It'd been about fifteen minutes and Edwin was sitting under his lamp light, legs crossed, left arm bared. He was holding the knife above his arm, fear coursing through his body. His mouth tasted vile, but he couldn't move. The fear gripped him like a vice. 'This is wrong,' he kept telling himself, but his hand wouldn't listen. His body shook, as if he had hypothermia.

Soon, too soon, the blade of the knife rested gently on the place SoccerGirlAbused had prescribed. Lightly he pushed and then he push-

He didn't. "Dinner!" George yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

Edwin swallowed but didn't move. "J-just a minute," he stuttered, the words tripping over his tongue on the way out. He let go of the knife and it clattered to the ground. Edwin stared at his arm, at the dent the blade of the knife had made.

There was no blood, just a red dent. If Edwin had only pushed a little harder, or George had been five seconds later in calling, Edwin would have drawn blood on his first time.

Throwing a blanket over the knife, Edwin pulled down his sleeves and made his way downstairs and to the table where George, Marti and Derek were already eating. He quietly took his seat and quickly ate a small amount of dinner before disappearing back upstairs.

He didn't bother moving the knife, or the blanket on top of it. Instead he threw himself on his bed and laid there. How did he feel? Miserable. He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his arm. The dent and redness were already receding. This only would happen on the first time though. The more you did it, the longer they took to heal. The harder you pushed, the longer it took the cut, the longer it would take it heal. Sure, even if you never actually broke skin to where it'd bleed, you would still have marks. Scars could still form.

Cutting was bad. And while Edwin knew this, he didn't know all that could happen. He didn't know that you could make people who didn't even know you worry. He didn't know that he wouldn't be able to wear short sleeves. Ever. Okay, sure, he could hardly do that now because of all the bruises, but having to hide something you did to yourself was different then hiding something someone else did. You felt… guilt. Guilt and shame.

But Edwin didn't realize this. He was simply thinking tat SoccerGirlAbused was right and that he'd be fine as long as he never actually drew blood. But he was wrong. Oh, was he wrong. Because once you start, only a few things can make you stop. And one of them is love.

Edwin didn't realize it, but he'd fallen asleep with the light on, and with Derek's homework unfinished. It was only a few minutes before Edwin had to leave for school when he awoke, sunlight blaring in his eyes. He had just shoved a clean shirt on and scooped up all this things into his bag when George was yelling up the stairs for Edwin to hurry up.

Honestly, George had forgotten about his younger son. Edwin, in George's opinion was always so self sufficient and quiet, it was so easy to forget him.

"Hold on!" Edwin yelled, throwing the blanket that was on the floor onto his bed. That's when he saw the knife. That despised knife. The knife that could cause so much pain. Edwin held his breath and picked it up and threw it into his sock drawer. He slammed the drawer closed and threw on a light jacket before grabbing his school bag and running down the stairs. He'd been careful to wear a long sleeve shirt.

They all soon left, George and Marti in the car (Marti was to go to daycare) and Edwin and Derek on foot. "Here," said Derek, giving his school bag to Edwin before running on ahead where a few of his friends were. Edwin kept walking, lugging the two bags. His thoughts soon turned to what would happen when Derek realized Edwin had in the space of only a few weeks, had forgotten his homework again.

But these thoughts didn't stay long. They soon turned to his arm. Carefully, being sure he was far enough behind Derek and his friends, Edwin pushed up the sleeve of this coat and jacket and stared at the spot. A thin line was all that could be seen, but to Edwin it stood out as if it had the size of a ruler. Today would be a long day.

And Edwin's conclusions were soon proved true. To Edwin, it felt as if he spent the whole day trying to avoid showing his arms.

Science had been the hardest. With the lab, they had to roll up their sleeves but Edwin kept slipping his back down. He couldn't risk people seeing the mark. It could be the end of him practically.

"Edwin, roll up your sleeves," the teacher demanded for the fifth time that hour. Edwin was a good kid; she didn't understand what was going on with him today. "I'd like you to stay after class for a few minutes, please."

"Ooo," said one kid from across the room. "The Great Edwin has to stay after class."

"Edwin, after class? Dang, now I've seen everything," another kid commented in amazement.

Edwin painstakingly rolled up his sleeves, just to the elbow. The faint scar would still be able to be seen though. Edwin carefully kept the underside of his armed turned towards his body, careful not to let his wrists be seen.

Five minutes till the end of class, Edwin rolled his sleeves down to cover his arms again as she put a few of the beakers away, the cold glass being warmed up by his body heat and wiped the table with some of that brown crappy school paper towel. He noticed the kids whispering and tried to make out what they were saying. Anything, he was doing anything to keep from remembering that he had to stay after class to talk to the teacher. It was only fourth hour. Lunch was after this class…. His mind kept wandering.

Finally the bell rang and the students rushed out of the classroom, the teacher, Mrs. Clements having said it to be okay. Edwin picked up his binder and his books and walked up the teacher's desk.

"Y-you wanted to see me," he stuttered, staring at the top of the desk.

"Something seems to be troubling you, Edwin," the teacher said softly, turning from her computer and standing p behind her desk. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"N-no," Edwin stuttered again.

"Edwin," the teacher said seriously. "Is your father abusing you?"

"No," said Edwin confidently. His father was not abusing him. It was the truth. Would it be a lie not to say that his brother was? What Derek did was more then just sibling rivalry.

Mrs. Clements sighed softly and said, "You may go, but remember that if you ever need to talk to me, I'm here."

Edwin nodded and ran out of the room. On the way to the lunch room, he stopped at his locker, and using the door as a shield from the other kids, he looked at the scar again. He'd already looked at it at least once in every hour. The mark was still there, fainter, maybe then in the morning, but still there all the same.

Edwin shoved his sleeve down as he got his lunch and went to the cafeteria. He sat down in his usual corner, expecting a quiet lunch, but he wasn't quite so lucky. A girl plopped herself down across from him and looked at him.

Edwin glanced up. The girl had mouse brown hair and blue eyes. He kept staring, his sandwich falling to the table.

"What? Do I have peanut butter on my nose?" the girl asked in a middle pitched tone with a bit of nasal. It was the same voice as Edwin had given to his acquaintance on Abused Angels.

"N-no," stuttered Edwin quickly looking down. It was impossible for this girl and SoccerGirlAbused to be the same.

"My name's Lizz," said the girl as she stood with the garbage. "And I know what's going on." She walked over to the garbage cans and threw her garbage away. Then she left the cafeteria, leaving Edwin with too many questions. What did she know about? Being the prime one.

A/N: Here's another update! The climax should happen in the next chapter if everything goes according to plan. So far I have to ideas. One involves Derek at school and another involved Marti, Derek at home Vote for whichever one you like! Ummm... most of this chapter and the things that happen are based on things that actually happned to me and how I was feelings. I know, I know it sounds fictionalized but I tried to be authentic as possible. The whole teacher thing, I really did fear happening. Not in science though, but in Math (stupid class felt like it was ninety degrees!). Oh and I thank everyone for all the support your giving me. And check out my profile for some possible future stories.