Hey guys, thanku so much for all ur reviews, your all so sweet and they make me smile! I haven't really been happy with the writing in these last few chapters, it's been a bit juvenile, but that's because I gotta get to the romance, which I promise will begin in the next chapter or so! Xox BTW! Im not sure if the romance is gonna be troy/gabi, or troy n someone else…. Will go by popular demand so make sure u let me know what u want!

A very grumpy Troy was awoken by his father at 6:30am for school. Despite his wife's objection, Jack believed Troy deserved no mercy for his actions; he was just being an idiot for no apparent reason.

Troy felt revolting the second he stirred into consciousness. His father's yelling did not help his pounding headache: he just wanted to crawl under a rock and die to escape how sick he felt. His father however, was not going to hear any of it, so by 8:15am, Troy was showered, dressed, and somewhat fed.

The drive to school with his father was in stony silence. Jack refused to mention the events of the past two days, which was great news to Troy because he couldn't remember most of them anyway. All he knew was he awoke this morning in his bed, not knowing how he ended up there, and a day of the calendar had mysteriously disappeared.

Troy walked into the hallways and immediately could tell something was up. People were whispering as they glared at him, and no one said hello. While Troy was glad he wasn't being bombarded with loud greetings, he was confused by the student body's complete alienation of him. He spotted the gang near the end of the hall, so he walked up to his locker, which was next to them.

"Hey guys, what's up?"

They all just looked at him as though he were a German-speaking goldfish, and then just walked away, leaving a very confused Troy behind.

The morning passed painfully slowly for Troy. No one would speak to him or sit next to him. He was starting to piece together the weekend from the rumours. The most consistent version of events was that he had punched Chad in the face, hence the bruise, the ran to South Albuquerque Memorial park? Then was brought home by the police? The only thing that made sense to him in the rumours where those of heroine use; it would explain why he couldn't remember anything, but that was also the part of the story he didn't want people hearing or believing.

Everywhere Troy went people were glaring and mouthing him off. By the time lunch came around, Troy was glad for the chance to hide. He could see into the cafeteria as he put his books away and knew the gang wasn't going to have him sit with them, so he headed to the roof.

Troy had spent the last few months wishing people knew something was wrong with him, but now that they did, just wished he could just hide it again. Troy was not looking forward to afternoon homeroom. The gang was pissed at him, and they were not going to let him forget it. Shit.

Troy reached for his wallet. He was so confused about everything: everything had changed. He pulled out a blade. He wasn't sure why he carried it, but he always did. It made him feel safe, like he was ready for anything. He just stared at it. He didn't know for how long. It was such a little thing. Such a pretty thing. When the light caught its sharp edge he somehow felt like the blade mirrored his pain, and understood it: somehow this blade had become his only friend. A fact that both comforted and saddened him. A truth that haunted him, and would continue to haunt him as long as it held its power over him. Troy brought the blade slowly across his skin, both loving and hating the pain it caused. After a few more cuts, the pain inside him had dulled. It wasn't gone, but he could handle the next few hours maybe. As if on cue, the bell rang. Fuck. His arm was bleeding fairly badly and he had no bandages or anything. Troy slipped off his shirt, and then his wife beater, then put his shirt back on, trying not to get blood on it. He used the blade to cut the edge of the singlet, then ripped it to form a few cloth bandages. After quickly tying them around his arm, he slipped his jacket on and ran to homeroom.

He was 10 minutes late to homeroom, Darbus was gunna fry him. However when Troy arrived he found a disinterested substitute at the front of the room, so Troy looked around the room for a seat. Shit. Troy felt him stomach fall out his knees: there was only one seat free, on a double, in which the other seat sat Gabi. Troy hesitated, he wasn't sure if he should just turn around and walk away, but a meaningful cough from the sub forced him to walk slowly to the desk and take his seat. Gabi was reading quietly, but she noticed everything; from his second of hesitation, to the strange, unidentified, dark stain appearing on his jacket sleeve.

"So Troy, have fun shooting up during lunch?" Jason yelled. Troy didn't understand; he had always liked Jason, they had been friends. Now he was gonna try and start him?

The class was laughing, bar Gabriella who seemed totally immersed in her book.

Trot wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing, hoping that it would just stop.

"What's the matter playmaker? Think you're too good for us? Or is it that your too drugged to talk again?" said Zeke, joining in. Again Troy said nothing, but he was having trouble controlling his hands, which were starting to shake furiously.

"The truth is out boys: 'Wildcat Superstar a Drug Addict'. Couldn't handle the pressure, so turns on his mates. I spose it's about time we saw his true colours." Chad, his life long friend, wasn't even going to try and understand him, but was going to lead the angry mob which was pushing him to the edge and forcing him to jump. Troy tried to control his shaking hands enough to gather his stuff together, he had to get out before he cracked, and he was getting blood on the table. He left the room as fast as he could.

Gabi didn't like the way the gang was harassing Troy, but she did think he deserved it. I mean, what was he thinking punchin his best friend for no reason? Gabi looked down while thinking, and noticed a piece of paper on the floor. It was music paper with notes and lyrics on it, and had Troy's name on the top left-hand corner. Gabi supposed he must have dropped it without noticing as left so quickly, and so she picked it up. She wasn't sure whether to read it or not; some lyrics can be personal, but her curiosity was to get the better of her.

"I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of shit
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way"

By the time she had finished reading, Gabi had tears flowing down her face. At this time, she was the only person to realise that Troy had a bigger problem than stupidity; he was sick and hurting. Pretending to be immersed in her book, she tried to recall any changes in Troy over the last month or so. It all seemed so clear now; his game slipping, being vague and spaced out, constantly tired and less talkative. All these things she had pushed aside, now she saw how clearly they pointed to that which no one had realised. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. When she had broken up with Troy she had promised that they would remain good friends, but as a friend she had failed him: failed to see his pain and be there for him like she should have. She began to cry harder, trying to stay silent, and was grateful the gang was too deep in a bitchy conversation to notice. She didn't know what to do: she couldn't tell the guys; they wouldn't listen, and she couldn't confront Troy because he might take it the wrong way and think she was still into him…

Troy was going insane. He was alone in the dark theatre, but he couldn't find his music. Fuck. He had searched his bag and locker countless times, but it he couldn't find it anywhere. He refused to believe it was lost. It wasn't lost: it couldn't be lost. Cuz if it was lost, then it could be found by anyone, and that was not something he wanted to think about. By this time Troy was losing it: his mind was racing, his heart was threatening to leap put of his chest and move to Mexico, and his whole body, especially his hands were shaking violently. He decided to make a call.