Monday morning, Chrissy got herself ready for school. She pulled a large sweater on over her T-shirt and immediately felt hot. She knew it was going to be 80 degrees outside today but she had given herself no choice. She couldn't wear a T-shirt in public; her new scars would be seen. She couldn't let that happen.

Chrissy grabbed her backpack and headed out the front door without saying goodbye to Michelle. She didn't want Michelle to see her in a sweater, because she might get suspicious. Michelle hadn't noticed the change of clothing the night before but Chrissy had been so wrapped up in her own emotions, she hadn't even noticed that Michelle hadn't noticed.

Chrissy walked slowly to school, kicking a stone along the way. She had so many thoughts racing through her head. She couldn't even begin to imagine what would happen if her mother was able to get custody back. What if she hasn't changed? I can't go back to the way things were; I'll end up killing myself or something. I can't live with my mother; I love Michelle. I don't want to leave her. She felt tears stinging her eyes but she kept them back. She thought about the scars she had placed on her wrists the day before. There was a part of her that felt guilty for not going to Michelle and telling her that she had wanted to cut herself. She had broken a promise to the most important person in her life and it broke her heart to think about, but it had been so impulsive. The pain had been too strong to think about anything else but cutting.

As Chrissy walked to school, she felt as though she were sentenced to a life of misery and pain. It seemed as though good things were never meant to happen to her. She had finally felt free from her mother when she had been arrested and charged and put into rehabilitation. Chrissy thought she would never have to deal with her mother again, but she had been wrong. Now she was facing the possibility of going back. As Chrissy thought more and more about the custody hearing, the urge to cut herself was strong again and she felt sick to her stomach, wishing she had brought her razor blade to school with her instead of hiding it under her mattress at home.

"Hey Chrissy, you okay?" Chrissy looked up startled and saw her best friend Brandi standing in front of her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't see you there." Chrissy replied, not even realizing she had arrived at school. She hadn't been paying much attention during her walk.

"No problem." Brandi stared at Chrissy's large blue sweater. "You do know how hot it's supposed to be today, don't you?" Chrissy shrugged.

"I don't care, I just felt like wearing this." She said. Brandi knew better than to believe her friend. When they had spent time together in the group home, the two girls had realized they had a lot in common. Brandi was also a cutter and knew all about large, baggy sweaters and the excuses that came along with it. Brandi took Chrissy's arm and led her away from the crowd of students entering the school.

"You're not cutting yourself again, are you?" She asked in a low whisper. Chrissy bit her lip and stared hard at her friend.

"What if I am?" She asked in a rude tone. Brandi shook her head.

"You haven't cut yourself in a year! Why would you start again? You know first hand how hard it is to stop after you've started. Why would you want to go back to the hell that comes along with being a cutter?" She asked with raised eyebrows. Chrissy wanted to yell at her, but her best friend was right. Quitting was a very difficult thing to do, and Chrissy only managed to get through a year without cutting with the help of Michelle. Now she felt alone in the world; she felt like she was going to lose Michelle; she felt like nothing else mattered anymore.

"Look Brandi, it's my problem okay? I don't want to talk about it. Just don't tell anybody, especially the counselor at the group home and especially not Michelle." Chrissy said quietly as she began to walk away. Brandi stopped her.

"Chrissy, please think about this. I think it's amazing how you were able to stop; I'm still working toward that goal; I'm sure you don't want to go back to that lifestyle, especially knowing firsthand how scary it can be." She said desperately, staring at her best friend with pleading eyes. Chrissy stared at her friend and felt too angry and hurt to say anything meaningful.

"It's a little late now." Chrissy turned and walked into the school, leaving her best friend behind.


Lunchtime arrived and Chrissy found she was not hungry. She avoided Brandi all day, not wanting to deal with the fact that her best friend knew what was going on. So instead of meeting Brandi in the cafeteria like she always had, Chrissy snuck into the girl's bathroom and hid herself in one of the stalls. She lifted her hand up and noticed it was shaking. She felt lightheaded and wished so desperately she had her razor blade with her. She knew that would make her feel better. She couldn't explain how, but she knew it would.

She dropped her backpack on the floor of the bathroom and emptied it of its contents, searching for anything with a sharp edge. Come on, there's gotta be something. I can't wait another three hours. I need something now! She thought desperately as she scanned through her belongings. Just when she thought it was hopeless, she came across her math compass. She held it in her hand and stared at the sharp edges, breathing a deep sigh of relief. Chrissy quickly put the remaining items back in her bag and lifted up her sleeve, feeling better already.


Chrissy managed to get through the rest of the day avoiding Brandi and she stepped out of the school, feeling the hot sun beating down on her. She sighed, wishing she were wearing a T-shirt like the rest of the students, but she had sentenced herself to this grueling heat when she had placed the razor blade against her skin.

She began to walk home, head hung low, thinking about everything that had happened to her in the last few days. She had been so happy when Monica had showed up, happy to see an old friend who had helped her through so much, but now it all made sense to Chrissy. Monica told me last year she would be back when I needed her the most. Well, I haven't seen her since Sandra called so that's a lot of help. Chrissy thought bitterly as she approached her house slowly, scuffling her feet as she stepped up the front steps.

"Hello Chrissy." An Irish accent greeted. Chrissy looked up and saw Monica standing next to the door, smiling a little. Chrissy stared at the angel and sighed.

"You knew about this, didn't you? You told me when you first got here you didn't know why you were here, but you did didn't you?" Chrissy asked angrily. Monica shook her head calmly.

"No little one, I didn't know. Angels don't always know everything; just like I don't know what's going to happen next, but I do know that God will be with you every step of the way; and I'll be here too." She explained quietly. Chrissy shook her head.

"Why would God bring me here to such a wonderful place only to be taken from it?" She asked with bitter tears in her eyes.

"You don't know you'll be taken away yet, love. You still have to go to a hearing. You have to have hope that God will help you. All you have to do is ask." Monica said, knowing this truth from experience. Chrissy sighed and looked down. She didn't say anything for a long time, until she finally sank down and sat on her front steps. Monica hesitated, but then joined her, kneeling down on the porch.

"I'm sorry if I sounded angry, I just don't know what to do with myself." Chrissy apologized quietly, pinching her sweater sleeves tightly between her fingers. Monica took notice.

"It's quite a hot day today." She pointed out. Chrissy shrugged.

"I hadn't really noticed." She lied, wanting so badly to retire to her bedroom where she could take off this heavy sweater.

"Chrissy why are you wearing a sweater on such a warm day?" Monica asked, coming right out with it. Chrissy looked up immediately into the eyes of the angel who had been there during the most difficult time in Chrissy's life last year. Chrissy didn't know how to answer Monica's question, especially knowing she was an angel, but she answered it in the same way she always answered that question.

"I think I'm getting sick actually. I've been freezing since I woke up this morning." She answered quietly, her voice shaking a little, not sure if she would buy it. Monica only smiled sympathetically.

"Little one, you might be surprised to learn you cannot lie to an angel." She said with a wink. Chrissy stared at her for a moment, not knowing how to react. She knew Monica already knew her secret; she had discovered it a year ago when she had been put on assignment in Chrissy's house. Chrissy knew before she even answered Monica's question that Monica would know the truth. She was an angel from God; God was truth and Chrissy knew all along Monica would know the truth.

Chrissy felt a tear roll down her cheek and that was when she lost it. She buried her face in her hands, crying softly, trying to hide her tears from the angel in front of her. Monica came closer and took the young girl's hands in her own, pulling them away from her face so she could look into Chrissy's eyes.

"Why? Why did you do it?" She asked quietly, her face as caring and sympathetic as Chrissy had remembered. Chrissy sniffled and looked up at Monica with a tear-streaked face.

"I-I don't know." She answered honestly, feeling ashamed and unworthy to being the presence of one of God's angels when she had done something so wrong.

"Why didn't you tell Michelle? I thought you told me you had an agreement with her to go to her if you felt like you were going to cut yourself." Monica pointed out, still holding Chrissy's hands in her own. Chrissy looked away angrily.

"Why should I bother with that stupid promise? It's not like I get to stay here; I'm going to lose her, Monica. I'm never going to see her again, so why keep any promises?" She asked bitterly. She continued to cry anger tears and before Monica could say anything more to comfort the crying girl, Michelle opened the front door and came out, staring down at Chrissy, who quickly dried her tears.

"Chrissy, I was starting to get worried. You're a little late." She paused as she noticed Chrissy's sniffles. She knelt down as Chrissy turned her face away. "Have you been crying sweetie?" Chrissy stood up and turned to walk into the house.

"No, I'm fine; I just want to be alone." She walked into the house, running straight to her room. Michelle sighed as she watched her storm off. Monica stared at Michelle and offered a smile.

"You're doing everything you can do. You're loving her and you're being strong for her." Monica said reassuringly. Michelle rolled her eyes a little as tears were forming in her eyes.

"You know Monica, I don't feel strong. I'm trying so hard to be there for her, but this is killing me. I may lose her. We've become a family and now they want to take her away from me." Michelle sat down on the porch next to Monica and held her head in her hands, taking a deep breath. Monica put a hand on Michelle's shoulder, a touch that was so gentle and calm.

"You don't know what's going to happen, Michelle. Only God knows that." She said and Michelle nodded.

"I know, but Monica, Jessica was abusive to Chrissy. I know she claims she's changed her ways, but I have a bad feeling about it. I want Chrissy to be safe and selfishly, I want that to be with me." She admitted and Monica nodded, understanding perfectly.

"That's not selfish, Michelle. You love that little girl as though she were your own, a feeling Chrissy has never had before. Before you came into her life, Chrissy didn't even know what love was, but you changed that for her." Monica said with a quiet, reassuring voice that calmed Michelle, and even made her smile.

"It's strange; I feel comfortable talking to you, and I barely even know you." She pointed out as she stared at Monica's deep brown eyes that seemed to carry so much wisdom and insight. Monica smiled.

"You'd be surprised at how much easier it can be to talk to a complete stranger than it is to tell your loved ones that you're hurting."


Chrissy observed her arm, now covered in fresh cuts, as she held a white cloth firmly in place to stop the bleeding. She had pulled out her razor blade when she first entered her room, wasting no time. She was brainwashed by the captivating feeling of release, and the sight of the blood on her arm, something real, something she could trust. She had forgotten about all the hard work it took to make it a whole year without cutting, she had forgotten about the promise she had made to Michelle, she had forgotten everything. The only thing she could dwell on was the pain, and the fear that she would be taken from the one person who understood and loved her.