A/N: OH MY GOD.

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I love you guys. Seriously, you're awesome.

So I'm posting this chapter early! Enjoy!

000

"I hate my parents. I hate them!"

Julia stomped around Eli's small room, her fingers tangled in the roots of her hair and her eyes blazing with anger and frustration. Eli lay on his back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling; he was used to his girlfriend's moods by now, and he knew that if he just waited for her to get it out of her system, everything would be better for both of them.

"What did they do this time?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"It's my damned stepmother!" she shouted. "She just started yelling at me out of nowhere, and all my dad did was tell me not to make her mad! And then she kicked me out of the fucking house and told me now to come back until I could control my goddamned temper!"

She flopped down on her side on the bed, her back to Eli. He rolled so he was lying on his side behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. Usually, these began with her showing up on Eli's door, pissed as hell, and then she would scream and shout, and then she would break down and cry. And, damn, he didn't want her to cry again.

"It's okay," Eli comforted her.

"No, it's not," she whispered. "I can't go home, Eli. I can't go back there."

"You can stay here tonight," Eli offered. "My parents aren't home. It'll just be you and me, okay?"

Julia turned to face him; she wasn't crying yet, but she looked so fucking sad that he could almost hear his heart breaking. "You love me, right?" she whispered.

"Of course I do," he replied immediately. He'd told her many times that he loved her, but she'd never said the words back. He knew that she loved him; she just had difficulty saying the words. "You know I love you, Jules."

She shifted closer to him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. For a while, there was nothing but a comfortable, easy silence, and then she whispered, "I love you too."

Eli was lying in the same position, on his back, staring up on the ceiling, but this time, there was no Julia. There was no dark-haired girl lying beside him; there was no warmth of another body pressed against his. He was alone.

Julia was dead.

She was dead, and it was all his fault.

He killed her.

Eli pushed his long sleeve up to his elbow and traced his fingers over the slightly raised scars, spelling out JULIA in ragged scars.

She was always going to be a part of him.

"I… I miss you, Jules," he whispered, the words loud in the otherwise silent room. "I really, really miss you. I love you so much…"

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and he repeated softly, "I love you so much."

With shaking fingers, he reached up to wipe the drop of water away.

Someone knocked loudly on his door; Eli didn't know why they bothered. Even if he told them to stay out, his parents would just come barging inside, their cell phones in hand with thumbs positioned over the 9, ready to call for an ambulance in case they found him in a pool of his own blood again.

When he didn't answer, the door flew open and, just as he'd suspected, his mother's cell phone was clenched in her hand.

She smiled unsteadily when she saw he was awake, okay, and she said in a fake, cheery voice, "Come on, baby boy, get up. You're gonna miss your group therapy."

000

Every time Clare closed her eyes, she saw him.

His cruel smirk. His laughing face. The satisfied look in his eyes as he hit her, slapped her, beat her until she trembled on the ground at his feet, a mess of blood and tears…

And he was so damned smart about it. He made sure that he only hit her in places that would be covered by clothing, and that one time he'd given her a black eye, he'd nearly forced her to cover it up. And then…

No. She couldn't think about that. It was horrible, it was ugly, but it happened, and there was no changing that. There was no going back. She deserved every hit, every punch, every blow he landed on her, but she couldn't think about that now.

She'd tried to end it, once and for all. She'd tried to let herself go, let herself drown. And she'd failed at even that.

"Clare?"

Dr. Alger's soft voice snapped her back to reality, and her eyes opened. Everyone was staring at her, eyebrows raised. Well, everyone but Eli. This time, Clare was sitting between Fiona and Adam, her hands folded on her lap. Eli's eyes were fixed to a spot on the wall about two feet above and to the left of her head, seeming oblivious to everything else around him. He didn't seem to be seeing the wall itself; his eyes were narrowed in anger, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, and it was like he was glaring at some old enemy, like some nemesis of his was standing behind Clare.

"I'm sorry, what?" Her voice was a little rough from disuse; she had spoken more in this therapy group than she had in the last three months, and this was only her second time there.

You dumb bitch. You stupid little shit.

Clare fought to keep his voice out of her mind, her fingernails digging into her leg through the fabric of her jeans. She couldn't think about him, about what had happened. Not here, not now.

Not ever.

She'd never be able to forget. She would need brain surgery to remove it from her mind; she would need surgeons to slice in from her memory. Amnesia. God, that would be amazing. To forget everything, to have a clean, blank slate. A new, fresh start, a second chance at the life she'd so horribly fucked up.

It was her fault. He was right; she deserved it.

She closed her eyes again and willed herself to be somewhere else, another time, another place, before. When she was safe, secure, sane. When she was happy.

The entire world began to blur, began to fade, as she hid in her own mind from her own mind.

Clare? Who's Clare?

I'm not Clare. I can't be. I won't let myself be.

I can't let myself be.

I can't.

000

Julia was a girl of extremes.

When she was angry, all hell broke loose. She was like a hurricane, destroying everything in her path, so damned pissed off that it was best to just stay the hell out of her way.

When she was happy, she was radiant, seeming to almost glow. She really only let her guard down when she was around Eli, and he loved that he was the only one to see that soft, gentle side of such a tough girl.

And when she was sad, she drowned the world in her tears, oceans of salty drops flowing down her cheeks. She would usually be furious with herself for showing such a weak emotion, but sometimes when she was alone with Eli, she would let herself cry, let him comfort her.

It wasn't like they'd never fought before.

It wasn't like that was their worst fight, either. Oh, there had been times when Eli's fists had clenched in anger and he'd wanted to just smack the hell out of his girlfriend, and there had been times when Julia actually had punched him- she wasn't the kind of girl who slapped people. There had been times when they shouted so loudly, the neighbors came over at two in the morning to tell them to shut the hell up. They always forgave each other, though; they always apologized. That wasn't their worst fight.

But it was their last.

Eli stared out of the window, not seeing anything. The cars speeding by outside blurred into a smear of washed-out colors, the people on the sidewalk fading into transparent ghosts. Both of his hands were wrapped around his coffee cup; the bitter, black liquid inside had long since gone cold, but he sipped it anyways, barely tasting it as it slid down his throat.

And then the door to the Dot opened, and the person who walked inside sat down across from him.

Eli glanced up, surprised.

Clare.

Clare, the girl from his group therapy. The girl with the pretty light blue eyes, with the broken expression, with the bruised wrists, with the thin tan line around her finger, like she had recently been wearing a ring.

"Hi," she mumbled.

Eli couldn't stop staring at her. He knew that he must look like some kind of creepy freak, his eyes almost falling out of his head, but he couldn't believe that this girl had just walked in an sat down with him. And not in the who-do-you-think-you-are way; the what-does-she-want-from-me way.

Just because he was paranoid didn't mean that people weren't out to get him.

"Hi," he replied finally.

"I'm… Clare?" Her voice was soft, uncertain. "From… from Dr. Alger's-"

"I know," he interrupted, and then wished that he hadn't. For the past couple months, he hadn't had much contact with other people, and even before Julia died, he hadn't been a very social person.

"You're Eli," she stated.

Yeah, I know. I welcomed you to hell. Nice of me, wasn't it?

"Yep," he replied simply.

They sat in silence for a few moments, just sitting there, staring at each other with empty, hollow eyes. Finally, Eli decided that it couldn't hurt to at least attempt to make small talk.

"So what happened to you?" he asked.

Clare flinched, like he had physically struck her, and he instantly regretted his question. It was none of his damned business; if she had been the one to ask, he wouldn't have bothered to reply.

The fingers of her right hand brushed over the tan line on her left, like twisting whatever ring had once been there had once been a nervous habit of hers. When her fingertips touched bare skin, she snatched her hand away, whisking both of them under the table.

"I tried to kill myself."

Well, no shit.

"I handcuffed my wrists together and jumped off a cliff into the ocean," she added.

Eli certainly wasn't expecting that.

What was he supposed to say? Oh, I'm sorry. What was he supposed to be sorry for? That she hadn't died? He was so absorbed with self-pity that only his self-hatred rivaled it, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for this girl. Maybe, once upon a time, she had been bright, happy, whole. Maybe she had once been a nice girl with good friends and crush on some high school heartthrob, and then something had happened, and her whole life had just gone down the drain.

And maybe he was reading way too much into it. Maybe he was thinking way too much about Clare.

"What about you?" she asked, but he could tell that she didn't expect an answer.

He simply smirked and looked away from those damned eyes of hers.

There was something about her that pulled him in, something about her that he wanted to rescue. But he couldn't. He fucked up every damned thing he touched.

And Clare was screwed up enough as it was.

Clare turned to grab her purse, fishing around in it for her wallet, her money, her credit card, her whatever. Eli tapped his Sharpie-colored fingernails loudly against the table, catching her attention.

"I got it," he told her.

She smiled.

God damn it, she smiled.

Her pale pink lips pulled back shyly, exposing the smallest glimpse of white teeth. She was fucking smiling at him, and it was real, it was honest, and God, she was smiling.

Maybe, for the first time in God only knew how long, he had done something right. Maybe he hadn't fucked up this time.

000

A/N: So, you get some insight on both Clare and Eli's past and the first little hints of Eclare.

(By the way, Clare sat down beside Eli because she recognized him, she didn't want to sit alone, and she thought that he might want some company. Just to clear things up.)

Sorry if this is starting off kind of slow, but I really hate rushing things. Oh, and Eli isn't the perfect Prince Charming in this story. Actually, he's pretty screwed up, and so is Clare. So don't be surprised if Eli's not the nicest, most understanding person in the history of fanfiction, or if Clare… well, you'll have to wait and see.

And I know that Eli's POV is mostly Julia-centric, but that's because she's always on his mind. He tried to kill himself because she died, after all.

Eli and Clare are the main characters, so the story will be mostly about their backgrounds, but Drew, Adam, Bianca, and Fiona will still be major characters, one way or another, so you will find out their backgrounds, too. For example, Fiona's will (sort of) be in the next chapter.

Review please!

I do not own Degrassi or any of the characters.