Rated: R for some violence, language, adult content, adult situations, sexual content, alcohol use, dark themes, etc.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of our favorite characters from Degrassi. I wish I did though.
A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed. I wasn't sure about this chapter but I somehow managed to finish it during study hall. Yeah, it took about 45 minutes to write it all out and then type it up at school and at home.
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Chapter III: Cut
(Ellie's POV)
I jumped. I can't believe I jumped during a stupid horror movie. Just something about them that creeps me out. I think my life can definitely be creepier than a weirdo running around killing people for revenge. But Friday the 13th was not my life.
But the scariest part?
I grabbed Craig's hand. And then took it back. A natural reaction? It was either his hand or the couch and his hand was somehow closer. But I felt so embarrassed. I don't know what for. I hate when I don't know why I feel the way I do. But enter the awkwardness. Craig was completely silent once I said I was sorry and ignored me. Good choice right? I didn't expect to do it. I really didn't.
After the movie was actually over, Marco and Craig both left to the kitchen. I let out the most held in sigh I ever had. It was a sigh of relief. I was actually breathing again. I leaned on the back of the couch and watched those countless infomercials on selling crock-pots and other useless junk.
I heard Marco laugh from the kitchen. Even a slight laugh from Craig. What were they talking about? Better not be about me. Great, now I'm getting all paranoid. I got a shiver from the room. I was wearing long sleeves and got cold. Strange.
See I'm freaking out over nothing. Just remember to breathe. Breathe, Ellie. Marco and Craig came back from the kitchen. I started snapping my rubber bands again.
"Miss us?" Marco laughed. He sat back down on the floor.
"Oh yeah." I just said it to humor him. Which he took lightly.
"And what about Craig?" I scoffed.
"What about Craig?" I asked back. Marco just gave me a look and sighed.
"Whatever, El." He restarted the movie since it was on pause. Some girl with blonde hair was about to get her ass killed. I just shook my head. Don't they know if you have sex, you die? Too late now. She's a goner. You could hear the girl screaming and poor Marco. He jumped and covered his eyes. Ha-ha, chicken. But a cute one right?
I smiled at Marco's reaction and reminded him that it's only a movie. But I glanced over at Craig. He looked uncomfortable. I bet because of me. I rolled my eyes and leaned on the arm of the couch. This movie was more interesting than wondering about my hand touching Craig's. I looked at the clock. It was like only 4:15. The movie was on for 45 minutes at least. I still had a long way to get through.
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I left early.
I lied to Marco's face and left.
There was some truth to my lie. I did have to get home soon before mom did. She freaks if I'm not there before she is. 'Probably so I can clean up after her.' I thought.
My walk home was cut short when I stood in front of my house. No lights were on, which meant mom wasn't there. Thank God. I used my key to get in and went right up to my room. On my bed was my guitar, which I tried to attempt playing again. Ever since Ash left, I've been "musically alone." She was my music partner and she considered her mine. But deep down, I knew it was Craig who was her real music partner. Nothing but lies.
There he is again. Still wrecking loose in my brain.
I set on my bed and picked up my guitar and strummed a couple of chords. And on nightstand was a pair of drumsticks. Yes guys, Ellie have been practicing the drums, too. Well trying to practice.
I sat there for 10 minutes before I heard the door slam.
Great.
That meant she was drunk as hell. But she I meant my mother. The one who was supposed to take care of me. The one who promised me that she would quit drinking. Only person I depended on was myself.
Mom, you promised me that you wouldn't. That you wouldn't drink anymore. It hurts so much. It really does and I hate the way it makes me feel. I tried not to have flashbacks of lying promises but I couldn't. It got suspiciously quiet downstairs. I didn't move and stopped strumming.
A glass broke.
I jumped and heard what sounded like crying. "Mom?" I whispered. I was frozen. Then I realized it was crying. I got up and left my room to downstairs. "Mom?" I asked again louder. I was creeping down the stairs like I was scared. And I was.
Once I got to the last stair, I saw a broken vodka bottle on the kitchen floor. Vodka was everywhere. And where was my mom? Passed out on the couch as usual. Her face was streaked with tears of disappointment, not pain. She didn't hurt herself. She was pissed off that she wasted a good and full liquor bottle. There was only one thing I could do. And that was clean up the mess she made.
I picked up the glass off the floor. "Ouch!" I accidentally cut my finger. And there it was. Tempting me to do it. 'No.' I kept telling myself. I threw the glass away before I did something wrong.
After mopping up all the vodka up, that was tempting too, I just stared at my mother's drunken self. She makes me sick. There was so much I wanted to say to her. Some much anger and sadness I was keeping inside. 'Don't freak, Ellie. Just breathe.' Reminding myself that wasn't working. I just turned away and went up the stairs to the bathroom.
The tears came back after I told myself to not cry.
In the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. I felt like my reflection was laughing at me. The whole world was laughing at me. I shivered and shook my head.
I couldn't stop the pain.
And I would regret what I was gonna do next.
I opened the cabinet and pulled out one of those makeup concealers with the mirror. I looked terrible when I saw myself again. My eyeliner was running. But I wasn't going to fix myself up again.
I took out the little powder and there it was under it.
A razor blade.
No more compasses with pointy ends. It was razor blades that affected me the most.
I leaned against the door and locked it. I sat down with my back to the wall and lifted up my sleeve. There were only two new marks visible on my arm. The old ones cleared up. More room to make new ones. The blade went in deep across my skin. And I started crying again. They were silent tears instead.
Why can't anyone save me? I want to be saved. But no one can hear me. Or see me. Life sucked.
That night, I didn't make one mark. I didn't make two.
I made three instead and I wasn't finished.
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A/N: Kinda dark themed right there with the whole cutter thing. I never was a cutter but I do understand her pain so it was natural to write it. Chapter IV, which is in Craig's POV will be updated soon. Any questions or suggestions, either put them in the review section, email me or even IM me at LCBears177. Ciao.