A/N: So I know that I took forever to update. Life just got crazy busy. And I know this chapter is short (and it has flashbacks, seriously now, I'm pretty sure they're the last ones) but I promise the next couple are pretty long. And not as depressing as this one. Maybe that will make up for this taking so long? Anyhow, thanks so much for reading and please review!

The hospital had been weird. It'd had hardly felt like he'd been there at all, with its bright lights and cleanliness and whirring machines. There were people there, tons of people; all of them looking at him with such sad eyes that he wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. Then he was weaned off the meds and he knew that he was alive. His left arm was bandaged tightly; to the point where even the pressure was painful and he was sure he was alive. Surely, death wouldn't be as cruel as that. No, according to the doctors and Pop Smith and Ella and her parents, he was alive.

He hadn't meant for that to happen. Those people were supposed to be at his funeral, not at his bedside. He wasn't even really sure how he was alive, actually. No, Gary Smith had made pretty sure that death would be his next destination. He'd just gotten lucky, he guessed, lucky in some kind of sadistic way.

The meds in the cabinet were his mother's, expired and foreign, with names he couldn't pronounce, but he knew exactly what they did. They made her numb and spaced out and they were perfect for Gary Smith. Eight, he taken, before he stood before the bathroom mirror clad in only boxer shorts and a tired grin. The house was silent, just the way he wanted. Pop was at the neighborhood poker game and Anne Marie, well, she was just gone like usual and Ella was out with Bif. It was the perfect night to feel nothing, to just stand and not be able to feel the cool tiles against his feet. He hadn't originally planned to do anything, not until he accidentally dropped a hairbrush on his foot and there was nothing but the pressure of the handle. That made the ideas swirl, the ones he'd only pushed aside in his darkest moments, now they seemed to make so much sense. He was sure of it. Nothing would change for them if he were gone. Things would be better, for everybody. Pop wouldn't have to worry about taking care of Gary, Anne Marie could just keep on getting drunk, and Ella, well, she could be friends with whoever she wanted. He wouldn't weigh her down any longer.

It'd started with a hairbrush, but it escalated quickly. An old curling iron seared the skin on his forearm, burning it a lively pink, but he couldn't feel it. There was just the smell of burning hair on his arm. He thought about taking more pills, but there weren't many more left, nothing that would do serious damage. So he filled the bath and stepped inside. The water was just there, taking up space between the tub and him. He didn't know what temperature it was, didn't know what to do next, before he saw Pop's razor resting against the sink. He struggled to grab it, but once he did, the possibilities seemed endless. Yes, things would be easy with this little tool, he thought.

A note. For this to be real, he'd have to write a note. Tell everybody how he really felt. Let them know that this was his decision. Getting out of the bath again, he scrambled down the hall to his bedroom. He had plenty of time, and by now, plenty of will. Things would be easier from now on.

He thought about whom to write the note to, and his mind settled on Ella too quickly, too easily. In defiance, he wrote one to Pop and one to his mother that blamed her for everything, with words he'd never dare speak to her in life. Ella's note was harder, because his mind was too clogged then, too many thoughts darting everywhere. The meds were wearing off, so he wrote something meaningless and messy and taped them all to the mirror in the bathroom so they'd be found quickly before he headed back to the tub.

The razor was trickier than he imagined, because it was of those safe models with many blades so he had to pry them out before he attempted anything. His fingertips bled more than he would've thought, there was so much blood in the water and he hadn't even done anything yet, but eventually, one was free. It was broken in half and the blade was nicked in one spot, but it would do. He only needed one.

The first cut was cathartic, beads of blood bubbling across the broken vessels. It was almost kind of pretty to look at. The second and the third and the fourth, those were the ones that he was sure were going to do him in, but just to be sure, he kept going. Over and over, until he couldn't hold onto the razor anymore. It floated away, into the pretty pink water and Gary floated above himself, watching a boy lie in a tub covered in his own blood and his own pity. He didn't regret it, but he wasn't impressed.

Just before the lights faded, there was a silhouette in the mirror. He didn't catch the person, just the movement.

If he only done something else with the notes, his plans would've worked. If he hadn't taped them to the mirror, he'd be dead.

But Gary Smith didn't know that.

The night that changed Ella's life had started out with nothing extraordinary. It was the end of July and she had summer course work to catch up on, so she headed into town with her backpack and her MP3 player. She always did her best work at the beach, with the smell of salt water and the gentle waves hitting the shore. The beach was quiet, and Ella had always thought that Bullworth was really missing out on some serious tourist cash by not marketing their little piece of the ocean more actively. Although it was nice place to get work done when the weather was warm.

She'd gotten lost in summer reading, Catcher in the Rye clutched between her fingertips when a body loomed above her, blocking the sun with its presence.

"I thought you'd be here when Ricky said you were doing schoolwork." Gary said, holding his hand above his eyes as a shield from the sun. "Haven't you ever heard of the library?"

Ella frowned at him, tugging on the strap of her bathing suit to hide the way her hands wanted to clench at her sides. She was still angry with him for last week, even though she couldn't completely remember why. It'd something do with Bif; of course it did, because they always fought about him. Ella was always doing something wrong and Gary always made sure that she knew about it.

"I thought we had an agreement about things, Gary? I'm still mad at you, and you agreed to give me some room to breathe. Remember?" She sighed, closing her book. It was getting late anyhow, she thought, even as he flopped onto the sand next to her.

"All because I said that your boyfriend probably had a small-" He started, letting the sound of her the back of her hand flapping against his arm finish the sentence. She was very sensitive when it came to Bif's genitalia.

"We agreed, Gary. We came to it mutually."

"You were also mad because I wanted to visit my mom down in Virginia."

She shot him a look, which nearly caught him off guard. "You're not seriously still considering that, right? Please, tell me you came to your senses."

"She's been calling all week. She almost sounds sober."

"Well, yeah, if she calls before ten in the morning, she might almost be sober. She's probably still running on yesterday's vapor. Promise me, Gary, that you won't go."

"I'm not going to promise. You're not the end all-be all of advice, Ella."

She scowled and started to pick up her towel, but he grabbed a corner. "Give it back, Smith."

"Come over later?" He asked instead, catching her eyes in a way that made her feel guilty and consider even maybe changing her answer.

"I have a date with Bif."

It was a lie, but Gary had been acting so strange lately that she'd rather relax at home with her family than go over to his place. Ricky had been punished with house arrest after trying to steal a grapefruit from Yum-Yum market. He'd gotten off with a warning but he still had to deal with the police, and because of his friends and the way he dressed, things were treated more seriously than they should've been. But it was more than just wanting to spend time with her brother.

She loved Gary, but ever since they slept together he felt more like a bomb ready to go off instead of her best friend.

"I see. I'll walk you home?"

He said in such a sensitive way that she smiled and agreed. Their stroll was quiet, they mostly complained about summer homework from teachers that they hadn't even met yet and the dorm rooms they would get as seniors. Ella watched though, carefully, noting the way that Gary kept his left hand in a fist as they shuffled along. She knew that he was mad, he was always mad lately, and wanted to see how long she could dodge the eruption.

At her front stoop, he handed her the beach towel, not bothering to shake it out. "Can I ask you a question?"

She nodded, "Of course."

"Have you been avoiding me?" He looked her square in the eyes, and she could tell that he knew the answer before she opened her lips.

"A little bit."

"Why?"

"You've been acting weird, I guess, I don't know, Gary. Things are really awkward and I feel like it's my fault. I just figured that things would only get worse if we were forced to spend a ton of time together. I mean, they have. We fight all the time, over the silliest things."

"I'm over it, Ella. Seriously. I've completely forgotten."

Ella watched the way he bit his bottom lip, as though he were bracing himself for the worst, and all she could do was watch as her mouth got the worst of her.

"No, you haven't. I can't deal with the guilt of ruining our friendship over something that was a rash decision. I cannot deal, Gary."

"I'm fine."

"No. You're not. We're not. It's not just you. I made a bad decision." Ella felt her nerves clutching around her diaphragm, catching her words. "I can't deal with it."

"I'm fine." Gary repeated again, his hands fluttering to catch hers. "It's okay."

Ella smiled sadly. "I wish you could admit when things are broken, Gar, I wish you could. You are so good at pretending."

"We're not broken. We're solid. We're completely solid."

"No."

He caught her then, caught her fists and brought her close, into the bulk of his body. She didn't know what to do, how to react, so she froze hard, muscles tensing everywhere, and she knew that he could feel it between their flimsy summer clothes.

"Gary, we need a break. We're going to kill ourselves by trying to forget what happened while we're still orbiting each other. We need to space ourselves. Do you understand?" She whispered it into his chest, her lips catching the heather grey of his cotton t-shirt. She could feel his heart between them. It was even, and it made Ella just a little bit afraid. Her own was rasping underneath her sundress.

"No." It was controlling and she immediately hated him just a little bit. "You're all that I have in this world."

"That's sick, Gary. You have plenty of people that love you."

"Name them, I dare you. Name them." He demanded, pushing her away. "Go ahead."

"Pop Smith loves you. I'm sure your mother loves you in some kind of fucked up way, when she's sober. Your father. Dean. Ricky. Me. I love you, Gary. I love you and you're scaring me."

He kissed her then, hard, his mouth grabbing her own, against her will and she reacted the only way that she could manage, the only way that her wriggling body would allow, by galloping backwards and swinging her fist as hard as she could against his jaw. Ella gasped for air and said things that she couldn't control.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She spat, throwing her backpack against the porch floor. "What is wrong with you?"

He didn't answer right away, and when he finally did, he threw his head back and cackled into the humid summer evening. She wasn't sure what to do then, so she stood, mouth agape and watched Gary Smith unravel in front of her very own eyes.

"I guess I'm not good enough for you? I'm not enough for you? I'm a good friend, but we're nothing more than that right? Why does Bif get to be the one that you choose? Why does he get first pick? What makes him so much better than me? What made you choose him? Don't I get a choice, Ella? Don't I get to decide once in a while what happens to me? Don't I?" He took a deep breath. "Despite what you think, you're all that I have, Ella. You're it and I can't lose you. Please, Ella. Please."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Gary, I know. I understand. I don't know what else to do. I don't. Tell me, okay? Tell me what you want, and I'll try, okay?"

He stepped back, before answering, "Don't leave me, please. Don't go."

She didn't want to say it, not really, but it needed to be said. She needed it. "I've decided that maybe we shouldn't be friends for a while." She whispered, her eyes pointed towards her flip-flops. "Ever since we... Ever since we slept together, things have been too tense. I think that maybe we should just be apart from one another."

"Ella." He pushed her, maybe just to jar her, maybe to scare her, but she barely noticed.

"Just for a week or so. Maybe 'til we get back to school. Please? Tell me you understand?" She asked, watching in horror as he descended the front stairs. "Gary?"

"I get it. It's fine. We're okay, El. Don't worry."

"Gary, come on. I'm not going anywhere."

He smiled for a brief second. "I know. We're good, Ella."

He walked across the street and waved before he went inside. She wasn't sure what else to do, so she picked up her things and walked inside. Ricky had been asleep, taking a nap after being up all night watching bad television, and she was glad. If he'd been awake, he probably would've gone outside to see what the commotion was, and Ricky always sided with her.

Her parents hadn't noticed her detachment at first, or at least they didn't mention it outwardly, but a glance exchanged between the pair was enough to breech the subject during dinner.

"I fought with Gary."

"Oh. Just apologize." Ricky said with a shrug.

"You don't understand. Gary holds grudges better than anybody I know."

"Other than yourself? Because you're pretty good, from what I understand." Her father commented with a wink and a grin. "But he's your best friend. He'll get over it."

"I don't think so. It was a big blowout. I'm just going to steer clear for a while." Ella resolved, catching her mother's eyes.

"I'm sure you don't want to discuss what it was about-"

"No."

"But, I'm sure it if you don't go across the street right now, it will eat at you for the rest of your life." She finished, watching Ella closely.

Ella sighed, pushing a piece of chicken with her fork. "Fine. I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Don't clear my plate."

The sun had gone down and the night had gotten cold, the wind off the water cooling the town. She shivered as she climbed the stairs and as her knuckles hit the worn wood of the doorframe.

No answer. She knocked again but there was no movement inside of the house. He was home, that she knew from the lights, which Pop would've turned off if they both went out, so she twisted the door handle. It was open. She had a key, but she would've had to go back home to get it.

"Gary?" She called. "It's Ella. I want to talk, is that okay?"

Silence. Nothing. She thought that maybe he was upstairs, listening to music with headphones on, which he usually did when he was upset, so she rounded the first couple steps with only a little bit of apprehension tugging at her.

His room was empty, and she thought that maybe he'd gone out after all, to blow off steam. She felt stupid and turned on her heel when she looked on the other side of the hall to the bathroom. The door was open slightly but the light wasn't on, only the glowing nightlight plugged on the side of the pedestal sink. That wasn't odd, that's how it was normally kept, but there was something wrong with the mirror. Normally, she could catch her reflection from her spot in the doorway, but there was something blocking it. Curious, she took a few steps to nudge the door, waiting for the mirror to give up her reflection, but all she saw were three white squares, and from the hall she could see words scrawled on them. Harder now, she edged the door open so that she could fit through.

Her name caught her attention initially, but it was the figure in the tub that jarred her. Perhaps Gary had been in there the whole time, trying to ignore her to get Ella to leave. In the dim light, she fumbled to get out, catching her sandal on the wet tile.

"I'm sorry, Gar, I had no idea you were in here." She murmured, struggling to find the light switch because he didn't answer and she wanted to look him in the eyes if he was going to be so stubborn.

Time ceased to exist as Ella saw the crimson water, and it was only the shrill sound of her screams that pulled her from shock, increasingly louder and combined with violent tears. The phone in Pop's room seemed miles away as Ella managed to untangle herself from her emotions and pound in three numbers that she never wanted to use, not like this, not because of this and she listened as calmly as possible to the female voice on the line, who said help would be there soon.

She went back to the bathroom, and he was there, mouth agape, eyes still open and Ella pressed herself into the porcelain grabbing his hand, noting that his right arm was untouched, perfectly fine, and then she gently took his left palm against hers. She'd never seen anything like that, not even in movies and she was sure that he was dead. Blood seemed to coming from everywhere, from his wrist to the crook of his elbow, and Ella knew. She knew it in her bones, but she searched quickly, for anything that might help before pulling the elastic headband she'd been wearing out of her hair. Looping it above his elbow, Ella tightened it so hard that she watched his lips twitch as it bit his skin.

"Please, Gary, just hold on a little bit longer, please." She whispered, holding his left arm above his head. "Please!"

"El?" His mouth didn't move, but she heard it, she heard the wheeze from his lungs just before she heard the footsteps on the porch.

"Gary. Just keep breathing, please. Focus on my voice."

"Ella, I'm sleepy." He smiled briefly, and she wished that the happiness hadn't been caused by the violence he'd committed against himself. "El, I'm sleepy. I love you, though."

"I love you too, Gary."

The paramedics pushed her aside then, banished her into the hallway where she cowered in the corner, soaked with his blood, shaking. Tears flooded her vision, blurring as they carried him out of the bathroom. She was almost sure that he was completely covered by that sheet. Head to toe. She cried harder, as Ricky picked her up, gently coaxing her into his car to bring her to the hospital, and she wasn't sure what was worse, knowing that he was dead, or knowing that he was dead and it was completely her fault.

But at five the next morning, the doctors told them that he was stable finally, but he'd lost a lot of blood. They'd fixed him, Ricky said, shaking her by the shoulders.

Ella wasn't that optimistic.