Shortly after going home, I was stuck in my room again. I had originally gone somewhat willingly, but I was starting to get bored. I had to be careful with the cutting; attempting suicide wasn't something to mess with, and losing too much blood over a fight with Mom would just make me look like a drama queen. Besides, I'd be found out that way.

"Don't want a repeat of being thirteen," I muttered. I remembered it all too well. I hadn't been cutting for very long; in other words, I had no knowledge of where to cut, how deep to do it so it wouldn't kill me, et cetera.

My stomach growled, and I frowned. I was pretty hungry, but I wasn't about to go beg for forgiveness and food. So, I opened my drawer and took out my diary and pen. I figured that maybe some writing practice would be good, and I had nothing better to do. I started writing.

Thirteen years old. It was a tough year for me. I had always heard that, but I thought it was just a bunch of bullshit. It wasn't.

I wasn't always five-foot-eight, and I definitely wasn't as strong as I am now. In fact, I was pretty short and weak as a kid. At thirteen, I was freaking four-eleven. That was hard, especially since Sebastian was almost five-and-a-half feet tall. Even Isidore, who was twelve, was two inches taller than me. I had a serious height complex, that was for damn sure. Especially since it wasn't really my fault. I couldn't even go to school until I was five because I was so sick all the time. I got really sick and almost died when I was a baby, and I was completely blind for a year and a half. I couldn't even see my own mother's face until I was two and a half. That's actually my earliest memory. Even now, my eyes are pretty bad. According to Lara, I'll have almost-perfect vision by my mid-thirties. I wish it would happen sooner; getting my glasses broken all the time is a pain in the ass.

Anyway, I was short and weak, and I was self-conscious about it. But one day, Sebastian had to call me short, and I snapped. I thought I was being brave by saying "fuck you," but really, I was just stupid. It was the first time he truly beat me up, but also the first time I fought back. By then, I had trained myself not to cry, but even showing weakness wouldn't have helped.

Both of us were sent home from school, and my whole family was pissed off. Ella started crying when she saw the blood and bruises. As soon as they started scolding me, I snapped again. I started screaming at all of them, and eventually, Grandpa and Dad had to wrestle me into my room.

I went crazy then, and I decided that I wanted to kill myself, or at least put myself in a lot of pain. I practically slit my whole arm open, and I must have yelled out pretty loud. I finally started getting dizzy from the loss of blood, and I fell to the floor. As my eyes started closing, Dad opened the door, and started calling for help. That was really all I could remember before I found myself in the clinic. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or pissed off. I was lucky that I wasn't sent to a mental institution…

I quickly closed the book. The shit flowing from my mind to the paper was making me cringe. Who gave one, anyway? Certainly not a previously-blank page.

I flopped down on my bed, and felt something crinkle in my back pocket. I furrowed my brow, and fished out whatever was there.

"A note…?" I murmured. I quickly unfolded it, and my eyes widened at what it said:

Meet me tonight at seven by the big tree in the Church District.

- Amy

I frowned. The note was beyond vague, and I first thought that I was in trouble with her or something. Then again, I hadn't really done anything to make her mad…

I looked at the clock on my wall, and I realized that it was almost seven.

"Shit!" I muttered. If I was late, Amy would be pissed beyond belief, especially if it was important. I needed to hightail it out of there, that was for sure.

I opened the door to my room, and quickly but quietly headed toward the front room of the house. By that time, everyone was gone from the table, and it looked as though the coast was clear.

"Kind of late to be going out," a voice said. I cried out in surprise, since I hadn't expected that anyone would be there. It took me a minute, but I recognized the voice as Ria's.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark?" I spat. "And more importantly, why do you care where I'm going?" I was legitimately mad; if she saw me leaving, then she might tell my parents, and then, I'd be screwed. I had never snuck out of the house at night before, so they would definitely be suspicious.

"There's nothing wrong with the dark," Ria replied. She turned on a lamp, and she feebly attempted to stand up. My first instinct was to help her, because I figured she was probably in a lot of pain from the stitches and the broken ankle. I didn't know why I was just standing there; Amy would be mad if I was late, and I had no business with this stranger. So, I opened the door and left the house.

As I started to walk, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty, and a lot like a jackass. But I rushed over to the Church District anyway.

Sure enough, Amy was looking pissed, and I almost considered running in the other direction before she noticed I was there. Before I could even make a decision, though, Amy came over to me.

"You're late," she snapped.

"I didn't find your note until a few minutes ago," I retorted. "I don't look in my back pockets. So, what do you want?"

Her response was a very rough kiss, and I cried out in pain at the contact with my bruised, swollen lower lip.

"What?" she demanded.

"That hurt!" I cried. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to teach you to toughen up," she replied. "But since that didn't work, I'll just have to skip to the good part."

"Good part?" I asked, but to my surprise, she shoved me up against the big tree, and started to unbutton my jacket with one hand, while the other ran down my chest. I instantly realized what she was doing, and my heart started pounding.

"I'm going to make you a real man," she replied. She kissed me again, though on my jaw, then moving down my collarbone…my breathing was getting shallow, and I was downright scared.

But then, something hit me: the shirt underneath my jacket didn't cover my arms. If she saw my arm, then she would dump me in a heartbeat, and she'd probably go back to Sebastian. That would be humiliating.

"No," I said, moving away from her. "I…I can't."

Her face contorted into an angry expression, and she slapped me across the face.

"You're pathetic," she hissed. With that, she walked quickly away from me. I sighed, wondering if that was really true.

Maybe it was.

Short chapter, I know.

And FYI, there's going to be some stuff that didn't appear in VLA, like the exchange between Gunie and Arianna in this chapter.

Remember to review!