I do not own glee. Credit for the characters to their respective creators.
I was in a bathroom bright smack in the middle of nowhere in the scheme of things that was pretty much only used for drugs after school, which left it completely empty at the moment and perfect for my intents. Having burst through the door, I fumbled for my wallet; my fingers were shaking, causing me to break the latch in my rush.
"Shit, just add it to the list..." I muttered angrily, pulling out the tiny silver needle I kept in the bottom of the change pocket. Locking the door, just in case, I pulled up my sleeve to expose my bruised and bloodied arm to the elbow.
Leaning over the sink to catch the blood, I prodded at a particularly long gash, hissing slightly as it broke the freshly formed skin. I stood there, letting the blood drip down, face screwed up, until I felt the release. My body unwound, everything seemed to be flowing out through the one small stream of blood.
"Whoa there black swan." Said Santana from the doorway.
I froze, my eyes widening. I whipped my arm down to my side.
"S – Santana how did you get through the door? I – it was locked." The tall girl held up a blue plastic charge card between two fingers.
"There isn't a door in this school I can't get through. I was just coming in here for a while, was going to skip first block, I thought the janitors finally wizened up and locked this one down."
"Um… yeah… I'll uh." I looked down at the sink covered in blood, "I'll just be going now." I grabbed a paper towel and started to clean up the blood. "That was, an, um, accident…"
"Ahuhh." She stepped forward and grabbed my unexposed forearm. I gasped as the freshly formed films of skin cracked. She shoved the sleeve of the old t-shirt up roughly. She immediately dropped my arm.
"Did I do that?" She said, looking at the small beads of blood forming on my skin. I nodded, slowly.
"It's okay," I said, I took a deep breath, "I- um… I did that one this morning. It's... okay… I heal fast…"
"The fuck you do..."
She was examining the bruises and cuts that were all the way up and down my arms.
The worst part was that wasn't even all of them.
"Does cutting yourself, like, bruise you or something ..?" I winced at those words, 'cutting yourself'. I didn't like to actually hear it out loud… it made it seem worse than it really was. All I needed was that release… that little piece of relief…
It wasn't even that lately. It was the addiction. I remembered the psychiatrist they sent me too.. Something about endorphins in the brain that kept me wanting to slice my arm open. I just needed to feel the sting of it… I shook my head to get the sudden image of a hypnotically dark, blue room out of my head.
"N-No... If I can't cut, I – I bruise. It's just the pain I need, not the, not the blood, though the blood… it helps. Sometimes."
She looked at me as if I was I bizarre alien.
"Does Sam..?"
"No," I said quickly, "Please, please don't tell him… I'm just waiting for the scars to heal, and I just – I – Santana - "
"You just stabbed yourself with a sewing needle."
"No – no I didn't, I poked a scab, it was for an emergency – "
"So, you keep a sewing needle for emergencies?"
"Y –yeah I do..."
"Shouldn't you, like, be getting help, or something?"
"I – please. I won't ever mention it again if you don't. I'll even stop coming in here."
I could tell that Santana was way out of her comfort zone.
"Please, you don't understand… If you tell and the whole school finds out, I'll get labeled and I'll get looks and nobody will ever treat me the same way – "I let a few tears fall. She sighed and grabbed some paper towels.
"Fine, I won't tell Sam,"
"Oh thank you so - "
"Yet. But, if I find out this is getting worse, he will be the first person I tell. Okay?" I nodded. She sighed.
"You know it's a good thing I keep extra clothes in my car in case of a slushy facial," She said, gesturing to my now-bloodstained shirt, "I was always wondering what was up with all the long sleeves." I nodded meekly and followed her out of the bathroom.
Having skipped the rest of 6th period, I was a little early to Glee Club. Santana had left me at the foyer, saying she had to go get Brittany before she got lost again. I nodded and left on my own.
I sat at the piano, pressing nonsensical notes here and there as my hands glided up and down the keyboard lightly.
"Hey," Said Sam, arriving behind me.
"Hi," I said, looking up from the piano. He frowned as he sat next to me on the bench. I shook my head.
"That wasn't the shirt you were wearing this morning." He said, "Is something wrong?"
"I – no. Nothing. Santana just said that she – uh, she was sick of me wearing my 'Innocent farm girl' tees." I grinned, "The nerve of me," He raised his eyebrows, but didn't question it.
"Do you know how to play?" He said, turning his attention back to the piano.
I snorted, "No,"
He smiled, "Good, me either," I laughed and continued to press the keys at random.
"Though I do know that this one here," I pointed to a white key in the center of the piano, "Is a C."
"So this one," He said, gently taking my arm and placing it on the next key over, "Must be a D."
"I guess so.." We continued to speculate on random piano keys until Rachel came bursting into the choir room.
"Is there something going on in here I should know about? Kurt's got the choir room practically roped off and – " She caught sight of us, Sam's arm wrapped around me, our hands intertwined as he laughed and pressed random keys that were defiantly not correct.
She stopped short and started to back out slowly. "Oh – I, um, forgot some sheet music. I'll just be getting that." She hurried over to the music stand and grabbed a stack of paper as the bell rang.
I detangled myself slowly from Sam as the other Glee kids filed in lazily from their respective classes, quietly taking a seat in the back corner.
"Alright, we need five thousand dollars to pay for our trip to nationals in New York…"
I stared at the abnormally large lunch bag in front of me.
"How did I not catch this before," I said, "It's glaring at me,"
"Did you aunt pack all this food?" Said Sam, peeking in the top, "You could feed the army with this,"
The other boys peeked in my lunch over Sam's back.
"Damn," Said Puck.
"She thinks I have an eating disorder or something…" I mumbled, pushing it away. "I have a high metabolism. Does someone want to eat this for me?"
The boys, all except for Sam, grabbed at the bag.
"Well… you don't have an eating disorder, do you?" The other boys froze guiltily in the middle of eating my food.
"No, Sam, I do not have an eating disorder," I said, rolling my eyes, and catching sight of a fruit roll up Puck had just taken out of my bag, adding, "As a matter of fact, I'll be taking that – "
"Fair enough," He said, tossing it over to me. I caught it and looked over at Sam with a grin.
"See? I love food. I just don't happen to be very hungry right now. And I mean look at the size of that thing!"
He shook his head and sat next to me.
"Whatever, dude." He said, taking out his own small lunch.
I opened my fruit roll up and sat back in my chair to listen to the usual random sports banter that took place at the guy's end of the table, not yet having the nerve to sit over at the girls (and Kurt) side.
Santana seemed to have taken pity on me after this morning's antics and stood up and walked over towards me.
"Come on," She said, grabbing my backpack and walking over to her seat at the opposite end of the table, "I need to talk to you,"
I gave Sam a look that said I have no fucking clue before shrugging and following after her.
END OF PART II
