His green eyes flickered at the picture of Julia, his dead ex-girlfriend, exhaling deeply, "Why are you doing this to me?" his voice trembled.

Eli Goldsworthy's hands shook as he grabbed the Degrassi pen out of his right pocket and pulling out a piece of folded notebook paper from the left.

He slowly began to write to Julia, "Dear Julia, Because of you Clare hates me… You did this to me. I hate you. You've ruined my life." And with that he signed his name with a flourish before crumbling the paper up and throwing it as far as he could across the room.

Eli sat down on his bed inside his home. Inhaling consistently, he ran his fingers through his thick, black hair. He just wanted Clare back into his arms. That's all. It was that simple. But she had left, after she PROMISED she wouldn't.

He felt his phone buzzing in his khaki uniform pants, taking a quick glance at the caller ID he saw Clare's name light up his screen.

Quickly answering it, he sighed, "Clare?" he asked, hoping it was her.

"Um, yeah, Eli, is that you?" he heard her smooth voice fill the speakers of his cell phone.

He smiled for the first time in days, "Yeah…" he said, slowly, not wanting the call to end anytime soon, "What's up, Clare?"

"Eli, I'm worried about you…" she said, trailing off, then coming back to the conversation, "I realize you're not over Julia… so I asked your parents if they thought it was a good idea for you to go to… a… treatment center. So you can, you know, cope with the problem you're having in a more healthy way… and they thought it was a great idea," she finished.

Eli could her nervously breathing, hesitantly he responded, "Excuse me? Clare, I'm fine. I don't need help or go to a mental hospital… I'm just fine coping the way I am. I'm over Julia, I promise," he tried to smile through the misery her words were putting him through.

"Eli… I'm sorry," was all that came from the other line.

"Sorry for what, Clare…?" he asked, a little afraid of her response that he knew was coming.

"Your parents said it was definite. They said you're leaving for treatment tonight at 7… That's why I called you… They thought I should be the one to tell you. They've already got you a suitcase, and they'll bring more clothes after you're checked in…" Clare gulped, sounding as if she might cry. "I love you, Eli. That's why I'm doing this."

"Don't cry, Clare…" Eli said, biting his lip, hoping he wouldn't start crying. "I… I'm fine, I swear. I don't need to go to a treatment center… I'm not crazy," he swallowed, "Couldn't you have come to me first with this?"

"No," was all she said. "You would've immediately said no which would have resulted in where we are right now," she admitted, grasping the phone a little tighter.

Eli glanced at the clock – 6:48 P.M. – "Clare…" he began, a little terrified of the future.

"Eli, your parents will be home any minute…" as soon as the words made their way to his line of the telephone, he heard a car door slam.

"They're here…" and that was all it took. He broke down in tears. "Clare, what did I do wrong? Why do I deserve this?"

"Eli, you're just not in your right mind. Julia's death date just passed… you just need to learn how to cope properly."

"Can I tell you something, Clare?" he asked, reaching down to his arm to feel the raised scars he had put there.

"Of course, Eli…" Clare said a little nervously.

"Whenever you brought up that it was almost April 22nd that day on the bench… I started cutting myself…" the green eyed boy confessed through his salty tears.

"…What?" Clare asked, her blue eyes widening, stunned. "Eli… why didn't you tell me?"

"Because this would happen," he said, slowly, hearing his parents enter the house, attempting to be quiet.

"Eli…"

"I've got to go, Clare. Parents are here," Eli spat bitterly, hanging up the phone, pulling over a jacket to hide his scars.

"Hey, guys…" he choked out. They must've seen the pain in his eyes because they broke down.

"Eli, we're so sorry it has to be like this…" his mother sobbed into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, too…" he bit back his tears, watching his own father tear up. "Can we just… go to the center now?"

"Of course," Mrs. Goldsworthy said, bursting into more hysterical tears, "Your suitcase is in the trunk…"

"Thanks," he muttered, sadly, exiting the front door of his home – it'd be a while before he saw it again.