Authors note: this is my first time writing fanfiction so i warn you now that it will probably suck but enjoy!

Alec POV

It was something i had gotten used to, accustomed to. The blade in my hand glistened from the light on the mirror causing a cast of light on the ceiling. I let the blade's sharp end drag across my forearm.

One for not being the kid my parents wanted me to be,

Another for being a disappointment to my family,

And one more for being useless and a waste of space.

I look down and see the beautiful red liquid seeping out of my skin, down my forearm, over my hand, and onto my bathroom floor.

I can faintly hear my mother yelling at me from downstairs, "Come Down Here! Its time to leave for your support group!" She says. I know better than to not come downstairs and go to the support group, because Maryse would just come up here, barge into my room, and drag me to the group; and the last thing I want to deal with is my mother freaking out again because I have blood trailing down my arm and my switchblade is in my hand. So I clean my cuts with water and antiseptic then place a bandage over the cuts. As I'm putting my long-sleeved shirt back on I catch a glimpse of a scar on my neck right over my jugular; the cut I had made over a month ago that had landed me in this fucking support group in the first place was now just a dark scar and a memory.

I head downstairs and see my mother impatiently at the bottom of the staircase. "It's about time you got down here! What took you so long?" she asked me, "Oh, I had my earbuds in and I couldn't hear you at first" lies. "Okay, we need to leave for your support group before you're late." my mother says as she's walking towards the door in her pin-stripe business suit and nude heels.

As she's driving me to Beth Israel Hospital for the support group I keep wondering how this is gonna help me. How are a handful of suicidal and depressed kids suppose to help someone like themselves get over what they are struggling with? I don't know and to tell the truth, most of the kids there probably don't wanna be there just as much as I do. I realize that the car has came to a halt and look up to see the dreaded building. As I'm about to get out of the car my mom tells me to at least try to be friendly to the people at the group.

After I get out of the car and into Beth Israel's I go up to the receptionist desk and ask what room the group is meeting in. After she tells me where the meeting is I head to the mental illness wing and go to the room. I reach for the door handle with an extreme feeling of dread…

Magnus POV

I had just choked down some food that my best friend Camille had made for dinner and the little voice in my head was making me feel incredibly guilty.

You need to get the food out of your stomach;

Go and throw it up;

You shouldn't have eaten that;

You are gonna be fat;

You won't be perfect.

That did it; I got up from my bed and went to my en suite bathroom. I kneeled down next to the toilet. I took a minute to admire the beautiful manicure that was about to get ruined. And then I put my index finger back in my throat as far as it could go and vomited up the dinner that my friend had made me.

Right after I get rid of the food in my stomach I start feeling light-headed and dizzy, I decide that my bathroom floor looked pretty comfy, so I start to lay down but become unconscious before getting my head to the hard tile below me; my head making a faint thud when it hits the bathroom floor. My last thought is hoping that Camille hadn't left anything and come back to get whatever she had forgotten...

*2 hours later*

I'm awoken by a deafening shriek coming from above me. It takes me a minute to figure out where I am because all I know right now is that the room I'm in is not my bedroom. Once my mind catches up with what is going on I realize that I'm on my bathroom floor, my head hurts like a motherfucker, and that Camille is in the doorway of my bathroom emitting the shriek I was abruptly awoken by.

Once she see's that I'm awake she stops screaming and starts asking questions like if I'm okay and what happened. "I think the food that you made wasn't fully cooked or something and I was just so exhausted after I puked that I didn't wanna get up so I just decided to sleep on the floor" I told her even though I didn't even believe the story myself. She seems to be buying my story but then she see's my manicure, or lack of sense I destroyed it earlier. She looks at me and asks me if I made myself throw up on purpose or not. I can't lie to her no matter how much I don't wanna tell her about what happened but in the end I tell her what I actually did and that I had passed out on the floor soon after I got rid of the food in my stomach.

Since I had told her what happened earlier she wanted to know if I had done it before and how many times I had done it and why I did it. Since I felt like I just couldn't keep anything from her any more I told her about everything. I told her about how I had to do this to be good-looking and perfect. I told her that I had been doing it for so long that I couldn't remember when I started doing it and how many times I had done it. After I told her everything she told me that I should get some help for my anorexia and bulimic tendencies. She said that even if I thought that I didn't need help she would make sure I got help, because who else would she take shopping with her?

*The Next Week*

All week Camille had stayed over to make sure I didn't try to get rid of the food that she made for me whether I threw it up or just threw it away when she wasn't looking. I love my beautiful blonde best friend, but I was just kinda wishing she would leave me be already, but she would not leave my side due to fear of me getting rid of my food. Every time I asked her for some time she would always interrogate me asking questions such as why I wanted to be alone and whether or not I was gonna go and get rid of the food in my stomach. Everytime she asked me questions like that I would always lie to her but then I would feel incredibly guilty for lying to Camille; but never once did my feelings of guilt for lying to Cammie overpower the little voice in my head that was telling me I was ugly and needed to lose weight because I was so fat it was disgusting.

Camille is forcing me to go to a support group at Beth Israel's Hospital in about an hour despite the many times that I told her that I was okay and that I didn't need to go to a support group full of depressed teenagers. So now I am currently sitting at the multi-colored vanity in my room applying my makeup while Cammie is laying on my bed reading my copy of the latest issue of Vogue magazine. After I finished applying my makeup I walked over to my walk-in closet and scavenged through my clothes until I found an outfit that would suffice my fashion needs. My ensemble included a lime green tank top that ended just above my navel, pierced by a black iron bar is paired with electric blue super skinny jeans and black Doc Martins. After dressing myself I went back to my vanity and did my hair up in it's customary spikes. It's about time for the support group, but maybe if I don't say anything about it she'll forget and I won't have to go. Not even a moment after that thought crosses my mind Camille asks me if I'm ready because we're leaving now whether I'm done getting ready. I reply back with an as ready as I'll ever be; then we head out of my front door and into my black and white Charger.

After we leave my house we drive to Beth Israel's in remote silence with only the radio playing in the background. When we pull up to the hospital I get out of the car (Cammie is waiting in the car while I'm there) and walk up to the main entrance doors. Before I walk through the doors I take a look back at my car where Camille is waiting and she gives me a big smile and a thumbs up; that gives me the courage to go through the doors and up to the secretary that is stationed right next to the doors. I ask the secretary where the support group is meeting at and she tells me what wing of the hospital it's in and what the room number is. I make my way to the mental illness wing (only getting lost a couple of times) and finally find the room that the group is meeting in but by this time I'm almost twenty minutes late to the meeting. Since I was so late to the meeting I slowly reach for the door handle with a feeling of nervousness...

to be continued...if you enjoyed this chapter please review, follow, and favorite =D