Chapter 3: Lies We Tell Ourselves

James went out into the hallway to get Kendall. Just from the sound of his voice, Kendall knew something was wrong. He stood and walked with James back to the bedroom.

"Be aware," the brunette said, looking down at the floor, "that this may not be the greatest thing you'll see."

Kendall nodded and opened the door. Kyla had gotten under her covers, just sat up, staring at the comforter. His eyes surveyed her up and down before landing on the bandages. His eyes widened as he walked forward, sitting on the edge of the bed. He took a bandaged arm in his hand and looked at the blood that continued to seep through.

"Ky.. Wh... What did you... Why did you..." Kendall couldn't fill the empty spaces. He took a deep breath, holding it for longer then he should've. "Will you talk about what y- happened with us?"

The only answer was silence. Time passed. James had gotten a deck of cards and convinced Kendall to play Speed with him. Both boys sat on the floor with Kyla still sat on the bed, never moving her eyes. Kendall got frustrated and swiped the cards to the side. James looked up at him with a shocked face. Kendall got up and pounced onto the bed, taking Kyla's shoulders in each of his hands.

"Kyla! Why the hell would you do something like this? We've always been here to listen to you!" Kendall's voice grew louder and louder. The girl's eyes never met his face. He felt tears sting at the corner of his eyes, but refused to let them fall. He gave her shoulders a final shake before letting go. "Why didn't you ever come to us for help? What convinced you to hurt yourself?"

"What convinced me?" the now shaking voice asked. Her hair had fallen into her face, but by her voice, she was crying. "A lot convinced me."

"When did you start?" asked James from the floor.

"Let's see. My mother died. Two weeks after, my dad was constantly hitting on my aunt. She continuously turned him down and eventually, he gave up. After that, he became depressed. He'd stay in his room and wouldn't come out until school was over. Even then, he mainly stayed in that dumb bedroom." Kyla sighed, her voice slowly growing steadier. "Then, he discovered his personal relief: alcohol. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get rid of it all. I couldn't bring myself to talk to you guys about it: it made me feel like I was a burden.

"Dad was never violent. But, when he found tequila and whiskey, he grew violent. Anything wrong I did, leave a speck of dust, I'd get smacked. One day, I was doing the dishes and I accidentally cut my finger on a knife. It was the greatest relief I ever felt. I read about kids just like me who cut themselves on purpose. I discovered it was quite a thrill. I could tolerate anything my dad did as long as I had my blade."

"That's sickening," Kendall admitted, staring down at his hands. James nodded in agreement, but Kyla only scoffed.

"It may be sick, but it progressively got worse: my dad did more then the blade. He told me I was worthless, that I didn't pay attention to mom when she got sick. The put downs PLUS the abuse got too much, so I continued to go back to my dear sweet razor. Never once thought anything else of it, really. It was simple: instead of venting and crying, I could solve it like that! Then that day..." both boys instantly knew what she was talking about, "...I found out you guys were leaving... I couldn't stop. Only after Emily called did I realize I got one last chance to see you guys.

"Eventually, after you left, nothing got better, only worse. I got sick of it and went to court, taking my dad. I decided I wanted to get emancipated and live on my own. None of my relatives wanted to take me. So, I got out and moved out here with Emily. There. Are you happy? Now you know everything." She ended her story with a blank expression. Tears had fallen, but her voice remained stoic.

"We...We were just a ph-"

"No you weren't. Not after you got signed."

"Why didn't you stop?" Kendall asked, staring at Kyla with a saddened expression. Her face darkened and she grinned.

"I kept telling...lying...to myself that if I kept doing it, eventually you guys would come back, maybe my dad would stop drinking. I lied to myself, telling myself that everything was just fine and that soon, there would be no more hurt left."