Alright y'all. Here it is. Thank you for sticking with it. I hope you like it. I love hearing from you, even if it is to tell me you don't like it. I'm open to suggestions or ideas or just general input. I'd actually love some input. Thanks!

Chapter 7

RPOV

She's annoyed. Very annoyed. She was really looking forward to her night alone. Not that every night isn't spent alone. She just had very specific plans for this night. Now she's stuck here waiting for this movie to get over so that she can find a way to get Brittany the hell out of her house. All she wanted to do was take a nice long bath, raid the liquor that her fathers had left behind, and make a few nice cuts. She probably shouldn't do those last two but she's past the point of caring and she's got all weekend to recover. She needs that fucking release and she needs it now. All she can think about is the way that exacto knife will feel on the inside of her wrists…or maybe her stomach…or her legs. She hasn't decided on the exact location but she cannot wait for the feelings to be numbed out by the release she gets with focusing on a fresh new cut…

"Rachy? Are you okay? You're staring off into space?" She's broken out of her thoughts by Brittany. She'd actually started to forget that she was here.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be fine? I was just lost in thought." She really hopes that Brittany doesn't push.

"Okay. If you're sure." Brittany doesn't look convinced at all. God damnit.

She sees that there's about twenty minutes left of the movie and she's never been so thankful to have found an out. "I'm sure. I'm sorry Brittany but I'm starting to get really tired so would it be alright if you left after this is over?"

Brittany pouts and Rachel immediately feels guilty but then the blonde gets this look in her eye that makes the brunette very worried.

"We could totally have a sleep over! I could call Sanny and Q and we could hang out." Brittany gets so excited that she squeals and pulls her into a hug. Which she instantly pulls away from and tries her best not to flinch. The cuts on her stomach aren't healed all the way yet and that shit hurts.

"I'm sorry Brittany but I cannot allow that. As you've probably noticed, my fathers' aren't home and I'm not allowed to have overnight visitors. Maybe some other time when they're around." Like that'll happen, she thinks, they haven't lived here in over a year. Brittany doesn't need to know that though, so she tries her best to smile and gets up in hopes of hurrying the blonde towards the door.

SASASASASASASASA

As soon as Brittany leaves Rachel grabs a bottle of whiskey out of the liquor cabinet, her favorite exacto knife, and heads towards her bathroom. She's never been so relieved in her life for someone to get the hell out of her house, especially someone who's so suddenly persistent. She wonders how she can avoid the blond on Monday and if she'll have to avoid the blonds two best friends as well. Rachel knows that she's done a pretty good job of avoiding people the last couple months and she's sure she can keep it up.

Finally making her way into the bathroom she begins filling the tub while taking sips of her whiskey. The taste takes some getting used to and she still shivers from it sometimes but it's better than it used to be.

Once the tub is full she quickly peels off her clothes and sinks into the warm water. There's something about water that calms her. She loves it. Drinking it when she's upset or taking a dip in her pool for some exercise or just looking at it while she thinks. It's therapeutic for her. Although, not as therapeutic for her as her knife.

Thinking of…she gets out of the tub, grabs a fluffy towel, and dries off. She grabs the knife while quickly checking to make sure she has the things she needs to clean up the mess afterwards. It is a ritual after all, and she would hate to deviate from her system.

As soon as she's dry she puts on underwear and her sports bra before finding her way back to bathroom. She grabs her best friend and starts her ritual. She decides that she's going to cut on her thighs tonight. She secretly hopes that if he ever comes back for her he'll see the scars on her thighs and leave her alone. He'll know from those alone that he's already broken her and will hopefully leave her alone.

She takes a big gulp of her whiskey, picks a spot on her right thigh, and slowly pushes down into her skin. It looks like nothing happens at first but as she goes she sees the blood start to bubble up. She loves it. It proves that yes, she is, in fact, human. That she is alive.

Her second cut is deeper. Quicker to bleed…it's actually bleeding more than usual. Oops guess that one got a little out of control. She welcomes the blood though.

She sits there and watches the blood for a couple minutes, completely mesmerized by her life force just escaping from her body. She wishes that she could escape from her body. Escape from her life. Escape from "manhands", "rupaul", "tranny", "slut." Escape from it all just as the blood escapes from her body. Perhaps that is the point she's been missing. She needs to just end it. She needs to prepare though so it can't be tonight. The thought makes her feel relieved. Like a weight has been lifted from her chest and she can breathe a little easier now the decision's been made.

Sighing she starts to clean herself up. First wiping off the blade and placing the cap back on the knife. Second she grabs a black towel to hold to her cuts to get the bleeding to stop. Once the bleeding is mostly done the brunette washes the cut off before drying it. She finishes things off by placing a bandage to put on the cut for the night. She'll take that off in the morning. She likes how her clothes will rub against her cuts and irritate them when she's somewhere that she can't do her ritual.

While thinking of how she wants to end this miserable existence she gets dressed in her PJ's and starts to head toward bed. She's exhausted from pretending all day. She knows she's been training all her life to be an actress, which is essentially pretending, but she never realized how fucking tiring it is. She lets these thoughts float through her head as she drifts off to sleep, knowing that tomorrow she's going to start planning her own death. The thought comforts her.