Hello! This is my first FanFic, so bear with me. Let me know what you think of it! :) Also, I know I'm not the best writer. I try my hardest, though, and that's saying a lot.

There will be at least two chapters, I'm in the process of writing the second one. If you want me to write more chapters, I'll write more! :)

(Takes place a year after Degrassi Goes Hollywood, at Marco's birthday party)

Ellie Nash

There was crappy music blaring all across our apartment, there were people I recognized and people I didn't scattered everywhere, and then there was me. Poor, lonely Ellie, sitting in the corner like a bump on a log. It's not like I wasn't happy to see my best friend being happy. I just wasn't in the partying mood, even if it were Marco's party. I scanned the room, and he was nowhere to be found. I saw old friends from Degrassi, a few friends from the Core, but there was no him. This upset me deeply. He was in the city over the holidays, and I didn't understand why he wouldn't be here tonight. Maybe he knew I was here, and didn't want to see me? Or maybe he wasn't up to partying, just like me. Whatever the reason, he wasn't here, and I was upset over him again. I don't know why I wanted him there. Or maybe, I was searching for him because I didn't want him there. Hell, I didn't know what I wanted! It's always been like that for him and me. I was depressing myself again, which I really did not need.

For a moment, my mind wandered and I thought about my mother. She was killed in a car accident – a drunken driving accident, on her way to pick me and my father up at the hospital after he was released last summer. Of course, this just made my father's life worse, so he was put right back into the hospital. Ever since that day, I've been breaking countless promises to myself. I would say to myself, "This is the last time I'm going to cut." After a while I stopped promising myself that I wouldn't, because I knew that the next time I got upset I would cut myself again. And again. And again.

I scratched at my arm, feeling the bumps of scars under the fabric of my sleeve, and my thoughts went back to him. I scanned the living room once more for him, and I almost gave up. But that's when I saw the front door open. He walked in alone, and no one really seemed to notice until a blonde girl, who I recognized from one of Marco's Gay-Straight Alliance club meetings, which he dragged me to every now and again, saw him walk in, and yell "OH MY GOD, IT'S CRAIG MANNING!"

Seeing him made my heart ache. The last time I saw Craig Manning, he kissed me. And even though that kiss only lasted for a moment, it seemed like it lasted a lifetime. It was almost like it was in slow motion; every second of the kiss was completely perfect in my mind. But alas, after that kiss, and after I got on a plane back to Toronto, Craig more than likely went home to his model girlfriend, without even one thought of Ellie Nash.

I closed my eyes and went back to mine and Marco's trip to Los Angeles to visit Paige last year. My father was back from Afghanistan and he was in the hospital with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I didn't want to believe it, so I ignored it completely. L.A. was like an escape for me. That was, until I met Craig on the street, eating ketchup chips with Pete Wentz. Seeing him then was sufficiently awkward, of course. He had been sober from cocaine for a year and a half, and I was proud of him. After problems with Marco and Paige, I stayed with Craig. We bonded, and it was like old times. I felt like he was falling for me, like I was for him. Alas, it was Craig after all. You always have to expect the unexpected with him, and in this case, his beautiful, model girlfriend was the unexpected. I was hurt yet again by Craig Manning. Shocker.

I waded out into deep waters, not trying to kill myself, contrary to popular belief. I was trying to escape from the reality that was slowly catching up with me.

And that leads us to the kiss. Well, the few kisses I got from Craig Manning before my departure. I loved him, I really did. But the next time I heard from Craig Manning, he e-mailed me about his proposal to his girlfriend. It was stupid for me to get hurt, but I was truly broken. My heart had been ripped out of my chest, thrown on the ground, and smashed to millions of pieces right before my eyes.

I snapped back to reality when I heard girls running from all sides of the apartment to get at least one glance at the superstar. That is, until Marco cut through the swarm of ladies and grabbed Craig by the arm, then pulled him in to the living room while announcing that he went to high school with the star. I was amazed that the people were in awe over Craig being here, but they did hardly anything when Manny arrived. I hoped he, or anybody else for that matter, wouldn't notice me when I slowly got up from my chair in the corner, and cut through people to get to my room. I fought my way through the madness, and once I made it to my bedroom and closed the door, I was virtually exhausted. I sat down on my bed when I heard a few of the girls chanting for him to play a song, then silence followed. I could almost hear the creaking of the latches as Craig opened his guitar case, and then I heard his voice. That familiar, beautiful voice I had fallen in love with so many years ago.

"This is a song I wrote for a girl who really helped me through hard times in my life. I thought she'd be here tonight, but I haven't seen her..." I listened closely, knowing that he was going to play my song. I could hear whispers, probably people wondering who the girl was, and where she was, and then Craig started again. "Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this." For a few moments, there was complete silence, which was broken with the first line of my song. When I heard the first lyrics, I burst out into tears, and collapsed onto the floor. I hadn't heard the song since the day he played it for me in L.A. I opened my eyes, and through the tears in my eyes I could see something in the distance, lying on the floor next to my dresser.

It was my CD case.

The old, ratty CD case, filled with switch blades, pocket knives, elastic bands, razors, small scissors, and of course, my compass from grade ten. I knew what I had to do, so I crawled over to the side of my dresser, zipped open the case and made my choice; the compass. It had never failed to help me control my own pain; I could always rely on my compass. I slid the compass out of its special pocket, examined it for a second, and then sat up against the wall beside my dresser. I pulled up my sleeve, looked for a free spot on my arm, and found the perfect spot. I pressed the sharp end of the compass to my skin until it broke through, causing me to grit my teeth a bit. It was deep this time, one of the deepest ones I've done in a long time. A smart person would have stopped, but I needed this.

I listened to Craig sing the chorus of the song, cried harder, and built up the courage to bury the compass deeper into my arm, and then I dragged it across until I met the side of an old scar. I was crying harder, but this time it was from relief. Craig finished the song, and when he finished, so did the relief. Huh. This was strange, usually the relief lasted longer than that, but this time was different. This time, the relief was replaced with pain; searing pain that ached through all of my body. I tried to suppress a scream, but there was no use. I screamed loudly and gripped my arm, trying to stop the pain even for a second. A realization washed over me. This is it. This is where I'm going to die. Before I knew it, there was blood everywhere. My arm was limp, and I was getting weaker by the second. I was going in and out of consciousness, and when I was about to black out completely, I heard my name being yelled by someone familiar. I felt their hand on my shoulder, and they yelled for help. I didn't even get to see who it was until there was nothing but blackness everywhere.