Thank you for the reviews.

Now there are moments where I have gone dark in my fics. I do usually take something that I don't personally deal with, research it and try and interpret it in a way that might be relatable to some people. And this is another instance of that.

And I am not going to lie, I have been worried about this chapter because of what it touches on, even though I wanted it to go in this way.

Shall we check in with Amelia?

TW: description of Self-harm

Worse Than a Teacher's Pet

As much as Amelia wished that she could, she knew that she couldn't avoid Michaela forever. She hadn't actually seen much of Michaela since her second day but she had tried not to be alone, sitting in the canteen at lunchtimes when she could.

Although the hustle and bustle of the canteen was good when she was trying to hide from a bully and her own thoughts, it made her concentration levels drop. Meaning that when she wanted to finish her art homework, she opted for the art room and put in her headphones in the hope that she wouldn't be disturbed.

Amelia felt like it was only because she had the music at such a low level that she heard Michaela and her little gang walk into the art room. As much as she didn't want to hear what they had to say, Amelia gave them the courtesy that her mother had drummed into her and pulled on her headphones to get them out of her ears, dropping them onto the table next to her sketchbook.

"Other than you sharing the same surname, I wouldn't guess that you were related to Jamie. I mean, how are you two related? He is well fit." Michaela said.

It wasn't the first time that James had been gushed over by every girl in their year and the ones above and below them. If anything, Amelia didn't blame them. James had one of the biggest hearts that she knew and she loved how he was so kind and affectionate.

And she supposed that he wasn't too bad looking. She was his twin sister after all.

"I don't really understand how that has anything to do with how we are related. He just got Mum's natural confidence while I am her more… reserved side."

"Doesn't make him not fit."

"Like I said, I don't understand how that has anything to with us being related."

"Don't you think he is fit?"

"He is my twin brother. That would just be wrong on so many levels."

"Whatever," Michaela said as she pulled Amelia's sketchbook from her before Amelia could react. "You're a crap artist. What is this meant to be?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand art."

"Ooh. She has a bit of fight in her, girls."

"It is a cubism inspired piece. Like I said, I don't expect you to understand art."

As much as Amelia didn't understand the fight in her, she knew that it was important that she was fighting this. Because her art was the only thing she had. James had a deeper connection with their mum. Their mum focused more on James' behaviour because he would always outwardly show how he was feeling. Her art kept her sane. Her art was the way that she escaped. She couldn't add that she was a crap artist to the things that she told herself.

"Whatever it is meant to be, it is crap," Michaela said.

"It might help if it was finished. Can I have it back? Please?" Amelia said, trying not to get upset over it.

"You sound pathetic," Michaela said as she dropped the book back onto the table.

Amelia couldn't stop herself from reaching out and grabbing the book, pulling it to her chest to keep it safe from any more ridicule.

"You are just pathetic, aren't you? I would hate to be your twin."

Amelia was glad that she managed to keep it together until after Michaela had gone, where she squeezed her eyes as tightly as she could to stop herself from crying, digging her nails into her forearms as she tried to tell herself that James didn't hate being her twin and that Michaela was wrong.

She allowed her arms to relax slightly and she slid her sketchbook onto the table to have a look at the work she had done. Without really thinking about it, she ripped the page out of the book and screwed it up before throwing it across the room.

Why did Michaela have to take away her comfort blanket?

The best thing about being in sixth form was the fact that once Amelia was done for the day, she could leave school and go home. After her encounter with Michaela, there was nowhere else she would rather be, knowing that she can let her frustrations out in an empty house better than if her mum and brother were home.

She made a quick stop on her way home to the local supermarket and was glad that she could pick up a cheap sketchbook and a set of pencils and pens. She needed to do something and this seemed like it might be the way to go about it.

But once she got home and into the safety of her bedroom, her feelings had completely changed as she started to draw roughly into the paper. There was no rhyme or rhythm to what she was drawing which is probably why Amelia felt like it wasn't helping as it was meant to and she could stop her jaw from trembling as her actions slowed down and she looked at the drawing on the page.

Michaela was right. She was a crap artist.

It had to be at that time that she heard the front door close and James run up the stairs while their mum called out to say that they were home.

She balled up her fists, trying to dig her nails into her hands, as she leant her forehead against them. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to stop herself from crying for the second time that day.

If anything, she wished that she was stronger. She wished that she could fulfil the promise that she made to her mum when this happened the first time. But she knew that she couldn't give her mum anything more to worry about.

If they hadn't returned home, Amelia was sure that she would have let out a scream but she couldn't alert them to the way that she was feeling. She knew that it would pass. It always passed.

She leant back in her chair, wiping her hands down her face as she did so, letting them rest together underneath her nose, with her thumbs resting underneath her chin, like she was praying.

Maybe she was. Maybe she was praying for a cure to how she was feeling.

Her attention was taken by the new pencils and she knew that there was one way that she made feel better last time. She just wouldn't go to the same lengths that she did last time.

She picked one up and tested the sharpness of the lead with her thumb. She pulled down the sleeve of her right arm enough so that her wrist was showing before she pushed the point into her wrist. She held it there for a couple of moments before she pulled it away to see the small indent on her skin. She replaced the tip of the pencil in the indent and pressed a little harder, biting onto her lip as she tried to focus on the pain rather than the thoughts.

Amelia knew that whatever she was feeling earlier had been diluted to this numbness feeling that she could deal with. It was the same numbness that had got her through dinner and she knew that she had been a little too quiet when she heard her mum knock on her door. There was nothing else that Amelia could do other than to tell her mum to come in, knowing that it would just raise her mum's suspicions more if she didn't.

"Are you okay darling?" She said as she dropped into the chair next to Amelia's desk.

"Yeah, it just seems like I still have a lot to catch up on for only 'missing' a term. And we have now been there a term."

"You know, if you are struggling with maths, you could always ask Eddie. I am sure he wouldn't mind."

"Maths seems to be the one that I am caught up with. Mainly because he did help catch me up."

"You were rather quiet at dinner."

"Mum, I'm fine. We haven't had another falling out."

"I know. Because James would be in an awful mood if you had done. You know I worry about you."

"Mum, I'm fine," Amelia repeated.

Amelia did wonder whether her mum was going to push it when she sighed. But she watched as her mum picked up one of her French essays, probably reading Miss Haydock's comments rather than what Amelia had written.

"She is awful. Do you have to get rid of the supply teacher when Haydock returns?" Amelia said.

"One step at a time. I've just managed to get her out of Pastoral Care and Tom in. We will see how she does as financial director before I say that she might benefit from some retraining." Her mum looked up at her. "And I suppose it is quite a bit to catch up on."

"It isn't like we haven't done it before."

"I promise you, you will be able to finish your A Levels at Waterloo Road."

"You said that about our GCSEs and Westborough."

"I know that."

"And we ended up doing them at Fazakerley in Liverpool. An hour away."

"I know. But Waterloo Road is going to need a couple of years for my vision to work and I want to be there to see if it works."

"You also said that about Westborough."

"Alright cheeky." Her mum sighed. "Maybe… I have more of a reason to stay this time round."

"Dad?"

She smiled at Amelia. "You are actually going to call him that?"

"Why not? He is, isn't he? He has a bit of paper to prove it."

"I always knew that you wouldn't be the problem when we did find him."

"Yeah, well… I didn't see that side of Robert, did I?"

"Doesn't mean that it didn't affect you."

"Honestly Mum, I'm fine."

"Okay."

Amelia could only smile as she knew that her mum's next move would be to rise from the chair and walk over to her to place a kiss in her hair. Amelia couldn't stop herself from placing a hand on her mum's arm as she pulled her into a hug. It was what Amelia needed, even if she didn't know that she did.

"You know you can always talk to me. About anything." Her mum said.

"I know."

She knew her mum had given her a number of chances to tell her how she was actually feeling but Amelia felt like she couldn't burden her with it. Because things weren't as bad as they were last time yet and until things reached that way again, there was no point in worrying her mum over nothing, was there?