Thanks to those who read and reviewed last chapter...I wasn't planning to update until tomorrow but SOMEONE made me update... I hope you like this chapter! :)

Chapter 2

I wandered around for a little while, trying to attract as much attention as possible. It must have been pretty obvious that I didn't belong there, but the worst thing that happened was getting a couple dirty looks from an old woman. I sighed, eventually deciding to just go back home. School should have ended by then, so my mum couldn't take me back there until tomorrow. I looked around for a minute, trying to remember which way I had come. That was when I saw her. Selena Perfect Gomez. The girl who made my life miserable every day, the girl who I always assumed had such a perfect life, the girl I had blown up at today. She was walking down the sidewalk, listening to music on her headphones.

That was the first time I ever really looked at her, like actually noticed what she was wearing. She had on a plain red shirt, and some cheap-looking jeans. And a pair of ratty, drawn-on sneakers on her feet. I'd never noticed before, but she looked like she was either too poor to afford new clothes or rich enough that it was trendy to wear old-looking clothes. And judging by the small, run-down apartment building she walked into, I guessed it wasn't the second option. Curious, I followed her. She nodded to the guy on the front desk, a dark-haired pale guy with way too many facial piercings.

I waited until he turned around, and then darted past the desk after her. She was already on the third flight of stairs. I groaned, realising that they were spiralled. She would see me if I wasn't careful. I tried to time it right, so that she wouldn't see me through the gaps. In fact, I was so busy trying to time it that I didn't notice when she stopped walking, and I ran straight into her. She still had her back to me, so she hadn't actually seen my face yet.

"Touch me, I got the cops on speed dial." She said, her voice low and threatening. I laughed cynically, making her whirl around, surprised. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she glared.

"Trust me, I wasn't planning to touch you." I told her. She scowled.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Oh, I get it. Someone told you I live in the Buggies, and you wanted to check it out, maybe even take a few pictures, am I right? Get back at me for everything I've done to you? I wouldn't be surprised." She said, rolling her eyes, but I could see the tears behind the hate. I smiled a little, shaking my head.

"I wouldn't do that. I'm not that kind of person." I sighed, turning to leave. She grabbed my arm. I turned around, surprised. She pulled away quickly, staring at her hand as if they did it on their own.

"Why not? I mean, I deserve it. Look at you. Look at what I've done to you." She sneered. I winced.

"Yeah, but I'd rather only one of us miserable than both of us." I shrugged. She scoffed.

"Trust me; I couldn't get much more miserable than I am right now."

"That's not true. It might feel like it, but things can always get worse. Trust me." I said honestly. I couldn't believe that I was actually having a civil conversation with Selena. I had always imagined myself finally standing up to her and punching her, or doing something, anything, to get back at her. But now, faced with the perfect opportunity, I found myself unable to do anything to hurt her. And she, surprisingly, hadn't said anything hurtful to me at all in this conversation.

"Whatever." She said, turning to leave.

"Come on. I'm being serious. I have no idea why you're miserable, but it can't be that bad, can it?" I asked. Apparently, this was the worst thing I could have said. She whipped back around, stepping towards me, making me step backwards and almost fall down the steps. She glared at me.

"I don't know, you tell me. My stepdad beats up my mom every night. Some mornings she can't even drag herself out of bed. She walks with a limp 'cause he broke her leg a while ago and wouldn't let her go to the hospital to get a cast, and it healed wrong. My cousin, Bobby, lives with us because my aunt and uncle, who were the only members of my family that I actually liked, died in a house fire. He's a year older than me, and he comes into my bedroom and gets in my bed some nights. He says it's 'because he's scared; I think we both know what it's really about. School is the only place I can get away from it all." She started off shouting, but gradually lowered her voice as she explained.

I felt so bad for her in that moment. We were completely opposite. I had a great home life. Well, I did before everything, anyway. She has a crappy home life. I have a crappy school life, and she has a great one. In some ways, she was probably worse off than me. Although I still didn't understand why she was so horrible to me. I didn't understand how she could make someone else feel so miserable, knowing how it feels.

"I'm sorry. You have a shitty life, and if I could I would do anything to help you with that. But I can't." I sighed. She frowned, confused.

"Why would you want to help me? I've been nothing but horrible to you for years." She asked. I smiled a little.

"Because no-one deserves that. No-one." I said simply. It was true.

"Wow. You know, you're doing a really good job right now of making me feel bad about what I've done to you."

"Well we wouldn't want that, would we? My life just wouldn't be the same if you didn't make me miserable every day." I said sarcastically. She laughed at that.

"You know what I think? I think that if it weren't for everything I've done to you, we could be friends." She sighed. I smiled lightly.

"Maybe. Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why do you hate me?" I asked her. She shrugged.

"I don't.

"Then what's the point of all this?" I gasped, exasperated. She stared at me blankly, then shrugged again.

"I don't know." She said.

"Wow. I mean, I get that you have a shitty life and everything, but that kinda makes things worse. You know what it feels like to have no-one, to be miserable. Why would you want to make someone else feel the same way?" I asked her, tears in my eyes. She just shrugged again, but then she opened her mouth, as if to say something. But she didn't speak. Just stared at me, like she wanted to tell me but couldn't.

"Well, if you have nothing to say, I guess we're done here." I sighed, turning to leave. I made it down two flights of stairs before she ran after me. I stopped and waited for her to catch up, expecting her to say something cruel. We had had a moment, sort of, but I felt like that was over now. But I was surprised, since when I turned around to talk to her, I felt her grab my arms and pull me to her into a rough kiss. I was so shocked that I froze, and after a few seconds she pulled away, flushed. We stood there for a second, the only sound her panting. I let out a breath that I hadn't realised I was holding, and she looked down.

"I'm sorry. I'll just go now." She sighed, making no move to leave.

"Erm…you don't have to go. It's fine…strange, but fine." I said. I hated this girl yesterday. I hated her so much. And now…all I wanted was to feel her lips on mine again. She just winced, smiling at me lightly.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" she asked.

"No. I'm guessing this isn't going to change anything, though, right?" I asked. I could see tears in her eyes, but she nodded.

"I'm sorry. I can't…people would murder me. Look, what I couldn't tell you…I've hated you since middle school because I liked you. I was confused, I didn't understand what I was feeling. I understand now; I'm gay. Pure and simple. But if people found out, I would never be able to show my face in school again. Anyway, by the time I was old enough to realise what I was doing to you, it felt like it was too late to stop. And I managed to convince myself that you had it coming. You wore all those baggy clothes to hide the fat; even though I knew you weren't fat. It was just…everyone else hated you. Even though it was my fault they hated you, I felt like I had to hate you too." She babbled. I could tell that she couldn't think of the right way to phrase things, but I understood her.

"I get it. Peer pressure. But sometimes…I'm not going to lie, you were always the worst. You were the one that made me cut, because your words hurt the most. I don't know why, they just did. And every time I considered going that one step further, ending it all, it was mostly because of something you said." I told her bluntly. I wasn't going to lie to spare her feelings; it wasn't like she ever tried to spare mine.

"And I'm so sorry about that. So sorry. I hate myself for being like that. But I can't stop."

"It's okay. It doesn't hurt much anymore. I have ways of…forgetting." I sighed, trying to be vague, but she understood. Her eyes widened.

"No way! I knew you were anorexic, that much was obvious, but you cut too? I've ruined your life." She wailed, distraught. I shook my head.

"You didn't give me the razor. You didn't tell me to cut. That part was all me. And you never told me not to eat either."

"Yeah, but I made you feel like you had to."

"You and all the others. I said you were the main culprit, not the only one. Without everyone else that joined in, and the ones who just sat back and watched, I would have been fine. I was weak. It's my fault." I sighed.

"I still blame myself. I know what it's like to be in that place…I was there once." She admitted, tugging the sleeve of her jumper up to show me a set of red scars. I gasped. I had never noticed. Then again, she always wore long-sleeved shirts. I guess I never really paid enough attention.

"How did you…stop?" I asked her. She laughed dryly.

"I cut a little too deep, got rushed to hospital. The doctors never said anything, but the way they looked at me…they knew. It was so embarrassing. I never want to be embarrassed like that again. So I don't take the risk." She explained. I smiled, glad she had managed to stop.

"I wish I had that kind of strength." I whispered. She smiled.

"You are strong. You're still here, aren't you?" she said. I smiled, nodding, as I realised that she didn't just mean still here on this earth. She meant still there, with her. It took a lot of strength to be there. To face the girl who had made my life a misery all these years. And to realise that she was a really great girl. The kind of girl I could fall in love with…

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