Held Captive
Ellie has a passion Craig has a band Spinner has a secret, how will it all end?
Contains; Romance, Discussions about cutting
Pairings; Ellie?, Ashley Craig, Marco Dylan
Chapter Nine; Cries Of Two
+ - + - +
I'm scheduled to leave at 1:30pm and right now it's 10:25am. I haven't slept. I'm too anxious to leave. I need to get away from here. I lye on my bed and look up at the boring ceiling. There were no phone calls left from mom. Not really that surprised. I haven't written in the diary since that day, I think it's useless. Today I'm also put down for talking to that Jacqueline chick. What will she tell me that I already don't know? Don't cut, it's not good for you, it's dangerous, what the hell? I know this, it's just, addicting. I picture my mom or my hatred as I cut. It's like releasing my tears. Something that I should be doing instead of cutting. Darlene said her sister Vicky cut and she came here. Not like it helped. She committed suicide the next day. She didn't get into the details. I don't know about suicide. Something tells me it's wrong and something tells me it's a big decision. It's the end to your life, the end of everything. End to worries. Somewhat wrong somewhat right.
I can't get the thought of Ashley out of my head. Craig and me? Please. I'd like to date someone who can actually do their hair. She was just jealous that I got into the band. Although he did seem to come on a little strong at lunch. Maybe she does have a reason for being angry. But that is no excuse for blowing up. Craig really isn't my type. But how would I know? I dated a gay guy. Shows how much luck I have. Right now, I don't have a crush. I'm strictly single and not interested. At least, I don't think so. My door gradually opens and my head turns attention to it. In comes Darlene with a smile on her face. After her, is a girl with somewhat dark skin. She had black braids that flowed down her back. She didn't look quite as happy but didn't look mad. I sit up.
"Hey, Ellie," Darlene whispers. Darlene reaches behind the girl and closes the door. The girl wears a gray sweatshirt that has pockets, which she hides her arms in. She has matching gray pants that fit tightly at the top and gain width at the bottom. Downwards, she wears white socks and some blue Nike slippers. She isn't big at all. She seems short and skinny. Her eyes are a chocolate brown and her lips are full. "Um, well, this is Jacqueline Williams. She was a recent patient here," Darlene explains. I nod. "We've asked her to talk with you, so I'll be back in about an hour. Or maybe even less, sound good?" Darlene says half-asking. We both nod. She nods too and silently walks out the door, shutting it behind her. Darlene walks closer examining the floor. I keep my eyes on her.
"So, you're Ellie Nash," she introduces me. I look at the floor too where she sweeps her feet across.
"Yeah," I say flatly. She sits on the bed.
"I was in here not too long ago. About three months ago," she starts- off. I lay my eyes on her, as hers stay stuck to the floor. "I was cutting. Pretty bad. I ended up in the hospital. After I passed out at my friends house," she explains.
"Sounds slightly familiar," I say. I look at her. "So who paid you?" I ask. She finally looks at me confused.
"No one paid me. They just asked if I wanted to talk with someone who went through something similar," she explains. I chuckle and shake my head.
"Look, I don't need some girl tell me everything is going to be fine. You don't know what I'm going through. You have no idea!" I say standing up. She stands up too.
"Are you calling me a liar?" she says firmly and a bit offended.
"No," I tell her. I open up the door so she can leave. "I don't need to remind you," I finish. Her lips purse and she sits back down on my bed and folds her arms.
"I'm not going to leave," she says stubbornly. I shut the door.
"Why do you all want to torture me so badly?" I ask bluntly. "I mean, can't you see I've been through enough?" I say walking up to her.
"What would you know," she says seeming awfully upset.
"Know about what?" I ask. She looks up at me with her glassy eyes and tense face.
"Why exactly did you start to cut, Ellie?" she asks. She really wants a conversation. This is one good actress. I don't know whether to believe her or ignore her. I fold my arms and sit back on the bed.
"Why would anyone cut?" I ask knowing the answer. "Stress," I simply say. Then she looks at me.
"I started because I was forced," she said, her braids covered her face as she stared at the floor. I looked at her strangely.
"Forced?" I ask confused. She nods.
"My mom. Sh-she was a lunatic. She would put me in the back room and lock it. I would be left with some water and a sheet with holes. I didn't have light or anything," she paused, "and she made me cut," she sobs. I still can't piece it together.
"I-I," I didn't know what to say. "She watched you?"
"She said that if I didn't cut I'd get beaten. I had a choice. Hurt myself or she would hurt me. So, there, in the dark, I'd find something sharp. Usually long rusted nails or pieces of broken glass mom would leave after starting a fight. I'd cut myself. I found that it helped and it did. After a while people got suspicious. I was never at school, never outside, and all my friends were deserted. Then one day my Grandma found out after she came back from Africa. She took me with her and my mom was taken to jail," she cries very little. I seem to have formed tears myself from hearing this story.
"So, you got better? You stopped cutting?" I ask interested. She shakes her head.
"It only got worse. I skipped school, I did drugs, I drank," she looks up at me. She was crying. Her tears make her face shiny and red. "And I cut," she whispers. I bite my lip. She starts weeping and I too start to cry. She finds her way into my arms and I feel awkward at first. Then I hold her as she holds me.
"I feel so stupid," I whisper. We both pull away and we wipe our tears.
"Why?" she asks sounding muffled.
"People have it so much worse. But it's not like I have the perfect life," I say sitting my hands between my legs.
"Does your mom h-hit you?" she dares to ask. My face sharply turns to hers.
"No," I lie. I turn back. "I mean, once," I admit.
"Once can turn into something huge, Ellie. You should get help now," she says in a firm yet worried voice. She places her hands on my arms. I jerk away.
"My mom is fine. She-she just, she just needs to learn control. She doesn't abuse me," I explain a little offended. "She just needs someone to help her. Guide her through," I say. Am I defending her?
"Ellie, you are not in any state to help anyone," she says.
"I can't just let her end up in here! Who will I stay with?" I say. This is all too much for me. I swallow. "You don't get it! I don't have anyone. I don't have a Grandma, I don't have someone," I yell. She stands up and so do I.
"Ellie, I don't have anyone either. My grandmother died, okay? You can't just stand here and do nothing! That won't get you anywhere! If you give up you'll end up like a nobody. Either you do something or you don't! Your call," she says mildly shouting. I shake at her words. As much as I hate to say, she's right, she is. If I do nothing that's what I'll end up as. Nothing. I blink my tears away. The door opens and Darlene pokes her head in. We both watch her.
"Oh, um, I heard yelling. Is everything okay?" she asks. I gradually look over at Jacqueline who stares at Darlene.
"Yeah," she says. "I was just leaving," she looks at me and I look back. Darlene nods and walks out. "Remember what I said, Ellie," she says starting to walk to the door. I just stare. "And try to find help for your mom before things get worse," she says a bit mad. I cringe at her words. She knows what it's like and she knows what's the best for an ordinary person with this kind of problem. But I'm not ordinary. I can't go back to mom's house. Everything will just be the same. I'll go somewhere anywhere but there. I go back over to my bed. I sit down. I look over at a piece of ripped paper Jacqueline must have left. I reach over and grab the small ripped paper. I smooth it out to read it. The words encourage me. I swallow. I look up at the door that Jacqueline left open. I stand up and peak my head out. I see Darlene walking down the halls and mysteriously, Jacqueline has vanished.
"Darlene," I call out. She looks back. "Before I leave," I pause and look at the little piece of paper one more time, "Could you make one last phone call?"
A/N: so what did the note say? Who is Darlene going to call? Okay. Hope u liked the chap. Kind of boring but sorry lol
Ellie has a passion Craig has a band Spinner has a secret, how will it all end?
Contains; Romance, Discussions about cutting
Pairings; Ellie?, Ashley Craig, Marco Dylan
Chapter Nine; Cries Of Two
+ - + - +
I'm scheduled to leave at 1:30pm and right now it's 10:25am. I haven't slept. I'm too anxious to leave. I need to get away from here. I lye on my bed and look up at the boring ceiling. There were no phone calls left from mom. Not really that surprised. I haven't written in the diary since that day, I think it's useless. Today I'm also put down for talking to that Jacqueline chick. What will she tell me that I already don't know? Don't cut, it's not good for you, it's dangerous, what the hell? I know this, it's just, addicting. I picture my mom or my hatred as I cut. It's like releasing my tears. Something that I should be doing instead of cutting. Darlene said her sister Vicky cut and she came here. Not like it helped. She committed suicide the next day. She didn't get into the details. I don't know about suicide. Something tells me it's wrong and something tells me it's a big decision. It's the end to your life, the end of everything. End to worries. Somewhat wrong somewhat right.
I can't get the thought of Ashley out of my head. Craig and me? Please. I'd like to date someone who can actually do their hair. She was just jealous that I got into the band. Although he did seem to come on a little strong at lunch. Maybe she does have a reason for being angry. But that is no excuse for blowing up. Craig really isn't my type. But how would I know? I dated a gay guy. Shows how much luck I have. Right now, I don't have a crush. I'm strictly single and not interested. At least, I don't think so. My door gradually opens and my head turns attention to it. In comes Darlene with a smile on her face. After her, is a girl with somewhat dark skin. She had black braids that flowed down her back. She didn't look quite as happy but didn't look mad. I sit up.
"Hey, Ellie," Darlene whispers. Darlene reaches behind the girl and closes the door. The girl wears a gray sweatshirt that has pockets, which she hides her arms in. She has matching gray pants that fit tightly at the top and gain width at the bottom. Downwards, she wears white socks and some blue Nike slippers. She isn't big at all. She seems short and skinny. Her eyes are a chocolate brown and her lips are full. "Um, well, this is Jacqueline Williams. She was a recent patient here," Darlene explains. I nod. "We've asked her to talk with you, so I'll be back in about an hour. Or maybe even less, sound good?" Darlene says half-asking. We both nod. She nods too and silently walks out the door, shutting it behind her. Darlene walks closer examining the floor. I keep my eyes on her.
"So, you're Ellie Nash," she introduces me. I look at the floor too where she sweeps her feet across.
"Yeah," I say flatly. She sits on the bed.
"I was in here not too long ago. About three months ago," she starts- off. I lay my eyes on her, as hers stay stuck to the floor. "I was cutting. Pretty bad. I ended up in the hospital. After I passed out at my friends house," she explains.
"Sounds slightly familiar," I say. I look at her. "So who paid you?" I ask. She finally looks at me confused.
"No one paid me. They just asked if I wanted to talk with someone who went through something similar," she explains. I chuckle and shake my head.
"Look, I don't need some girl tell me everything is going to be fine. You don't know what I'm going through. You have no idea!" I say standing up. She stands up too.
"Are you calling me a liar?" she says firmly and a bit offended.
"No," I tell her. I open up the door so she can leave. "I don't need to remind you," I finish. Her lips purse and she sits back down on my bed and folds her arms.
"I'm not going to leave," she says stubbornly. I shut the door.
"Why do you all want to torture me so badly?" I ask bluntly. "I mean, can't you see I've been through enough?" I say walking up to her.
"What would you know," she says seeming awfully upset.
"Know about what?" I ask. She looks up at me with her glassy eyes and tense face.
"Why exactly did you start to cut, Ellie?" she asks. She really wants a conversation. This is one good actress. I don't know whether to believe her or ignore her. I fold my arms and sit back on the bed.
"Why would anyone cut?" I ask knowing the answer. "Stress," I simply say. Then she looks at me.
"I started because I was forced," she said, her braids covered her face as she stared at the floor. I looked at her strangely.
"Forced?" I ask confused. She nods.
"My mom. Sh-she was a lunatic. She would put me in the back room and lock it. I would be left with some water and a sheet with holes. I didn't have light or anything," she paused, "and she made me cut," she sobs. I still can't piece it together.
"I-I," I didn't know what to say. "She watched you?"
"She said that if I didn't cut I'd get beaten. I had a choice. Hurt myself or she would hurt me. So, there, in the dark, I'd find something sharp. Usually long rusted nails or pieces of broken glass mom would leave after starting a fight. I'd cut myself. I found that it helped and it did. After a while people got suspicious. I was never at school, never outside, and all my friends were deserted. Then one day my Grandma found out after she came back from Africa. She took me with her and my mom was taken to jail," she cries very little. I seem to have formed tears myself from hearing this story.
"So, you got better? You stopped cutting?" I ask interested. She shakes her head.
"It only got worse. I skipped school, I did drugs, I drank," she looks up at me. She was crying. Her tears make her face shiny and red. "And I cut," she whispers. I bite my lip. She starts weeping and I too start to cry. She finds her way into my arms and I feel awkward at first. Then I hold her as she holds me.
"I feel so stupid," I whisper. We both pull away and we wipe our tears.
"Why?" she asks sounding muffled.
"People have it so much worse. But it's not like I have the perfect life," I say sitting my hands between my legs.
"Does your mom h-hit you?" she dares to ask. My face sharply turns to hers.
"No," I lie. I turn back. "I mean, once," I admit.
"Once can turn into something huge, Ellie. You should get help now," she says in a firm yet worried voice. She places her hands on my arms. I jerk away.
"My mom is fine. She-she just, she just needs to learn control. She doesn't abuse me," I explain a little offended. "She just needs someone to help her. Guide her through," I say. Am I defending her?
"Ellie, you are not in any state to help anyone," she says.
"I can't just let her end up in here! Who will I stay with?" I say. This is all too much for me. I swallow. "You don't get it! I don't have anyone. I don't have a Grandma, I don't have someone," I yell. She stands up and so do I.
"Ellie, I don't have anyone either. My grandmother died, okay? You can't just stand here and do nothing! That won't get you anywhere! If you give up you'll end up like a nobody. Either you do something or you don't! Your call," she says mildly shouting. I shake at her words. As much as I hate to say, she's right, she is. If I do nothing that's what I'll end up as. Nothing. I blink my tears away. The door opens and Darlene pokes her head in. We both watch her.
"Oh, um, I heard yelling. Is everything okay?" she asks. I gradually look over at Jacqueline who stares at Darlene.
"Yeah," she says. "I was just leaving," she looks at me and I look back. Darlene nods and walks out. "Remember what I said, Ellie," she says starting to walk to the door. I just stare. "And try to find help for your mom before things get worse," she says a bit mad. I cringe at her words. She knows what it's like and she knows what's the best for an ordinary person with this kind of problem. But I'm not ordinary. I can't go back to mom's house. Everything will just be the same. I'll go somewhere anywhere but there. I go back over to my bed. I sit down. I look over at a piece of ripped paper Jacqueline must have left. I reach over and grab the small ripped paper. I smooth it out to read it. The words encourage me. I swallow. I look up at the door that Jacqueline left open. I stand up and peak my head out. I see Darlene walking down the halls and mysteriously, Jacqueline has vanished.
"Darlene," I call out. She looks back. "Before I leave," I pause and look at the little piece of paper one more time, "Could you make one last phone call?"
A/N: so what did the note say? Who is Darlene going to call? Okay. Hope u liked the chap. Kind of boring but sorry lol