Jeeeez. I thought I was gonna update this sooner. Shit. Welp, I shuld prolly end this break…I should probably be doing my homework now but I think tht can wait.

{Her Visitors}

When she opened her eyes, she expected nothing. Mainly because she thought she was dead. Instead, she was greeted by the beeping of a heart monitor. Mom, where are you? I want to see you. Why can't I be with you?

Her eyes stared, blank, at the ceiling; was she supposed to be happy that she was alive? Was she supposed to be disappointed? She was alone when she was alive, and she wouldn't have anyone when she was dead, so what's the point? Why save someone like her?

Hours passed in the dreary room, night turned to morning and time seemed to blur together. Was she tired? Hungry? Angry? Remorseful? She didn't know; she was broken.

Broken. That one word seemed to explain everything. Her life had been shattered beyond repair and she was waiting for it to end.

The first knock came several hours after the sun rose. A black haired head poked in, but only the top was visible, as the visitor stared at the floor, "Hey, Lucy? When are you going to wake up? I've been waiting and worrying for so long…"

"I've been awake since before dawn." She said quietly.

Isaac's head snapped up. Tears started running down his face, "I thought you'd never wake up!" he sounded like a little kid separating from their parents and going to their first day of school. Isaac ran over to Lucy and threw his arms around her. "You were sleeping," he hiccupped, "every time I came to visit you. Always, always sleeping," He sobbed. "Don't ever leave me again, Lucy. Please,"

"I won't, I promise." Lucy whispered into his hair. Tears dripped down her face as she hugged him tight, close. He was the only person who knew she was alive, who cared she was alive, who'd be sad to see her go. He was her world and she was his.

Isaac climbed into bed with her but kept his arms around her waist. "What were you thinking when you started cutting?" He sobbed, yawned, and hiccupped at the same time.

"What was I thinking?" Lucy had she been thinking? Maybe it was because that's the stereotype. When you start hurting you have to begin cutting. Maybe she wanted to distract herself with pain. "I don't know," She finally said.

As he started to snore softly, she stared at his face. His eyes were red and puffy and huge, dark bags sat under them. There were cuts on his neck. They were thin, but they were definitely there.

He almost did it, she thought, horrified. And he would've, had he not thought of you. You see, he isn't selfish like you. The voice in the back of her head cackled. Tears cascaded down her face. I'm a horrible person. I thought about nobody but myself.

She cried herself to sleep.

The next knock woke her from her sleep, but Isaac still clung to her waist. The first thing she saw was a bouquet of flowers, yellow. Next, a waterfall of red hair appeared. Erza walked in, large chrysanthemums in hand.

Lucy watched as her best friend walked toward her slowly, wearily, as if she were a delicate doll made of china about to fall of a ledge.

"You've been out for about three days. Natsu and Gray have stopped fighting. We've all stopped and then started worrying about you." Erza didn't say anything about the boy; didn't even glance at him, but Lucy knew she would not approve.

When she didn't answer, her best friend went on, "We're worried about you."

"You said that already." Lucy said in a hoarse whisper.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew…" Erza paused for a moment, debating about something in her mind. Lucy could almost see the gears whirring, the scale shifting. She saw when she made up her mind and walked towards her in a determined sort of way. "We…know. About the boy—him—I mean. From Rogue," Erza said, slowly at first. Then she sped up, "he told us that he went to your room and that he saw you. With him." She paused for a long moment. "Drunk,"

Lucy looked at her, stared into the girl she'd known for years, and saw the denial in her eyes. She deliberately waited for her to ask.

"So…did you…did you really…"

"Drink? Was I drunk? Did I do drugs? Is that what you want to know?" Lucy finished for her. She wasn't ashamed to admit it. No, she wasn't ashamed, nor was she mad that she had asked. To her, she was Lucy. She was just herself, no big brand name; nothing. She didn't have to worry, to keep up with her lifestyle, nothing. In fact, if anything, she was happy. So freaking happy-happy about so many changes in her life, even if they destroyed her.

So what if it lowered her life-span? Who cared? If she died, she died happy. What was the point of living just to breathe? To her, who had lost everything, lost her goals, morals, and everything else, she could do whatever she wanted without consequence. She could be happy for no reason, laugh for no reason. She was not tethered down anymore. She had nothing—no one—to keep her from doing what she wanted; she was not a child anymore.

Erza stared at her. She didn't want her to say it; she didn't want to believe it. Believe that the girl she'd known for so long, for so many years; someone she'd gone through many hardships with, had broken down with something so simple, so insignificant. Maybe, she thought dully, it was all those little things building up, weighing down on her that go too heavy, and, like an old bridge, broke her. And maybe, just maybe, I hadn't actually fixed the bridge's cracks, but painted over them.

Slowly, the red head turned to look at her former best friend's face. "You didn't answer my question." She said angrily. If she had been the reason for her friend's breakdown, she was going to fix it.

"Do you want me to say it? Do you somehow feel guilty about it? Because, I assure you, this was my own choice. It was not peer-pressure. I wanted this." Lucy flared.

"And what you want is not always what you need." Erza started shaking her head. "Did you or did you not drink alcohol and use drugs?" She deliberately enunciated every syllable though clenched teeth.

"And what if I say yes?" Lucy challenged. "Hm? What will you do?"

"That depends on your answer." Erza spat.

"No," Lucy lied. She lied because, despite her outer layer of hate and menace, she had a soft spot for her old friend; just a tiny one; one only big enough so that she would say anything to make her feel better. "it's not your fault."

That last paragraph. Omg. I almost didn't do it. But I think I liked it bettr this way. I also think im more focused on a different writing project atm. I started this chapter at least 3 months and 10 days ago. And now I think I kno how im gonna end this. This will probably be up to 4 more chapters and then ill have an epilogue. Thank you all for reading this far. And im totally changing the whole poll idea it was stupid. I don't write romances. Im not that kind of girl. So, again, thanks for reading and sticking with me for so long.

-Kleo