Next chapter. Sorry I didn't update sooner, but I don't fink that would make a difference anyways, no one probably reads these anyways. So, here's the next one. I'm not sure if this whole thing works out with the fiction that 2d was in a coma, but I need a story. Whoops, I think I let a bit slip. I fink I will shaddup now. ;)

It was 7 in the morning. I did not sleep. I had to tidy up the bar and I had to plug in the barrels of beer. I was not very good at it -you would think that working at a bar and fixing barrels over and over again, I would have got the hang of it by now. It was quite embarrassing. While I was fixing the barrel, the plug snapped and beer splashed all over me. My clothes were soaked in alcohol. Thankfully, nothing got onto my shoes.

I had another pair of clothes in my bag. I went into the bathroom to change.

I came back out from the bathroom wearing a Blur over sized black t-shirt, black skinny jeans and an oasis hoodie, which was shorter that my t-shirt.

I looked around the bar with pride. I had tidied up and it would be ready for Charlie when he would start work. I looked at 2D, still sleeping. I had placed a blanket over him, which I found in my bag, after I had cleaned up the glass. I couldn't let him freeze, now could I? I walked over the table that was next to the sofa. I stood there for while, just staring at him. I turned around to face the next table and noticed a stool. I walked over it and picked it up, reaching for underneath the cushion to the wooden leg. I stood it up at the table beside 2D and sat on it. I stared out the window, which had a little gap in it, then moved the stool back, still sitting on it. I rolled my sleeves up of my hoodie up to my elbows and placed my forearms on the table and lay my head in them. I didn't plan on sleeping. I would just go home once 2D had woken up and sleep then. So, I sat there with my head on the table and thought.

After a while of thoughtless thinking, I soon drifted off, into a dream.

2D POV

Kitchen first, then studio, I thought to myself. Murdoc would have to let me eat, and then sing, because if he wanted a singer fit to sing, he would have to let him eat. My stomach was starving. I rolled over a bit, as I did, my blanket didn't could with me. I reached over and pulled it over my body. I didn't care how warm it was; I had to have a blanket over me. As I reached I hit something soft. It was like a wall, but with carpet covering it. What happened last night, I thought to myself. All I could remember was lifting up a table with Stacie after she had fallen over, then she told me to sit back down. Did anything happen? No, how could it, she had a boyfriend; she didn't seem like one to cheat.

Going back to the fact that there was something I had hit my arm of I had a question; was I home at Kong? I didn't want to open my eyes. I wanted t go back to sleep, but that question kept on coming back to my mind. I gave in. I opened my eyes. I was in the pub. Did I fall asleep here? Did I do it intentionally, or did I just fall asleep. I sat up with my head feeling very heavy, I needed my pills. The pain of a hangover was unbearable without my pills. I looked at the table beside the couch, that I found out I was sleeping on, I found a head of hair, jet black, scattered all over the table. Was it Stacie? I couldn't tell, because there was no purple shine, but there was not much light in the pub.

I took a lock of hair that was scattered across the table, brought it close and examined it. It did have a sort of, very vague, purple tint to it. It also smelled nice, too. Like mango or pineapple, or something tropical like that.

"Yep. Def'nutly Stacie." I spoke in a very quiet voice, because I didn't want to wake her. For all I knew, she could have been up all night and just dozed off about an hour ago.

I sat there, just staring at her. I watched her twitch and shove; I couldn't tell if she was having a good or bad dream. As she twitched, her hair slid off her arm. As it did, it revealed pinkie purple lines going across her wrist. They were straight, but not going in the same direction, each line was sort of doing its own thing, but not crossing over. They didn't look like an accident, but they didn't look like they had been done recently, about two years at the least. I would know, because I have got quite a few scars from Murdoc's beatings. She must have done them herself, you know, self harm and all that stuff that you see kids doing these days, but she wasn't a kid, she was twenty.

I stared at her arm, thinking of all the possibilities which would be the reason of those slashes being there. All the time that I was staring at her arm, I didn't notice that she had goose bumps on them. I stood up and leaned across the table. I pulled the sleeve down to her hands, she was wearing different clothes. Did she go home and come back or something? I lifted her hair up which was covering her other arm. I took a look at them as goose bumps developed and more of those slashes, that I now found were on her other arm. I pulled the sleeves down of her second arm half way, but was interrupted with her flinching and sitting up, as she did so, she drew her arm away from me and close to her body, she did the same with the other arm.

"S-sorry, you 'ad goose bumps on yer arms. I fought you were cold, so I rolled yer sleeves down. 'M sorry fo' waken yeh." I brought my body down on the seat as I spoke.

"'S'okay. I jus' go' worried in case it was Charlie." Her eyes were drowsy; you could just about see them through her fringe.

"Oh, bu' I didden mean ta wake yeh up. Sorry."

"No, 's fine. I wassen men' ta fall 'sleep, anyways. So, fanks fo' wakin me."

I gave out a tired laugh, "Yer welcome."

Stacie stretched her arm across the table, then up in the air and leaned back. She leaned too far back and the back to legs of the stool was supporting her weight. She leaned even further back and the back to legs of the stool slipped. She fell on the floor and the stool followed her.

"OOOOOOWWWWWWWCCCCHHHHHH!" she shouted as she landed on the floor. She smacked her head off the ground. I jumped up and ran over to her in a blink.

I kneeled down beside her. She was alright, but I lifted her head up onto my lap. "Are yew awigh'." I looked down at her.

"Yeah, I forgot I was on a stool." She gave out a slight laugh. "My 'ead 'urts. An' ev'ryfink is spinnin'."

"Don' worry, it jus' needs time to adjust. I do this all the time." I smiled at her and she smiled back.

"'K. 'm fine now."

I helped her up to her feet. "I fink you should si' down." I walked her to the couch thing up against the wall and we both sat down.

Stacie POV

I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was supposed to wake 2D up so that he and I could leave early. He would have to leave because apparently Murdoc wanted them to start rehearsing, but I don't know what for, and I had to leave because my parents don't like me staying out all night. I don't know why, I mean I'm 20. But what if 2D saw the slit scars I had on my wrist. What if that is the reason he was pulling my sleeves down. Maybe he didn't like the look of them so he had to hide them. What if he didn't want me to know that he was looking at them, so he put my sleeves down to act as if I hadn't put them up, which would make me assume that I he hadn't seen them. Oh, why did I have to wake up while he was pulling my sleeves down? Or even go to sleep at all?

As I was thinking about all this I was subconsciously using my left hand to stroke my right wrist.

"Um.....w- what.....um....I mean, if you don' min' me askin', erm... wha' are fose purple lines on your wris'?"

Shit. He just had to ask. I had lots of excuses that I would tell people, but I just didn't want to use an obvious one with 2D. I had words screaming at me in my head. I had go tell him the truth, but with a very simple answer, only revealing a skimpy bit.

"Oh. Er... bad child'ood," I smiled a very unconvincing smile. He clocked.

"Bad 'nough tha' i' would make you sli' your wris', then smile 'bout it unconvincin'ly?"

I felt the atmosphere in the room turn tense. I felt the feeling of all the reasons come back to me. I remember the first time someone ever saw my slits. A rush of emotions and thoughts filled up my head.

--FLASHBACK--

"Um, James, can you – wait, Stacie, I haven't heard you read before, why don't you read for a change."

I looked at Miss Thomas within a heartbeat from my session of window staring. The fact that she asked me to read made me shiver. She looked at me with a happy, almost too happy, I mean, really happy and an annoying smile going across her face. She had her hair back in a ponytail and a small strand of hair brushed behind her ear.

I looked down at the physical education text book. It was closed. I hadn't been paying attention, again. I hated theory lessons in PE, they were so boring. I looked back up at the teacher. I picked PE as a GCSE because I liked the practical side to it.

"Um, what page are we on?"

"Page fifty three, Stacie. Do you see now why I asked you to read?"

I lifted the book up and attempted to look for page 53. "Maybe, I's 'cus I can't."

"Can't what Stacie." She didn't have an angry tone to her voice, she was too nice.

"Can' read Miss."

I noticed the class laughing. I couldn't tell if they were laughing at the fact that I couldn't read, or the fact that I actually said it to the teacher.

"Yes you can, and you will."

"Fine," I snapped, "hold on."

I flicked through the pages in the book, until I finally came to page 53. The title on the page read 'Specific Diets'. It had picture of a man eating a banana. From what I could make out, I think he was a tennis player.

"Do I have to, Miss?" I winged, "I mean, I can' read, ask anyone here, they all know I can'."

"Stacie," she changed her tone, it was a little bit annoyed. Thank God there was a change in her tone. I thought she was some sort of zombie, being nice to us until she takes one of us into her office and sucks our brain out. "I have asked you to read, so you will. Do what the teacher tells you to do."

I lowered my head in defeat. I sighed and read the first sentence. "The startin'. Poin'. For. Any die' mus'. Um... primerly? No wai'. Um, primarilily, or is it. Wait. Ahh." I raised my hand from under the table with my wrist facing the ceiling, to rest my head on. My arm was too close to the table and it scraped against the edge of the table. I had a long sleeve shirt on, so I thought there was no harm done. I rested my head in my arm and continued. "Pri- *sigh* -prim. Ggghhhhuuuurrr. Miss, I can' read this."

"Stacie, i's primarily. Ge' i' righ', yeah. Yer in year 10 for fuck sake. Yeh downy." Gary, the person sitting beside me whispered this to me. He had a nice tone in his voice, but what he said was not so nice. He was the biggest knob in the world at this point of my life. "Oh, an' yer bleedin'."

"What? Where?" I looked around my hands and felt my face.

"Stacie, carry on reading."

Stupid women. She didn't understand that I can't and don't like reading.

"Sorry." I looked at the book. "Um, primarily. Be that it. Is balanced." my head shot up, "There Miss, finished the firs' sen'ence, now you can pass i' on ta the nex' person." My face was gleaming with a smile, but I knew what was coming next.

"Um, sorry Stacie, but you have to read the whole page." I looked at the book, not wanting to read at all.

I felt a sort of tingling down my arm.

"On yer arm." I turned my head towards Gary. It took me a few seconds to realise what he was on about.

"STACIE!" Miss Thomas shouted. Someone had to have caught that on camera.

"What!?" I snapped back. I needed to leave the class. The toilet was my main destination. I needed to wash my wrists. I needed to hide my arm. I needed to leave.

"What do you mean what? How dare you. I can't believe a child can be so rude."

The way she was acting was just what I needed, not sarcastically. "Sorry, Miss, I jus'... need the toila'."

"Well, you are not going until you read the page."

"Miss, I need ta go to the toila'. You can' 'old me 'ere agains' meh will."

"Excuse me Stacie. I am the teacher and you are the pupil. You are on school grounds, so you don't have the right to leave the classroom when you please."

"Bu', Miss, I really need ta go." I look down at my right sleeve. It had a patch of blood on it. I used my left hand to clutch my right wrist tightly.

"Well, finish your reading, then you can go. How does that sound?" she had a sarcastic tone in her voice.

I stood up off of my seat. "ALL I NEED TA DO IS GO FO' A PISS ND YOU WON' LE' ME DO THA'?"

She looked really shocked and scared, but still carried on.

"Stacie, you don't understand the school rules. You have to go to the toilet after the lesson."

Gary nudged me telling me to go, so I did. I walked through the obstacle course of tables and chairs with classmates staring at me in them.

"Um, where do you think you're going Stacie?"

"Ta the toila', where I said I wan'ed ta go." And I carried on walking.

"Stacie, I will have to call a higher member of staff if you are going to carry on with this attitude."

I didn't turn round but still said, " Well, yeh can ge' 'em ta tell me off whe' I come back. How does that sound?" I mimicked her voice as I spoke. I reached out a hand and grabbed the door knob, twisted it, swung the door open and left.

I ran as fast as I could to the bathroom, clutching my wrist all the way. I had my head down, looking at the floor. Without seeing where I was going, it would have been easy to bang into something, which I did, in fact, I bumped into someone. I wacked my shoulder off of the persons arm, he was really tall, but I still didn't see him. I swung around – unintentionally – and tripped over my leg, not letting go of my wrist. I got up straight away and carried on running. I think I left a drop of blood on the floor or something because I heard him calling me.

"Are yeh akay? Did yeh cu' yehself? Hey!" I heard footsteps following me. It only made me run faster.

I reached the toilet and turned the cold tap on. I didn't put my wrist in the water. I put both my hands on the edges of the sink and leaned over it, I felt like I was about to be sick. I attempted to vomit, but nothing came out.

I placed my arm under the cold water, my shirt sleeve as well. The blood wasn't coming off well. I was panicking. Then the door opened. I turned around within a fraction of a second to find a tall sixth former staring down at me; he was the person I bumped into. I couldn't see his eyes, they were covered by his sunglasses and his hat covered his hair, there was little bits of blue thread sticking out from the bottom of his hat. His mouth dropped as he looked at my arm – I would presume his eyes widened, though. His expression changed from shocked to concerned.

"Yer not awigh' are you?"

Busted. But I felt my eyes water. I couldn't cry. I didn't want to, I had no reason to. I cry at home, when I lock myself in my room. All I could hear in my head was 'don't cry, don't cry'. I held my tears back.

"No," I hid my face in my hands and sobbed. I didn't want to cry. I hated crying in front of people, because I hated people feeling sorry for me. I heard footsteps coming towards me. His arms wrapped around me and I hid my hands and face in his chest. He was shushing me soothingly.

I pulled out from him and wiped my eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean ta ge' yew we'."

"Don' worry. I'm no' even suppose ta be 'ere." I looked up at him a saw the funny side of his statement.

"Yeah, fis is the girls toila's."

"No. I men' tha' I ain' suppose ta be in de school." I looked at him, confused.

"Why?"

"I don' go school anymore."

Whoops. My bad. I thought he was a sixth former, but he doesn't even go to school.

"Oh, I fough' you were a six' forma or sumfink." I looked embarrassed.

"Nah, I dropped school afta GCSEs. But, um... are you awrigh'?" he changed to concerned, again.

"Yeah." I answered too quickly.

He stared at me, I presumed he was giving me the I'm-not-that-thick look, but I couldn't tell because of his sunglasses.

"There must be reason why you would do that to yourself."

I thought about it for a minute. I didn't want anyone to know what was going on.

"I don' really like ta talk 'bout it."

"Okay, bu' you have ta tell someone 'bou' stuff like tha', 'cus people can 'elp."

"I don' need anyone's 'elp."

"But, you can' keep hurtin' yourself like tha', somefink bad could 'appen."

"Well, nofink bad has happened, so I can do wha' I wan'. I don't need anyone ta tell me wha' I can and can' do. 'Specially if I dunno 'em. Jus' leave me 'lone "

"Well. Fine. Be tha' way. Bu' can you go ou' before me ta see if anyone's there, because...well...I mean, this is the girls toilats."

I nodded and walked to the door. I opened it and peered my head out the door way. There were no teachers there. I turned to face the guy and nodded to tell him that the coast was clear.

He walked out the door and I continued with cleaning my arm.

--BACK TO REALITY--

"I don' really like ta talk 'bout it."

"Bu' did you do it yerself?" his voice was calming, but concerned.

"Yeah." I looked down at my fiddling hands.

"Sorreh, bu' stuff like tha' creaps me ou'."

"Well, 'em sorry fo' creapin' you out."

I felt sad. I hated feeling sad. But one thing that I wasn't going to do was cry.

Finito – I fink that is how you spell it. Smiles. Review please. :)