Chapter Two

If this had been anyone but Jasper I could simply ruin their life, steal their friends, and make them as unpopular as possible. It was simple, it was fun, and it was my hobby. But Jasper Hale had beaten me to the punch.

I walked slowly to the bathroom, as to stall from going back to that English class.

I got to the bathroom, starred straight at my self in the mirror, and completely broke down.

This, to any other girl would be due to the major PMS I am going through, but this was not the first time I had been broken down in the school bathroom.

I looked at the girl starring back at me. She was pretty, she had a decent body, and she was a girl everyone recognized. Then I looked into her eyes. They were blue, a pretty blue like the pool on a hot sunny day. But they were not happy. Not just because of the fat, hot tears falling out of them, but a deeper sadness than that.

I heard someone coming down the hall and ran into a stall to hide my break down.

I sat down on the toilet, not to use the bathroom, but to get off my feet. I glanced down at my wrists. They were so pale I could see my blue veins pumping the cold blood through them.

I scavenged through my bag for my mirror. The small thing had cracked into pieces sometime during the day. This just increased my depression and saved me the trouble of breaking it.

I took the shiny mirror shard and took a small glance at the hideous face of the beholder of the broken mirror. She had Sephora mascara streaks all down her face, her eyes were empty and her skin, washed clean of the makeup on it by the tears looked unhealthily pale.

I went through my bag to find a rag, or t-shirt or something absorbent. Jackpot, my gym shorts I was planning to wash when I got home.

I then placed my bag on the floor and took the sharp edge of the mirror shard to my paper thin wrist. I paralleled the previous scars with this slice. Then I looked down at my wrist. The warm blood was a surprise; I always knew I was a cold-blooded animal…

I took the gym shorts and held them against my wrist to soak up the blood.

I leaned back, let my head fall backwards and rest on the wall, and felt the release I have needed.

After a few minutes, the bell rang, signifying the end of English and the beginning of Chemistry. I glanced down at my wrist, the wound sort of scabbed over and I shuffled through my bag for a Band-Aid. After putting it on, I left the stall to wash my face in the sink.

After clearing my face of the mascara streaks and putting some foundation power all over, I looked ½ ways decent.

I then left the bathroom and stopped at my locker to grab a sweatshirt to cover the Band-Aid.