A/N: This chapter contains the song "Missing" by Evanescence. I don't own it.

'I don't care.'

'I don't care.'

'I don't care.'

'I don't care.'

It had become my mantra. Constantly, I would repeat it to myself. I repeated it every time I fell asleep, and woke up to find that nothing had improved. I repeated it every time I saw her kiss Spinner in the halls. I repeated it every time I heard Ashley squeal about how not even a skank like her could take away Craig. And I repeated it when she would pass, almost look at me, and decisively look away. It was as if she almost wanted to say something to me, but decided against it in the last few seconds. I would see her talk flirtatiously with just about every kind of person, and I wanted to scream at them to wake up. I repeated it as I saw her whispering a compliment to Darcy, who had no idea what was behind Manny's constant need to remind her how nice she looked.

'I don't care.'

Perhaps the scars that ran up and down my arms weren't quite evidence, but any evidence that steered away from the idea that I hated Manny needed to be destroyed. Every night, I would lock myself in my bathroom, turn on the shower, and sink the razor into my skin. I couldn't feel anything, but I still felt some sort of connection with it. I would lash out at myself for a few minutes at a time, and my mind would blank until it was over. But once I set the razor down, and rinsed off the blood, everything would fall back into place within seconds. It was a poor attempt at an escape, but I was willing to take any comfort I could get.

I put on my pajamas, and took my routine trip downstairs just to make sure my mother had eaten. If she were asleep, I would bring her a blanket, or set something out on the counter, in case she woke up. A twinge of guilt flowed through my body, as I began to hope that she was asleep. Not that I liked seeing her wasted, but she was becoming more and more difficult to deal with. And every time she got drunk, the situation worsened.

"You were home awfully late today," she griped.

She was sitting on the couch, ignoring a soap opera as she ate leftover Chinese takeout.

"Yeah…I'm sorry," I said hesitantly. "I had to stay after school to finish a project for Media Immersion."

She nodded. "Oh, well. I understand. The last thing you'd want to do would be to call your mother, to actually let her know what's going on in your life." She set her food down on the coffee table, and turned to face me. "An entire week goes by, and I don't see you! You go wherever you want whenever you want, and I don't even get so much as a 'hello.' I'm beginning to wonder if I'm the only one who lives here."

A burning sensation nagged at my eyes, and my body began to shake lividly. I clenched my hands together, and looked away from her, to avoid falling into uncontrollable rage. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mom. I was under the false impression that you spend half your time wasted, and half your time in a drunken rage. And I'm sorry you feel like you're the only one who lives here. But if you keep this up, you will be."

I knew I was asking for it, but I didn't care. Her eyes were like ice as she stood up, and approached me. "You don't talk to me like that, Eleanor. I'm working damn hard to keep stable, and you know it!"

"Yeah?" I asked. "Well, so I am I."

I pulled up my sleeve, and revealed my scars. She could send me to a mental institute. She could get angry. Maybe I'd get taken away from her. But it wasn't like she would remember any of this by tomorrow.

Her face softened, followed by an expression of exemplified horror. "Ellie?" she shrieked, bringing her hands up to her face. "Oh, baby, no! No! Baby…"

I walked over to the couch and picked up an empty beer bottle. "Now you know how I feel when I come home, everyday, to see you doing this. We can't keep living like this. You drinking. Me cutting. Dad wouldn't want it. And I don't want it either."

My mother was back on the couch, overcome with tears. Before she could say another word, her body went limp, her eyes closed, and she collapsed onto the couch.

I felt my feet move, under me, but I had no idea where I was going. My body dragged itself into my bathroom, where I made a large cut into my wrist. I hardly knew what I was doing, just that I was going away. Someplace I would never have to hear my mother's yell again. Where the only person who cared about me wouldn't be a slut who was only nice to me because she wanted to get into my pants. Maybe I'd miss Marco. And Dad. But it wasn't as if they were there to begin with.

Please, please, forgive me

But I won't be home again

It almost became entertaining, sitting on my bathroom floor, pulling the razor up and down my arm. For the first time in my life, I couldn't feel anything the razor did. I was completely numb, and it was somehow hilarious. I was suddenly laughing uncontrollably, and the inappropriateness of the situation made it even funnier.

Pictures flowed through my mind, of my mother finding me here, a month later. She would yell at me, for leaving blood on the floor. Then she'd fall asleep and forget I was even dead.

Maybe someday you'll look up

And barely conscious, you'll say to no one

Isn't something missing?

I thought about Manny, wearing a dark blue, shimmering prom dress, and walking alongside Spinner. No. The dress would be short and sexy, a deep red color. He would buy her flowers, rent a tux, meet her parents, and find a way to rent a nice hotel room…

He would do everything I couldn't. And there was no chance that, for even a second, while she shared her life with Spinner, and other beings with Y-chromosomes, she would ever think about me. I would never be good enough to tell her friends about. I would never be good enough to keep for more than a night when homework started to lose its appeal. I was nothing.

You won't cry for my absence, I know

You forgot me long ago

Am I that unimportant?

Am I so insignificant?

As the blood continued to flow, I started to feel as if I were falling asleep, and watching a movie. Marco was standing in front of a house I had never seen before. Only it wasn't the Marco I knew. He was older, probably in his mid thirties, and was holding hands with Dylan. They shared a kiss, and the scene was replaced with Ashley, crying into a pillow. She was defiantly older, but not as old as Marco had been.

"You were the one to propose!" Ashley protested angrily, throwing herself onto the couch.

"I want my youth back," Craig said angrily.

Before I had time to take in what they were saying, they disappeared, and Manny was standing beside a man I had never seen, at the wedding altar. The church was suddenly redecorated, and a coffin was carried in through the back.

Isn't something missing

Isn't someone missing me?

A crowd of people who never noticed me, alive, crowded around the coffin, in tears. "I didn't know she'd take it this far," Paige told Ashley. "I would've done something. I mean…more than just leaving it up to Ms. Suave."

"It's not your fault, Paige," Ashley told her, putting her arms around her friend.

My eyes slowly began to open, and a sharp, raw pain filled my body. I was dying. Bleeding to death. I had no idea how long it would take, or how much longer I would have to hurt. But, surprisingly, I didn't care.

Even though I'm the sacrifice

My mind searched for a comforting image. Consciously, I was too weak to need anyone, but when I was in between life and death, the layers of my consciousness weren't quite separated.

"Mommy," I said, clutching a teddy bear. "I don't feel good."

She was younger then, and sober. She reached out a hand, to touch my forehead. "Ellie, you're forehead is burning. I'm goanna go make you some tea. You just get into bed, and I'll be right there."

I was lying on the sidewalk, hysterical with tears, as Daddy pulled the bicycle off my limp body. I continued to cry as he helped me up, and led me inside. "Oh, boy," he winced. "That's a nasty scrape. We'll have to clean it up so it won't get infected. You sit down here, and wait. I'll be right there."

You won't try for me, not now

"I didn't do it to hurt you, you know," Paige said reluctantly. "I'm worried about you."

I nodded. "I know. I just really don't want to talk about it."

"Maybe I am a slut," Manny whispered, running her fingers through my hair. "And maybe you're a cutter. But who else is going to listen to either of us? That's why we should be together. We're so imperfect, we're almost perfect."

My eyes slowly opened, once again, and no one was there. I was still sitting here, on cold tile, waiting for my life force to run out.

Though I'd die to know you love me

I'm all alone

Isn't someone missing me?

"You can't die, Ellie," a voice whispered. "You can't die."

Tears sprang from my eyes, and I fought, with every ounce of strength remaining in me, to lift my arm far enough to open the cabinet, and search for a bandage.

Fuck.

Having no other ideas, I pulled my towel off its rack, and began trying to tear it with my razor. The material was touch, and didn't easily give. Eventually, I somehow managed to make enough holes to tear the towel apart, and wrap its pieces around my wrists. I pushed my wrists together, trying to apply pressure to the wounds.

"Goodbye, Ellie Nash."

A sudden wave of dizziness passed through me, and I fell asleep on the bathroom floor.

Waking up was one of the most disturbing experiences of my life. For one, I had blood smeared on my body and clothes. My arms were wrapped in towels, to keep me from bleeding to death. Worst of all, I had no idea how long I had been lying there, or how much longer I would stay. It was supposed to be over, but instead I was lying on my bathroom floor, covered in blood.

Without removing my clothes, I crawled into the shower and turned the water on, much hotter than I liked it. I was still seated, almost afraid of what might happen if I tried to stand. In disgust, I peeled the wet, filthy clothing off my body, being careful to maneuver my shirt around the towel bandages. After all that had happened, why was I alive?

I decided to test my strength, and slowly pull myself up, to stand. The water continued to beat on my reddening skin as I stood. None of this made sense. How was I able to stand after nearly dying the previous night?

Curiously, I looked at my bandages to find that the blood had not come through to the other side. Upon unwrapping them, I found two; average sized cuts, deep enough to hurt, but not enough to be fatal. I had basically scratched myself, and my mind had exaggerated it into a suicide attempt.

Angrily, I tossed the bandages on the bathroom floor, and turned up the "hot" dial on the faucet. After failing at everything…from keeping my family together, to staying stable, to being everything I wanted to be, to having a normal relationship, I couldn't even kill myself properly.

Please, please forgive me

But I won't be home again

This was what it had come to. My body was covered with scars that might be with me for the rest of my life. And, considering my luck, it was likely to drag on for a long time.

Feeling too defeated to think; I opened my mouth to scream. I shivered, as if I were crying, but no tears came out. I was standing there, screaming without making a sound, and crying dry tears. These tiny, shallow cuts wouldn't have even pricked me a few weeks ago. Now, suddenly, they were the end of the world.

I know what you do to yourself

I breathe deep and cry out

Isn't something missing?

Isn't someone missing me?

"Eleanor!" a voice shouted from the bottom of the stairs. "Are you dressed?"

I winced at the unknowing cruelty of the situation. Sorry, Mom. My clothes are covered in blood. It's because…oh, did I mention I'm a cutter? Maybe I did…but I doubt you remember considering you got wasted off your ass last night.

"I…" I hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I'm coming."

Throwing a towel over my naked, torn skin, I opened the door just far enough to make sure the coast was clear. Even in the towel, my mother would still see the scars she had probably forgotten existed.

Why did you think she'd help you? I wondered, as I entered my room in search of a clean set of clothes. To think I honestly believed that telling my mother I was cutting would make everything okay. That she would call someone who could help me recover. Despite myself, I laughed.

Even though I'm the sacrifice You won't try for me, not now

"Shit," I whispered angrily, searching my closet for a pair of pants. None of my pleated skirts from last year would cover the scars on my legs. Feeling desperate, I pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a big blue sweater I only wore during family visits that involved my grandmother. People could say what they wanted. They didn't affect me anymore.

Though I'd die to know you love me

I'm all alone

Isn't someone missing me?

"Bye Mom," I whispered, as I began to walk out the door.

I wasn't quite sure if she heard me, but I didn't really care.

Ashley confronted me at my locker, with a questioning look on her face. "What happened to you yesterday?" she demanded.

My muscles tensed as I pulled my Algebra book out of my locker.

"Don't bother, Ellie. You don't have Algebra today. That was yesterday," she said sharply.

"O-kay, I forgot," I said defensively. "Call the police."

Ashley crossed her arms, and ignored the statement. "Where were you last night? We all tried to call you about six times each."

"I'm sorry for being out," I said angrily, replacing my Algebra book with my English text. "I didn't realize it offended you."

"You weren't out, Ellie," Ashley said. "I don't know what's going on with you lately, but it's starting to bother me. You don't do your homework, you don't come to school…you don't talk to any of your friends, and for the past month I think the only person I've seen you talk to more than once is Manny."

My heart stopped, and the tension between Ashley and me was thick enough to cut with a knife. "What are you saying?" I demanded.

"I'm saying that something's going on. And, as your best friend, I think I should know what it is," Ashley said angrily.

I slammed my locker door shut, and stared into her eyes. "What if I have been hanging out with Manny? That would be an awful thing to do to my best friend, wouldn't it? Since she didn't forget I existed as soon as Paige was willing to take her back, then come crying to me when Craig dumped her, only to blow me off again as soon as he got over Manny and she didn't have anything to cry to me about."

Ashley stared at me, incredulously, for a few moments before speaking. "That's a horrible thing to say, Ellie. I was your friend when…"

"No one else would be?" I guessed. "That's funny. I was kind of under the impression that you became my friend because you let Paige talk you into trying X and your friends didn't like you anymore. At least I don't change my friends with my wardrobe, and become a different person whenever it's convenient for me."

Ashley gave me a once over. "Your outfit would beg to differ."

"That's what's important, isn't it?" I asked her. "I'm wearing blue, so that discredits everything I say."

I started to walk away. "Ellie, that's not what I said."

It didn't matter. I was done listening.

The thought of English class still bared an uncomfortable weight in my mind. I made up my mind to skip, but came to regret it as soon as the bell rang, and I found myself wandering the halls alone. As it stood, Manny had no use for me, I had basically lost Ashley as a friend, and my mother continued to lay motionless on the couch, too wasted to remember that her own daughter was tearing herself apart. Sitting on the ground, beside the vending machines, I started to think about what Marco had said. If I couldn't die, I might as well try to fix whatever was left of myself.

And if I bleed I'll bleed Knowing you don't care

I stared at the wall for about an hour before I heard another human voice. It was almost relaxing, avoiding people at all costs, and, with each bell, finding a new place to hide. It was much more bearable than going to my classes. Fourth block, I moved my hiding place to the bathroom, where I figured I would have little company. Unfortunately, I had been so content just to stand still, and wallow my numbing agony, that I forgot about lunch.

"Funny to see you here," a girl's voice said. "Isn't this where all the problems started?"

I sighed deeply, wishing I had succeeded in my suicide attempt. "What the Hell do you want, Manny?" I demanded.

"It's a bathroom, Ellie," she said, standing in front of the mirror and pulling her dark hair back into a scrunchi. "I have a right to be here. But I'd get out if I were you. I think this one's reserved for girls."

"You're the one who kissed me," I said softly. "Don't forget that."

I stepped out of the bathroom, wondering how I could ever have found her attractive. Moreover, I wondered how a part of me still did.

And if I sleep just to dream of you, I'll wake without you there Isn't something missing

Isn't someone missing me?

Gritting my teeth, I pulled my phone out of my purse and called Marco. "Hey, Ellie," he said, obviously recognizing his caller ID. "Why are you calling me? It's lunchtime, you could just come talk to me in person if you wanted."

"It's about that LGBTQ thing. Count me in," I said definitely. "No matter how cruelly I beg to cancel. Count me in."

"I'm glad, Ellie," Marco said. "I think it'd do you some good."

"I'll be at your house around six," I told him. "If that's okay."

"Sounds great," Marco said. "You know…no matter what happens, it'll be okay. Trust me."

I smiled ironically. How was it that he could say exactly the right things, without me being immediately reassured? From my previous failures, it was becoming harder for me to trust people, no matter how sincere they seemed. I supposed if I was that wary of other people, the only person left to trust was myself.

Even though I'm the sacrifice You won't try for me, not now

Though I'd die to know you love me

As I started to walk toward the cafeteria, I could feel my jeans rub against my freshly made scars.

Great plan, Ellie, I thought. If I were the last person I could trust…it was doubtful that anything would go right again. But perhaps it didn't need to be right…just as close as I could get.

I'm all alone

Isn't something missing

Isn't someone missing me?