I shook my head, trying to block out the noise. Paige had gone back to class, and Mr. Simpson, the nurse, and Ms. Sauve were talking about what to do. The nurse had given me immediate medical attention, and while my arm now mildly stung, it had stopped bleeding completely. Every time I had tried to sneak out of the nurse's office, I was stopped. By now, I had given up. I was stuck, and I was caught. I wondered if they were going to tell my mom, and then I realized that it wouldn't matter. She wouldn't care. Of course, they might tell my dad. As soon as I thought about my dad finding out, the urge to cut struck again. I was literally shaking as I bit my nails, trying to resist. There was a letter opener on the desk next to me. If I was quiet enough, I could reach out and grab it, and no one would know. But I tried not to think about that.

Eventually, Ms. Sauve pulled up a chair and sat down next to me. "Ellie, Mr. Simpson has to go back to his class now, and the nurse is going to help someone else. It's just you and me. No one is listening, okay?"

I pretended to ignore her.

Ms. Sauve sighed and continued on. "Ellie, I must admit, I haven't had much experience with self-harmers. But the most critical thing is that we keep talking. I contacted your mom. She must be out, she didn't answer. However, I would like to arrange a meeting with your mom, you, and myself. We can try to figure out where to go from here. How does that sound?"

I tried not to laugh in her face. Instead, I just nodded.

"So right now, how about we talk?" I nodded and she went on.

"So what really happened in the washroom, Ellie?"

I shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

"Did you cut yourself?"

I sighed and finally spoke. "Why do you care."

"Because that's my job, Ellie. I'm here to help you, to help every student. Because cutting yourself is very dangerous. You could bleed to death, or pass out like you did. Paige is just trying to help, she did the right thing. She isn't your mother, and she may not be your best friend, but she cares. She cares because she doesn't want to lose you."

"You're joking. Paige doesn't care about me. She just wants my co-op job, she wants to make me miserable."

"Ellie, if you are hurting yourself, you already are miserable. Paige just wants to help, and this is her way of doing that."

I couldn't believe Ms. Sauve was defending Paige like this. Paige has always been rude and mean to me. Why would she all of a sudden just start caring? Not possible.

"Yeah," I said quietly. I just wanted to be left alone like I usually am.

"Can I see your arm, Ellie?" asked Ms. Sauve

I looked at her, a little bit shocked. "Why?"

"I want to see how much our talks have been helping. If they have at all." She raised her hand and hovered it above my arm.

I took off the arm warmer and slowly peeled off the thick, blood stained bandages. I heard Ms. Sauve mumble something that was supposed to be comforting, I guess.

"Oh my god. Ellie! Paige, told me you were in here, what happened? Did you get hurt?" said Ashley in one single breath.

I didn't know what to say. I was floored. Embarrassed, scared, surprised, ashamed. So many feelings I wanted to cut out, but I couldn't. Not right now. Not with Ash and Ms. Sauve here. Ashley looked back and forth from me to Ms. Sauve. We were all being quiet, stunned in different ways I guess. No one was saying anything, so I took a breath and said it myself.

"Nothing really happened. I just..tried to feel better." I couldn't look Ashley in the eye, so I stared blankly at the wall behind her.

"What..oh no. Ellie, you never told me." Ms. Sauve got up out of the chair and Ashley took her place.

"It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is. You're my best friend! I can't lose you." Ashley was staring at the cuts and scratches on my arm. I put my hand up to my arm and covered it.

"Ellie, why are you doing this?" Ashley was asking me this? Ashley? I thought she would understand. But she didn't. She had never been where I was. She had never loved a knife.

"I..I guess it's because..it's the only pain..I can control.."

"You know, I cut myself once."

I looked up in shock at Ashley's open admission. "No way."

"Yeah. It was a long time ago. When Jimmy called me a slut. The cut was an accident but it felt good. It made me feel better."

"Jimmy called you a slut?" I was disgusted at Jimmy all of a sudden.

"It's a thing of the past. Anyway, I guess I never cut again because I didn't want to have to depend on an object to feel better. I had to make my soul feel better before I would let an object control my moods."

I nodded but I didn't really understand.

"Look, Ellie. There are rumors going around. People are saying..well people are being really rude. If you want, I can set them straight."

"What are they saying? Specifically?" I had to know. I just had to.

"Jimmy said, 'What a weirdo. I always knew she was insane.'"

"What else," I demanded loudly.

"Things like that. Even parents know. Emma's mom came down to the school to comfort Mr. Simpson. He was really upset about this. I don't know why, but Emma didn't really understand why anyone would do this to themselves. So Emma's mom and Mr. Simpson are arranging this assembly to discuss.." Ashley trailed off nervously.

"WHAT? No way. They are going to talk about me? In public? About this?" I started to panic, I needed something sharp right now, I needed to brush it against my skin. I needed to feel the metal kissing the skin, biting it. I didn't just want it anymore, I desperately needed it. I needed to feel my pain go away in the small stream of blood coming from the wound. I needed to watch it, I needed to lose control and yet gain it at the same time. I stood up and looked around frantically.

"No. Ellie, no! They aren't going to talk about you, just about this issue. In general. Ellie, what are you doing?" asked Ashley in a rush.

I grabbed that letter opener I had stared at earlier. I clutched it desperately in my hand, not letting go. I heard Ashley calling out to Ms. Sauve. I wanted to cut but I couldn't. Not with them there, just looking at me, staring, waiting to see what I did next. To see if I would do it in front of them. Instead, I just held it, feeling the sharp edge against my palm. It felt familiar and it comforted me, just a little. Ms. Sauve told me to put the letter opener down and when I did, she said something very quietly about how I was improving bit by bit and about how I would get eventually get completely better. But why couldn't anyone see? If 'getting better' meant not releasing my pain, then I wanted to stay ill forever. Forever.