I began East High as hollow as an oak tree stump. I needed to let the pain out. During the whole half year since mom died to ninth grade, I never cried once. I knew it was unhealthy for me, but I didn't care. Living in the stupid foster home was torture enough. Our new "mom" was stricter than our biological mom, and the father was drunk most of the time. Everything in the world just seemed to add on to the pain I felt. My mind wandered to the only solution available.
.:FLASHBACK:.
The night before the first day of East High, I knew that I couldn't face anybody feeling the way I did. I needed to reduce the hurt first. I knew that there could only be one way to do that. I walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Next, I glanced around the room and finally spotted what I've been looking for. (A/N: Pun intended!) I held it in my hand and looked at it for a minute.
The shiny silver blade ought to do the trick. I took a deep breath and slid the blade down my left wrist about an inch long. Blood poured out of it almost as fast as water would if you punctured a water bottle with a knife. I felt…confused. So I once again took the blade and made an equally long cut parallel to the first. Why doesn't it hurt?
Outside, I heard a car pulling up into the driveway. Oh. Our "parents" were home. I stood up and rinsed the blade off, and wrapped my wrist in a cloth. Taking a last glance over the room, making sure there wasn't blood or evidence left over, I decided I was satisfied, and I waltzed out of the bathroom like nothing happened at all.
.:END OF FLASHBACK:.
My relationship with Troy ended as quickly as it came. At school, I had walked up to him, and bluntly told him we couldn't be together anymore. But it HURT. I was lying to Troy, but most of all, I was lying to myself. I knew that I still loved Troy. Yes, he tried to stop me, but I just kept on walking. I went into the girls' bathroom. That was the only place he couldn't find me. A couple of weeks of silence went by.
Ryan was concerned. Well, duh, because he's my friggin' twin brother. A few times he had come up to me and begged me, yes, actually BEGGED me to talk to him, to tell him what was wrong. I had gotten pissed off because he KNEW what was wrong with me! I felt like shouting at his face, saying, "GOD, RYAN! HOW CAN YOU BE SO DAMN DENSE? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME, HUH? OUR MOM DIED AND OUR DAD IS IN PRISON FOR KILLING HER! I HAVE NO LIFE ANYMORE, DAMMIT! NOW THE QUESTION IS, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE THIS?" But I never did.
Everyone at East High knew I would have an emotional breakdown one of these days. "She'll break down any day now," They would say. Or they'd say, "She can't keep her emotions bottled up like that forever. Its unhealthy. Even the strongest walls keel over someday in the future." At the time, I didn't care. I NEEDED the pain.
But they were right, in the end. I, Sharpay Evans, would have that…emotional breakdown. Who knew it would feel like I was the most hated creature in the world?
I had to cut that chapter a bit shorter because I'm working on the other half. Oh okay fine, it's because I don't kno what else to say. I suck at describing stuff! Anyhoo, in the next chapter, somebody is gonna be there when Sharpay falls apart. Who is it going to be?
