Jesse woke up in the morning, still feeling the effect from last night on himself. He sat up wearily and glanced around the room until his eyes landed on Beca, lying naked next to him. The blankets were covering her bare back, as she was lying on her side with her hands tucked under her chin. Her face was neutral and he could see the rise and fall of her small body as she slept. Her face had remants from last night, he could see the tear marks still lining her cheeks and her slightly swollen eyes.

Then he looked at her hands, her small and delicate little hands. He never got a close enough look at her arms last night. But he noticed all the scars and newly opened wounds and dried blood. It hurt to see that on her. It hurt to see such a beautiful girl, whose been hurt so much that she began taking a blade and dragging it across her pale skin.

He moved the blanket slightly so her hands were more exposed. Luckily, Beca Mitchell was a heavy sleeper, so she had just sighed in a dream like state. Jesse looked at her, more like lovingly stared, she was so beautiful. If he could he watch her sleep everyday for the rest of his life.

He focused back on her scarred hand, he saw all the rough like, angry scars. He saw all the horizontal scars, he wondered how she felt when she did it. He wanted to help her so badly. He wanted to just throw away those blades but he knew that wasn't a good idea. He was very keen in depression and psycological disorders. So he had learnt not to immediately take away,"their relievers of pain."

She quickly opens her eyes and is startled as she sees Jesse eyeing her as she sleeps.

"Jesus, Swanson. Aren't you a little stalker?" she giggles at his embarrased face when he was called upon for watching her like a creepy phsyco.

She sits up and wraps the cream coloured blanket around her and blushes as she looks down.

"That was...a fun night..." she never usually smiles so much, but she really couldn't stop smiling at the memory of last night.

Then suddenly she was filled with regret. Her gut practically sank down right into her legs. What if it was a mistake? What if he was just another idiot she started sleeping with, therefore earning her famous name: "Slut." She was always teased and talked about for being a slut, a whore, a prostitute. She was so messed up from the rape that she'd started sleeping around with random men. She was hurt so bad by those comments, the slight whispering whenever she walked down the hallways, the disgusting looks the "plastics" gave her, and no guy would come near her unless he was horny or an idiot.

She hated herself, she hated herself so much. She hated that she was weak, that she couldn't be loved. She hated that she was a fuck up. A worthless piece of shit.

Beca was so deep in thought she never noticed the tears creeping out from her eyelids and sliding down her cheeks. Jesse noticed this and placed his hand against her cheek, slowly and softly, wiping away the tears. She inhaled softly and looked up at him, his handsome brown eyes looked so comforting at that time.

"Bec? You alright?" he said looking at her. He could see her look down and close her eyes, to trap her hot tears in her eyelids. She hated being weak in front of people, but there was this thing about him. Like she could trust him.

"Nothing...I'm fine." and there it was. The Beca Mitchell her friends knew her as, the closed off, faking I'm fine girl. They didn't know her exact problems but one day Chloe walked in on Beca trying on her dress for a party (she never wanted to go and never knew why she agreed) and the redhead started freaking out in the room with Beca comforting her in nothing but a bra and underwear.

She got up from her bed and felt that familar pain again. That numb and hurt feeling she gets, it begs her to take out the blades. It begs her to drag them across her skin. And most of the time she gives up on fighting and just lets her hand do the talking. And cutting.

Jesse left later on so he could go home and get ready for a movie his family was going to later on.

That afternoon, Beca locked herself in the bathroom and let the blade take over her skin.

She lied in her bathtub, crying about her life. She hated it and she wanted to die. A small fraction of the water was stained with blood. She felt so numb and the pain was unbearable. That's when she had enough.

She lifted herself out quickly and opened her cupboard that contained her Xanax. She shuffled back to the tub and lowered herself in again before making more cuts on her skin, this time slicing her thighs (thank God Jesse didn't notice last night) and her waist as well as her arms.

Afterwards, she took a handful of Xanax and laid the bottle on the side. Her vision became blurry after a few minutes and her hand accidently knocked the bottle over.

Everything faded away and went black

A/N: Hehe, another cliff hanger. Stay tuned for more and sorry about the long wait.

~Jeca1347