The next day was pure murder. The weekend was over – back at school, back to normality. Or at least as close to normality as I can get. I was not looking forward to being back there, not now that Lizzie would probably be telling everyone about what happened.

I walked down in the kitchen that morning to get breakfast. Nora told me that Lizzie went ahead and walked to school before handing me the lunch money. I just rolled my eyes – of course.

The bus stop was cold. I could feel my flesh freezing as the winds blew on me. It wasn't that I was too lazy to dress right for the weather; it's just that I didn't feel the need to. My mind was already numb; why not make my body numb as well?

The bus was late that day. I remember because I could see the sun rising in the far horizon. The pink-yellow colour that was spread into an opaque turquoise. The edges of the sun's rays were reflecting off the dense clouds. A few stars remained, their luminance getting ready to fade. Even the moon had started disappearing.

I got distracted by the sunset that I didn't notice the bus pull up. The door opened and the driver honked. I jumped, snapping out of my daydream, and saw the bus driver staring at me: "Are you gonna ride, kid?"

"Yeah, sorry," I say, getting in. I look around for a seat, and notice there's a whole empty one. I think to myself before I realize, i Duh, that's where Lizzie and I sit. /i I sit down and sat my backpack in my lap.

The bus turned down the cul-de-sac as I slipped my iPod headphones into my eyes. I turned the music on full blast and let the screaming vocals fade out the chitter chatter of various students.

I sat on a bench next to the lockers for a while. The morning air was crisp on my skin and refreshing. I was able to get away from the real moment for those few seconds, until they were shattered by the sounds of Lizzie laughing.

She was standing by her locker, stunning as always. Her few friends were next to her and they were giggling and laughing. She briefly glanced over at me and her expression turned from happiness to hate. Her burning eyes glared at me and her mind seemed to scream, "What the fuck do you want, you pervert? Get out of here!"

I remained there for a few seconds before finally rushing to the bathroom and throwing up.

By the time seventh bell arrived, I was more than ready to head home. It wasn't that I wasn't in the mood for class (though it did contribute to it), it's that she was in the same class as me, sitting on the opposite side of class for once.

Our teacher was droning on and on about this and that, about negatives to positives, positives to negatives, about too many things for me to comprehend. Then she mentioned partner assignments.

Oh please, please, don't let me get Lizzie. For the love of god, anyone but Lizzie. We always worked together, but that didn't exactly seem like it would be a good idea given the current circumstances.

"Michael, you'll work with Quinn. Rachelle, you'll work with Dirk. Edwin, you'll work with Lizzie. Melanie, you'll w--"

My hand shot up: "Mrs. Leggat, can I go to the bathroom?"

"Can it wait, Edwin?"

"Yes, but I hear that holding in your urine can make it hard to sustain an erection or even get aroused."

She rolled her eyes. She had heard this many times from Derek. "Sure, just get back today."

I opened the stall door and sat on the toilet. I rummaged through my pockets. Where was it; where was it? It had been here before. I tried to find it, struggled to find it. Where the fuck was it!? Finally, my hands managed to find the razour that I had used to make the cuts on my arms.

The first one, the scar from three days ago, was starting to fade. The other two were still fresh, but looked to be aging given the days. I put the blade against my right arm, just above my wrist and pushed it in.

I instantly felt numb. My soul floated up and looked down on my body taking advantage of itself. The blood began to arrive as I gradually got deeper. The air flew in through the wound and tears began to form at the edges of my eyes.

Who was I? I certainly wasn't Edwin, the 16-year-old teenager who was in his junior year of high school. I wasn't the sweet, baby-faced teenager who didn't make the same "grades" as his big brother Derek Venturi.

And yet, sitting on this toilet stall with blood beginning to drip on the cold, marble floor reminded me that I was.

I realized I still had the razor in my arm, cutting the skin a millimeter away from my veins. I pulled it out and set it on the ground. The blood was oozing out faster than I could comprehend.

I slammed my other hand on it to get it to stop. Ow; shit, that didn't work. I looked around to try to find something. I pulled my shirt off and wrapped it around my arm, trying to put pressure on the cut.

God, I'm an idiot. I'm a Grade-A idiot. You learned from Degrassi that this wasn't right to do, why the fuck would you try to do it?

I sat my head against the stall and let the numbness slowly fade away. I started feeling pain and I closed my eyes. Blackness surrounded me. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't. My body was in sleep mode and I was too weak to fight it. The last thing I remember is the bell ringing...

My eyes slammed open. The only remaining light in the bathroom was the one flickering above my head. I looked at my watch. 6:40. Holy shit, I'd been passed out for four and half hours.

I pulled my phone out. It said three missed calls and one new text. I clicked view text. It was a short message from Lizzie, saying, "We need to talk." I gulped.