Part 10
(The next day)
"What were you doing with Layne last night?"
I looked up at my brother from the piano as he stared at me.
"Nothing. We were just talking," I said.
"You sure? Because from what I saw, you two seemed pretty deep in thought."
"We were just talking, Gaz. It wasn't anything serious, okay?" I replied calmly, trying to make the situation easier.
"If you were just talking, then why was he in your room with his head on your lap?"
"Gaz, come on..."
"Don't tell me to come on! You're too young to be around a Bohemian like Layne..."
"And you're too neurotic to be around a chick like Scaramouche!"
My brother's eyes widened and he began to stare at me silently in shock.
"Okay...that was a bit harsh," he muttered.
"It's harsh, but it is true. Layne's been the only person who actually listens to me more than anyone else...including you."
"Jimi, I know we haven't had time to do any counseling. But..."
"But nothing! I'm sick of being given the 'run-around', so to speak. And I'm sick of being avoided by another family member who used to care about me."
"Wait a minute! I care!"
My eyes started to water as I got angrier.
"Oh yeah, you care! You care more about that bitch than you do about the sibling you left behind when you were caught! The sibling who had to fend for herself and..."
I quickly ran past him and into the hall, letting more tears flow down my face as I finally stumbled into my room and continued to sob heavily without having a shoulder to cry on. I was feeling alone and confused again, which had become all too familiar for me again. I started to become numb when all of the crying had commenced, and attempted to find something sharp to scrape my skin on, but couldn't.
As I walked out into the hall, I stepped on something that felt like a tool. I bent down and noticed that it was some sort of knife that looked incredibly thin but sharp. I picked it off of the ground, stepped into my room and huddled in the corner where the knife made contact with one of the unhealed scars on my wrist.
---------------------------------------------------
(Hours later: Layne's POV)
I fiddled with the chained bracelet in my pocket as I walked down the halls after another long couple of hours of concert prep. I didn't know whether Jimi was into wearing jewelry or not, and didn't know if she would like the small trinket. Of the few short weeks that I've gotten to know her, I could see that we definitely clicked. We both had an interest for books and we were slowly starting to research the different groups of long ago and the origins of our musician names. It felt great to have someone to talk to, yet I always wished I could do more for her.
Jimi had mentioned that she wanted to remain close to her brother, Galileo, but didn't want to get in the way. I knew what that felt like...to be in dire need of some comfort. I never had any older brothers or sisters...let alone any family members who cared. That was the way of the world, I guess. You were either perfect or popular, or you were an outsider who had to be tormented every single day. We were all like that before we arrived, I guess.
As I started to approach the room, I heard a soft moan from inside, followed by a hint of a whimper. I peeked through the room and saw Jimi huddled in a corner with her wrists and palms covered in blood. I ran in and bent down in front of her face, which was flushed and covered with so many tears.
"I screwed up," Jimi muttered in half a sob, "I screwed up."
I lightly touched her arm as she tried to lift it up to her head. I didn't want to see her face covered in blood, too. I suddenly grabbed some of the sheets that were on the mattress and placed them around her hands, not wanting to see any more of it. It was starting to scare me, and I didn't want to make a scene by panicking and going completely insane. The only thing I could do was take her down to a washroom where Bob was and hopefully fix things there.
(To be continued...)
