Zoey Young POV
I looked at the cuts, a reminder of my crappy life. I stared at the torn picture of Gabe Willis, my ex-boyfriend. I didn't cut just because of him; I wouldn't let the boy have that satisfaction. I cut because of stress, anxiety, worry.
I glanced at the knife on my desk; I fought myself internally about picking it up and slicing one more gash in my wrist. I knew that one cut would turn into two, which would turn into much more. I gazed at my thighs; the white scars on my tan skin still read out 'HELP ME'.
The only person who really knew and cared about my health—besides Sarah, Skinner and Grace—was my twin sister, Amanda. I just pushed her away.
I picked up my bass and started tuning it. I barely played at all before Amanda walked in. I saw her glimpse at my knee scars. She was about to say something when I interrupted her, "Get out."
Amanda looked hurt, she was always sensitive, "Zoey," she shifted to her other foot, fingering her charm bracelet that I gave to her when we were fourteen, I was slightly touched that she still had it, "I'm worried about you—"
"Well, don't be." I snapped, "I don't want your pity."
"You've been cutting again haven't you?" I looked at her face, but not in her eyes, she looked truly concerned, "You always get irritable when you do."
"Just get out, Amanda!" I yelled. She obliged reluctantly. I heard a knock on my window; I looked out and saw Sarah. I let her in immediately. She fell asleep in my chair when she came in; I didn't need an explanation of what happened.