I think I owe you all an explanation. I'm not going to go through my whole story, but here's the idea of it. In ninth grade, my doctor was worried about me during a check up. She said I wasn't 'happy' enough for a 15 year old girl. So, she made me have a session with her, where I told her everything. Then she told me had depression with some anxiety mixed in. Which I guess is normal, but at the time, I felt alone, and scared. She put me on pills, which I decided to stop taking, because they 'didn't help'. Anyway, I started seeing a therapist. And I was fine through tenth grade. Now… I don't even know where to start. I've been stressed out to the max, I've never felt worse about myself, and I've been in this rut. All my friends graduated last year, my best friend Brook and I are drifting apart, and I really miss this one guy who broke my heart (which is totally cliché, and not like MrsAvanJogia, but it's true) and work has been stressing me out, my band teacher says I'm a failure because I am choosing to work instead of going to a band concert. So, tonight, I'm laying in bed, thinking things over, trying to reach out to someone, and I'm totally alone, and all the sudden, I found myself thinking in Perfectverse Astrid again. It was… it had been a while, believe me, it was the weirdest feeling.

So… that's how come I'm writing this chapter.

So… trigger warning! Please, if you need to talk to me. I beg of you, please, please talk to me. You guys mean more to me than anything else. I love you all, and thanks for bearing with me all this past year. You guys make this worth it.

So, I own nothing. And don't read unless you've read Perfect, or if you don't really care, then I can't stop you.

Stay Perfect.

Failure.

It was something that Astrid never really heard up until she started dating Sam. Sure, her mother said it if she bombed a test, but that was more of the 'You better do better on the next test or get a retake, failure' sort of thing.

And Astrid always did better.

But when Sam said it… it was… it was like she was trash on the lowest level of society. It was like she didn't matter.

And maybe she didn't. Maybe she was put on this earth to be some kind of punching band for this jackass she 'fell in love' with.

And it wasn't even love, with was that petty high school love.

Stupid love.

But she never felt more like a failure then when she stood in front of the mirror and saw the bruises.

She let him hit her. She let him do this to her. It was her fault.

She let one tear roll down her face. Just one, because she was squeezing her eyes so tight, one accidently slipped out.

When she opened her blue eyes again, something happened. The light inside her eyes was gone. She was holding her father's razor in her hand, debating to herself.

There were girls at school who did this, cut themselves. They were either girls who showed off the fresh cuts and scars, and said they were just battles scars, a battle they just can't win. Or they were girls who you wouldn't expect and accidently see the scars in the locker room changing after gym class.

Astrid was staring at herself, naked. Bruises lined her skin, blue and gross. She looked down at her bruised hand, and saw the glittering silver of the razor.

The first time, it was like it wasn't even happening. One second the razor was coming to her skin, the next, her arm was bleeding, and Astrid couldn't believe what she'd done.

This, what she's going through, it's like she's falling through a hole, and she can't stop…

Now she has, and she hit rock bottom. She really was a failure.

She picked up the razor with her left hand. She had to be smart about this. If she cut on her dominate side, no one would really ever find out.

So, she picked up the razor, and started down. She gasped at the sharp pain. But… the pain is what takes the mind away from the actual problem…

She started on the cross line, until she finally made an F. She squeezed her eyes tight again, and one more tear slipped out.

"Okay, Hofferson… you deserve this… you know you do…"

She started on the A. And as she went on, she realized, it really did take her mind away from her problem. This did help.

She just needed an escape. She needed her own 'Happy Little Pill' to get away from all this Sam drama, her mother's criticism, her father's drinking, and her sister's…

Her sister's just not being there.

She needed this, she knows she does. But sometimes, she wishes there could be another option…