what's wrong?"

He climbed in and my heart began pounding, and I started to feel the blood soak through my sleeve. He is going to find out. Please, please don't find out. "Maya, tell me what's wrong? Why were you crying?"

He sounds so concerned, I have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying in front of him. "Why are you here? What happened that you needed to take a midnight stroll to one of New York's worst parts of town?"

"I had a nightmare. You were in it. I tried calling, you weren't answering and I freaked out. Now, why are - or were - you crying?"

"Usual stuff, no big deal. Don't worry about me, what's wrong? Why did you need to see me?"

I heard him sigh and the creaks in the floor was a great indicator he was making his way over to my bed, "Maya, what do you mean usual stuff? Are you always up crying at 3:48 in the morning?"

And that's when he sits down. He sits back up immediately, feeling something wet. "What the hell was that? Maya, I just sat down in something, can I turn on the light?"

I don't answer. I don't know how. And because I don't answer, he goes and turns on the light. He can now clearly see my blood soaked sheets, he can now clearly see my hands which are covered in blood. He can see. And now he knows.

He doesn't say anything. Now for a while. I have to fight back the tears when I begin to think he's left but that's when he speaks up, "Maya… let me see your arm."

I don't move. I don't budge. And he sits down again, crawling onto my bed and I can feel his shoulder against my right one. "Maya," He says. And he's so… calm about this. He isn't mad, he isn't angry. Just… cool, and collected. And it's scary.

He sighs and I feel him put his hand gently on my right forearm, peeling it away from my leg. He rolls up the sleeve. He doesn't see any fresh cuts, but he does see scars. And I can feel his calloused thumb going over them. "Can I see the other arm?"

I don't answer again, so he does what he did last time, and gently takes my arm. He can see how the blood soaked through, and he still proceeds to slowly roll up my sleeve; trying his best not to hurt me.

I finally look at him, and for once, he isn't an open book to be. I can't tell what he's thinking. And what he does next surprises me.

He crawls off the bed, takes my arm and tries to get me off the bed but I don't budge. So he picks me up, and carries me to the bathroom where he stands me on my feet and tells me to sit on the toilet. And for once, I listen.

He closes and locks the bathroom door before opening my cabinet and pulling out the first aid kit. He takes a cloth and wets it, before sitting on the edge of the tub and takes my left arm. He starts to carefully wipe up my arm, never taking his eyes green eyes away. Not till he sets the rag down and gets out the gauze tape, he takes it and begins to wrap it around my arm, he then takes the clip and clips in on so it will stay on. His expression never changes, and it's still unreadable.

He puts the first aid kit away, before sitting back down on the tub and looks at me. That's when I finally look away. So he puts his finger under my chin and lifts my head up so I have to look him in the eye. And when I do, I lose it. And he just holds me. He wraps his arms around me, and holds me. I don't know how long we're there like that.

We me made it to the floor sometime during my breakdown, and I begin to think, as I sit in his lap, cuddled up against his chest, why hasn't he left yet.

"I know how it feels. I know exactly how it feels to cry in the shower so no one can hear you, and waiting for everyone to fall apart, for ever everything to hurt so bad you just want to end it all. Mr. Perfect knows exactly how it feels. So I'm not gonna run scared, and I'm not gonna tell anyone. I'm going to help you through it. So can you tell me… what, has you hurting so much, that led you to hurt yourself?"

I wasn't expecting that, oh no… not at all. But there was a question that was asked, and he's gonna demand an answer. "What doesn't? I'm so… broken that I can feel lit. I mean, physically feel it. This is so much more than being sad now. This is affecting my whole body and it hurts. Hurts worse than any emotional pain then anyone can bestow upon me. And the only way to… make it lessen is if cut… but it doesn't even lessen it ya know? It just distracts me, it's like if you scraped your knee and your mom tells you to bite your finger. You distract one pain with another, one that doesn't hurt as much."

"To everyone's emotional hurting, there's something that happened. Did I ever tell you why I moved to New York?" I reply by silently shaking my head. "Well, my dad, he is… he's not the best. He cheated on my mom, and has a temper. He never physically hurt us, but he has said some things that have hurt us on an emotional level - that we ruined his life, he called my mom a slut, and told me I can never do anything right. My mom finally got sick of it and moved."

I wasn't expecting that either - I knew he didn't live with his dad, but I just thought his parents fell out of love. I didn't think something like this… and he shared it with me. The least I can do is tell him the truth about my father. "... My father didn't leave before I was born. He left when I was 6 -2 years before I met Riley. I just told her he left before I was born because I don't like the memories that come with him living with us. He did things… bad things…" My head begins to fill with memories of him touching me; telling him to stop, as I laid on the bed tied to the head boards so I couldn't fight him off. "He raped me. And touched me. And beat my mom senseless. And wanna know what the worst part is? I don't hate him. Even though I know I should. He didn't love me or my mom. He has taken everything away from me and I can't fucking hate him… and instead I hate myself. For many reason, because of what I see when I look in the mirror, for not being able to make my friends as happy as they should be, but also because I can't let go. No matter how hard I fucking try, i can't and it hurts. It hurts. So fucking much. So I cut because not even drawing can take the pain away… And for a little while, I start to feel good. I don't love myself, but I don't hate myself either. I'll talk more, laugh more, sleep and eat normally. But then something happens; like a switch turns off somewhere and all I am left with is the darkness of my mind. But each time it seems like I sink deeper and deeper and I'm scared… terrified that one day I won't make it back up. I feel like I'm gasping for air, screaming for help but everyone just looks at me with confused faces. Wondering what I am struggling over when they're all doing just fine and it makes me feel like I'm crazy. What the hell is wrong with me?"

He doesn't say anything - just sits there, his arms never tightening or loosening. And then he speaks, re leasing me from his hold, taking my hand in his and looking me dead in the eyes, "I am going to tell you something and I want you to listen. Because I mean it. next time you want to cut, whether that's now, or later, you are going to give me a call. I don't care what time it is, you are going to. And I will come. And instead of hurting your beautiful body, I will draw dead straight lines of kisses along your skin and will shower you in so many that by the time I am done you will forget the pain. Instead of hurting your beautiful body, you will call me and I will come over with all my felt tip pens and draw great big red admiral butterflies onto your wrist and tell you if you hurt yourself you'll kill your butterfly too. Instead of hurting your beautiful body, you will call me and I will come over and draw my name in great big capital letters on each of your arms and say if you cut yourself, you will be cutting me hear out too. Instead of hurting your beautiful body, you will call me and I will come over and draw you in so close in such a tight embrace that your dreadful mind won't be able to think about anything else than the feel of my arms around you. Everyday, from this moment on, I am going to check your arms. And if you have relapsed already, then I am going to walk you home that day, and we are going to go up into your room and your are going to take the blade, hold my arm and cut me as many times as you would yourself. And I will not leave until you do. And if you don't I will. Because harming that body of yours isn't going to solve anything, beautiful."

And he's serious. I know he is. And the only thing I can use to respond to that is, "I could never hurt you like that." And I understand everything. "Why?"

"Because, Maya. No matter how you useless you feel, you're my reason to smile-"

"No. No. Stop it. You-you are supposed to be Riley's. You make her happy. You're the person she is in love with. And her happiness always comes before mine. Always."

"But you see, she is happy. With Farkel. And has been for the past 7 months. Our relationship lasted 3 weeks and ended on mutual agreement. In 7th ever since 7th grade, all I have wanted is your lips on mine. It's been so easy for me to love you that it frightens me. I've never been good at anything. But I've never wanted anything so much as I want to hold you every waking minute. And every night while I sleep, the question has ceased to be, 'How do I love you' and is now, 'Why would I ever stop?' Maya Hart, you listen and you listen good. It's time to stop putting others before yourself. You keep doing that and you'll never be happy. Riley is happy. Farkel is happy. And I'm at my happiest when I'm with you. It's not selfish, it's necessary. I don't care if you don't reciprocate my feelings, that's fine. But I love you. You are the reason I smile. I look forward to seeing you everyday and playing our little game -"

I kiss him. I take my hand, place it behind his neck, and kiss him. And I have never quite felt anything like it before. For a moment, my brain shuts down and I forgot about everything except my lips against his and the way his hands felt on small of my back. The heat between our lips made a moan escape from my lips. I gently caressed his neck, not wanting to pull away but knew I had to before things got carried too far. So I did. "I like you, a lot; have liked you since we first met. And the only thing that has stopped me from going after you is Riley. But you guys split up nearly 5 years ago, and she's been with Farkel for almost a year now. So… let's give, this a shot. I make you happy. And you make me happy. Just… don't make me regret it."

He gave me a chaste peck on my lips, "Never."

"Why did you come here in the first place?"

He looked down, "I uh… I had a nightmare. I tried calling your cell, but you weren't picking up and I started freaking out."

"What was it about?"

"... you died. Ironically, it was from cutting yourself. You had uh, cut too deep and I was the one that found you." I wanted to run. Crawl into the deepest hole I could find, and hide. But I couldn't. Not, not now. "Please, don't make that nightmare become a reality. Please."

"I won't. But we should uh, get back to my room. We can't spend all night in the bathroom."

He nodded, "Well, as much as I love you here, can you get up? I can't go anywhere with you in my lap."

I jumped up, "Oh right. Sorry."

He stood up, and took my hand in his. I shut off the light and we went back to my room. We clean up my room, and just relax on my bed. We don't do anything, no. Just cuddle, I'm on his chest, his arms are wrapped around me and for once… I feel like everything is gonna be okay. There is a long road of recovery for me ahead but with him by my side… I think I'll actually make it to graduation.