(TW: The next portion of the story contains self-harm behaviors. If this is a sensitive topic for you, please do not read. The last chapter works as an ending should you not want to continue this plot line.)

(Several months later, early September. New school year.)

Ember POV:

"Well I am so sorry we can't all be perfect like you, I fell asleep last night on face time. I have dance, a social life, homework. I have to slack on something and I will change some of your answers please its a one time thing." Sam asked as she was already copying my math homework over my shoulder two minutes before the bell. She had switched to this class after adding a zero period to her schedule to get out earlier. It was really nice to have a friend in my least favorite subject. Last year we had no classes together but this year she charmed her way into us having nearly every subject together. Apart from art and history we had the same class periods. She took history zero period, which I told her was a bad idea if she wanted to remember anything she learned, and had enough credits to have a free period the last part of the day. I was unwilling to get up any earlier than necessary to completely share a schedule despite the puppy dog eyes she tried to give me.

I rolled my eyes and didn't hand her my paper. If she was going to copy, I wasn't going to help her. She could stand uncomfortably balancing her binder against her leg writing. I felt irritation well up in me at her calling me perfect. I was not perfect and keeping up the idea that I am was exhausting.

Several months ago after my dad killed Adrian, I was punished for my recklessness. I know they changed their method for me because of my background but they still seemed to go easy on me with what they did give. I had to write a formal apology to each family member so I'd fully grasp the impact I would have had should they have not been there in time to save me. I also was not permitted to drive myself for two months since I had abused that freedom to run away. Being supervised nearly every minute of the day drove me batty but I understood I had scared them. I vowed to not be so troublesome anymore and I had succeeded. Perfectly. I was always perfect. It was expected and it was a lot of pressure.

This school year started and I found being perfect in every school subject, every dance class, and every moment I was home both exhausting and tedious. I was content before to just do my best but now I wasn't content unless I was the best. I realized it was probably me trying to prove to myself that I was valuable and not a huge unwelcome alteration in everyone's life. I loved my family. I loved my life. I guess it's true that the more you have, the more you have to be afraid of. My family never gave me any indication that I was a burden but, then again, I had rarely given them an opportunity to. I was scared to. They fell in love with the battered girl that wanted nothing more than to be perfect for them. Would they still like me if I actually was flawed? If I got a B. If I won second place. If I mouthed off every once in a while. I didn't know and I didn't want to find out. They always told me I was their daughter and I was loved unconditionally but I had never really tested that. I was afraid to test that. Would they become frustrated with me if I stopped being perfect? The problem I was having was that presenting myself as perfect when I was far from it was becoming tedious. I was frequently thinking of my biological father even though he wasn't a threat anymore. I guess trauma doesn't just go away because I have a loving family now. This embarrassed me. I felt ungrateful for being anything less than happy because I had everything now. But laying in my bed at night I was less than happy. I was replaying things that had happened to me. Trying to figure out why it happened and being completely unsatisfied when I came up with nothing. I was losing sleep and the sleep I did have was fitful at best.

All of these truly wonderful thoughts were interrupted by the bell and Mr. Howard asking us to pass our homework forward.

"Hope you're finished plagiarizing because I'm passing mine up now." I said a little harsher than I meant to.

Completely oblivious to my tone, Sam responded distracted as she scribbled one last set of numbers, "Yeah, thanks!"

I made it through fifth period but by the last class I was on the verge of passing out and I still had dance after school. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to skip.

I weighed the option in my mind for all of three seconds before remembering how promptly the school called my father at work that time I left before first period last school year. An idea strikes me and I walk past the building that held my art class and toward the office. I was already done with my project for the week and would just be given body work anyway.

"Ember, the bell is about to ring. Do you need something?" Ms. Fields asked as I walked in.

"Hi um. I know yes. Yes I was wondering if I could see the nurse?" I asked slightly flustered. Being "sick" was acceptable, even for perfect people.

"Well she left early today….Are you not feeling well? I can call your parents." She offered.

"No. Well yes. No, don't call my parents and yes I am not feeling well. I just have a headache, though. I think I just need to rest for a bit I was hoping to just get some aspirin and to lay down for a bit."

Ms. Fields looked sympathetic. "Of course. Well, technically I can't give you any medication because I'm not the nurse but you are more than welcomed to go lay down. I can call and ask your mom for permission to give you aspirin."

"No, that okay. I'll just go see if closing my eyes helps first." I responded.

I set my backpack down on the floor and laid down on the paper covered bed that resembled a wrestling mat. I closed my eyes and put an arm over them to block the bright fluorescents.

The next thing I knew I heard my moms voice.

"Honey?" Accompanied by a slight shaking of my arm.

I opened my eyes and sat up straight, blinking.

Ms. Fields was at the doorway and I shot her a mild look of betrayal for calling my mom.

"I let you sleep as long as I could but school is out in five minutes and you didn't seem to be feeling better. You were groaning in your sleep." She said to me, noticing my look of betrayal and hoping to explain.

"Thank you, Ms. Field I will take her home and have one of her sibling drive her car home so it's not left in the lot." My mom responded for me as she was slinging my backpack over her own arm and putting her other arm around me to lead me out.

I was groaning because I was dreaming of being in pain not actually feeling it, but it all sounded the same to an outside observer, I'm sure. I followed silently to the car. I usually was disappointed missing dance but I felt relief. I was so tired I didn't think I could even make it through warm ups.

"Whats wrong? What are your symptoms? I let your dad know-" Mom asked me when we were almost to the car.

"You didn't have to do that. I just have a headache I didn't sleep well last night."

I responded, knowing I'd have an overprotective dad in doctor mode waiting to ambush me when he got home. The thought was sort of endearing as that was something I could never have expected before. I could be on death's door before and still be expected to make dinner.

"You haven't slept well for several nights, sweetheart. I'm worried." My mom told me with concern clear in her voice. We were now on the way home and I had my head leaned against the car door.

"You needn't worry, I've survived worse." I said, trying to lightheartedly joke. Instead, my mother pursed her lips but didn't press the issue further. Both of my parents were great at not hounding me for information, accepting that I preferred to be private. Or maybe they just figured I would figure it out on my own like I always did. Or rather, appeared to.

I stared out of the window and the silence in the car felt slightly tense. The trees formed one long green blur as we drove down our driveway. Once we parked I went to unbuckle and grab my bag but was stopped by my mom putting her hand on my thigh. I met her eyes hesitantly.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right? You can tell me anything. I want to be here for you and if you are having trouble sleeping it usually means something is on your mind making it too anxious to rest." My mom spoke softly.

I tried to keep the emotion out of my expression. I tried to come up with an excuse that wasn't too lame to calm her fear. "Its just the start of the year. I like a routine and I haven't fully established one yet. It is still new and the weather is starting to get really cold already. I'll turn my space heaters on at night and once my routine is down I am sure my mind won't be so restless." I put my hand on hers that was still on my leg and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

She looked at me understandingly, seeming to be satisfied with my answer. She brushed hair behind my ear and rubbed my cheek with her thumb. "Why don't you go up to your room and lay down again. I'll call the dance studio to let them know you won't be there. I'll bring you some ibuprofen and hot tea in a few minutes."

I nodded and headed up. I glanced in the mirror once I was in my room and stopped dead in front of it. I looked truly exhausted. The dark circles under my eyes looked nearly like bruises. I rubbed my hands over my face in frustration. I never did well with no sleep. Pain? easy. Sickness? I could power through. But sleep deprivation? I was bound to snap.

I couldn't snap, though. Perfect people didn't snap. I had to maintain my facade or I'd be just like what Adrian told me I was. Disappointing and unlovable. I looked in the mirror disgusted with myself. I felt so much. It was like all my emotion was bubbling under the surface with no way to escape. I was controlled on the outside but just underneath I was literally about to combust. Why couldn't my physical body just accept that I didn't need to be in fight or flight all of the time anymore? Before at least I knew after I was hurt I could rest a while. Now it was like my body was expecting it and since it never received it, It continued to anticipate pain. This coupled with trying to be perfect was going to kill me. Maybe if I…..

My brain almost felt high with anticipation of what I was thinking. If my body was expecting pain…. Maybe I should give it pain.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knocking.

"Ember, I told you, you need to lie down." Esme's voice was softly chiding me.

"Yes, mom." I responded.

—-

As I stare at the ceiling I am thinking of ways to do it. I can't bleed. Fire does nothing but make me feel good. An idea hits me.

I get up and start to walk downstairs.

"Ember? Are you okay? Are-" My dad was at the door of his study.

I held up my hands in a placating manner. "Daddy I'm just getting some water." I said, continuing to walk past toward my destination. He had given me the entire check-up I expected when he got home from work. Thermometer in my mouth, pulse, breathing, etc. My goal was to avoid another one.

"One of us could have gotten that for you." He said.

"As much as I just love being waited on hand and foot, I am perfectly capable. It was just a headache." I respond, rolling my eyes as my back was to my dad by now.

"Don't roll your eyes at me." He said, causing me to giggle slightly.

Once in the kitchen, I filled a glass with ice and sprinkled salt over it. I returned to my room, glad my dad wasn't in the hallway to inspect the contents of my "drink". I sat down on my bed with the glass on the nightstand. I pulled down my pajama pants to reveal my thighs. They were ugly to begin with, what are a couple scars if it helps me sleep?

(Trigger Warning Next paragraph Includes Self-Harm)

I picked up a salt covered ice cube and used a sock as a barrier between the cube and my hand. I didn't want anything to be visible. I took a deep breath, knowing I'd have to keep my breathing steady to avoid my parents sensing anything was off. Stupid good hearing. I held the ice on my thigh, making a face at how uncomfortable it felt immediately. I then pressed down. Hard. I held the ice there breathing in and out steadily. My thigh had a burning sensation, well what would be a burning sensation to normal people. Is this what fire feels like to normies? I held it longer and longer. I held it until it melted entirely. It was excruciating. My warmth caused the ice to melt faster that I would have liked as it tried to attack the area that I held the ice. I grabbed anther cube covered in salt. The salt caused the ice to be even colder but I feel like it would have been fine without it. The pain was intense and so concentrated. It was weird because I felt light headed with equal amounts pain and relief. Like the emotion I held under the surface had an escape. Like all of the confusing threads of thoughts were unraveling. After the second cube melted I took another deep breath. I looked down at the marks before wiping away the excess water with the sock. I threw it off the edge of the bed and laid down.

I shut my eyes and had, for the first time in what seemed like weeks, a restful night. I didn't dream. I don't even think I switched positions. I woke up feeling significantly more rested. Maybe I could keep up being perfect after-all. I just had to stay cool. Stay cool. Ice cold.

A/N: Hey guys I had pretty much thought of the story as complete until the gears in my head started turning with this idea a couple days ago. I realize it's heavy and probably not for everyone, so feel free to see the last chapter as the ending if you please. I won't be overly graphic but this content is sensitive. Please read with caution and if you are ever having thoughts of self harm there are resources available one google search away. I won't link here in case it gets flagged but please don't hesitate to seek help. I love my readers and please leave a review if you have thoughts, I love to hear them. 3