A/N: This was a pretty hard chapter to write. Lexa's struggle is far from over, but son't count her out. While she's struggling with deep depression and self-hate, she's still he Heda we know and love!

Also, I've had some readers ask why this happened and how the tension between Clarke/Lexa could possibly cause a suicide attempt. The answer is that that that it was just the straw that broke the came's back. As someone who's struggled with depression and self-harm, I can tell you that majority of the time, it takes a lot of damage for someone to snap like that. Years of holding in feelings and pretending she's okay made Lexa hurt more and more and eventually, the internal pain because too much and she cut to relieve herself but she cut too deep, so while she didn't technically plan of killing herself, she didn't try to stop it when she knew what was happening. And with self-harm and an unplanned suicide attempt comes depression and felling worthless which is Lexa's current struggle, but she has Clarke, Jake, and a whole bunch of annoying but caring friends (Octavia, Bryan "Batman", etc.")

Anyhow, here's the next chapter!

Chapter 20: What's broken can be healed

I was released two days before Christmas.

Clarke was hoping that me being home for Christmas would be good for me. But it wasn't. I felt guilty, guilty that I ruined Christmas for everyone.

I ruin everything. It' just what I do.

…..

"I love you."

I closed my eyes, tears escaping.

"How could you love me? I ruin everything."

She gently grabbed my chin, making me look at her. "Don't ever say that again. You ruin nothing."

…

"I need you, Lexa."

Just another word.

I was broken. I can't be fixed.

It's part of the depression, they say. You'll only get better when you want to get better for yourself, and nobody else, they say.

Clarke told me that at 11:52 PM on December 23rd.

"What if I don't want to get better?"

It was the truth.

And it broke her.

…

"Lexa," Jake tried. I was lying in bed, staring at the wall numbly. I didn't even feel alive. "Clarke…she needs you. She loves you."

"She shouldn't. She should hate me."

"Why?"

"Because I hate me." I whispered."

It was mostly true.

And I broke him, too.

….

Christmas Eve night. I should be happy, I should be celebrating.

But I'm not.

I'm standing in the bathroom, holding a razor blade.

Clarke and Jake got rid of everything sharp, everything but this one. This one I hid, just in case.

I pressed it to my skin, sliding it across. But no blood trickled out. I didn't press hard enough to. I didn't want to. It would break…no, it would kill Clarke if I killed myself, if I hurt myself. I needed to be better for her. No, I needed to be better for me, for us. And I wanted to.

"Clarke!" I yelled, hand shaking.

She appeared in the doorway, frozen, staring at the razor in my hand with fear. "Take it," I whispered. She took it, pocketing it, to throw away far from home. "Help me."

She understood. She held me, crying into my shoulder.

"I can't do this without you. I need you, Klark. I need you."

"I'm not going anywhere, ai hodnes."

….

"I want to get better," I told them, Clarke and Jake.

They were relieved, they were overjoyed.

Tomorrow was Christmas.

…...

Christmas morning, I woke up to the smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Jake's treat. Clarke led me to the kitchen.

For the first time in two weeks, I ate a whole meal. I drank the juice, I smiled, I was a part of a conversation that wasn't one sided. I was trying.

We passed out presents, presents bought before my brush with death. Clarke got me the most beautiful necklace with the infinity symbol which was donned with diamonds that must've cost a fortune, and Jake got me a beautiful fur lined coat. Clarke got the beautiful earrings she had been looking at every time we went to the mall but never got because of the price. Jake got her art supplies, the good kind. And for Jake, Clarke got him a golden watch, and got him a Nikon camera for him to capture moments with.

"For the both of you…"

He disappeared and reappeared with a large box with air holes.

I was much more excited than Clarke. I peeked in the box and stopped myself from squealing. "A German Shepard puppy!" I scooped the puppy up.

"Dad!" she wasn't truly mad. But she wasn't too thrilled about the puppy either.

"Clarke," I whined, smiling as I put the pup down. I knelt beside him, laughing as he licked my cheek.

"Clarke…this could be good for her," I overheard Jake say. And I didn't mind.

….

I made dinner.

I insisted, I had made Christmas dinner every Christmas for five years and I wasn't going to stop now.

"She needs this," Clarke repeated her father's words from earlier.

I did need it. I truly did.