A/N: Okay, so people asked for it, so here is a little bit more. I know it is short, but I am trying to figure out where to take it…I have tons of ideas. I just need to do some sifting. Reviews are always appreciated.
Don't own camp rock.
Shane let out a low groan of pain as he rolled over on his arm. 6:03 AM. He focused his attention on the sharp stinging he was feeling in his left arm, stomach sinking as he realized the destruction he had wreaked earlier that night. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he did recall what number he was on before everything went black. He sat up slowly, realizing he had left blood all over the sheets of his bed too. He wanted to be sick. Cursing under his breath, he slid out of the bed and wandered into the bathroom, holding his arm in front of him, trying not focus on the 8 deep gashes of red spread across his forearm, some of them still dripping with fresh blood.
He grimaced with the pain as he rinsed each cut out and wrapped some thin gauze around his whole arm that he had found in the first aid kit under the sink. He pressed hard, cringing as the blood continued to seep through. He liked the pain; he welcomed it like an old friend who had left him a long time ago. And that made him angry. He knew he wasn't supposed to enjoy this. He closed his eyes, trying not to cry. It had been months since he had gone out of control like that, years of Nate and Jason giving their everything to help him overcome this problem. It tore at him to know that he had just thrown all of their hard work down the drain, and he was back to where he started, because of one night…because of one girl.
"How the hell am I going to hide this?" he asked himself, looking down at the long strips of gauze covering his arm. He walked back into the room, searching his drawers for something sufficient, and pulling on a blue sweatshirt over his head, wincing with satisfaction as pain shot through his arm. It wasn't that cold outside, but he would have to deal. The last thing he needed right now was for people to see this. It would send Jas and Nate back here in a heartbeat and he didn't want to see their faces when they saw for themselves what he had done.
He shivered to think about how Jas would take it. Hard, no doubt. Jason took it very much on himself to be their big brother figure and he never left Joe's side during his dark months. Neither had Nate. He felt so weak and stupid. He was a disappointment. How could he have let himself get so out of control?
Shane grabbed the sheets with his blood and washed them in the sink, making sure to remove every trace of red. He hung them in the shower to dry and grabbed his guitar from the corner of his room. He needed to go outside, get some fresh air, out of this cabin that was now filled with haunted memories of the night before.
Sitting outside on the porch with the morning sun and fresh breeze, he couldn't help but replay the voice inside of his head. It made him feel instantly better and instantly angrier at the same time, which he didn't know was possible. He just wanted to find the girl, maybe find some answers, and maybe even heal.
Heal. No one ever really heals. Cuts heal, but they always leave behind scars. Soon the pain fades, but the reminder never goes away, the scars always stay. Once there is a scar, there is no escaping them. Ever.
He strummed absent-mindedly at his guitar, playing around with random chord progressions, thinking about scars. Mitchie, no doubt, would not only be leaving scars on his arm, but on his heart too. He would never be able to escape the memories from last night; they were permanently etched into his skin for the rest of his life.
Where do I go from here?
There were so many emotions filling Shane's head that he couldn't sit still on one for long enough. He was so lost, and that made him angry because yesterday he thought he knew who he was and where he was going. But it was all built on lies.
He didn't know what to do. He just needed to find the voice. That was the only thing that seemed to make sense and it was becoming Shane's obsession. The only thing that still seemed right in his life.
The only other thing Shane did know was that he hated his scars.
What did you think?
