Dark story, set when the gang is in 9th grade. I am giving you a major warning, this is a very dark story. I don't own the characters.
Just five years ago, she would enter her closet to practically worship her crush. She would imagine what it would be like to date him.
Looking back, she had no idea what she had been thinking. She had realized that it had creepy and obsessive. She had made a chewing gum bust of him, for goodness sakes!
She had thrown that out the first time She had hit in the middle of her seventh grade year. She had held herself together until she had reached her closet. Then, she had curled up in the small area and broken slightly. It had been one thing for Her to ignore her, but She had never hurt her before. After she had stopped crying, the bust had caught her eyes. Anger had filled her up, and she pulled it into pieces. She hadn't been able to look at him for a week.
She had been able to deal with it until over a month ago. That was when She had started to bring men to her room at night.
She had been used to pain by that point. She had been slapping her around whenever her father had a bad day at work for years. That day, however, he had lost a major sale to a competitor. They had gotten into a fight, and he had spent the night at a hotel. She had to the bar, and had brought a man home with her.
That night had only been the first night. She had brought men tovisit her regularly after that. The pain was a new type of pain. It was deeper and more than just physical. It ate at every part of her being, slowly destroying her.
With each visit, she grew more withdrawn. She hardly talked at school. Phoebe had tried to pull her out of her slump, to figure out what was wrong. Pride and humiliation had held her tongue. How could she tell them what happened at her house?
As the visits continued, her crush completely disappeared. It had started to fade when He had first hit her. After the visits, however, she just stopped caring.
At first, she had started to hate her crush. How could he not notice what was happening? Did he really not care for her? Did she matter so little to him?
She couldn't hate him for long, however. Before long, it seemed like all of her emotions had faded. All she could feel was a deep sense of melancholy.
Her sudden change in behavior scared all of them. She hadn't noticed her friends trying to pull her out of herself. She hadn't noticed as they all tried to get her to talk, including him. Nothing they did worked, however, and they eventually gave up.
Now, two months after He had started to visit her, she sat in the back of her closet. It looked a lot different than it had before it had all started. All of her mementos had been destroyed and thrown away. Her wardrobe had darkened.
She sat with her back against the way, and her knees pulled to her chest. Her eyes were blank, but dry. She had run out of tears months ago. She had run out of will around the same time.
She fingered the object in her fingers.
She could do it. She knew she could do it. It wouldn't be hard. Just a few slits and she would be away from her personal hell.
She looked around, and returned to her original train of thought. Her closet had changed since it had all started. It was no longer a shrine to her crush. It had turned into a safe haven from everything. She would retreat to its cool darkness after the menvisited. She would block it from inside to prevent anyone from finding her.
Now, it would also be her final resting place.