Eventually, I’ll have to leave. My dad will come to pick me up, take me home and talk to me about what Emmica’s mother has told him. I couldn’t figure out what I would say, how to get out of it, if I could. I must have been standing there for about 30 seconds, but it felt like 30 minutes. Ayson’s eyes haven’t left mine, and I held onto them. I blinked a few times in a row.

"H- hi." I didn’t move, I felt like my whole body was on fire.

"Is it true?" He asked, raising one eyebrow at me. I knew it was completely the wrong situation to think this, but it was so cute. I held back the smile that started to form, but he caught it. "It is."
"Is what true?" I fumbled with my thoughts, had he found out? Of course he did.

"Everyone is talking…" My eyes fell to my feet. I felt him move closer and my heart thudded three times faster, why couldn’t I stop this feeling? He’d taken one step and I could feel the friction between us, heating up as I lifted my eyes back to his, the blueness dulling into mine.

"About what?" I didn’t want him hating me like everyone else did, I wanted him to not care. It didn’t matter anymore, him liking me back, I just wanted someone to care. Someone here who would treat me better than people have this morning. As he started to move even closer, I felt my body stiffen and my insides crumble. I didn’t want to be here anymore, everything now just seeming so stupid and the entire situation unnecessary. "Don’t." I whispered and took a step back away from him, but his hand found mind and I stilled.

"Lena, I-" He was the one who looked down now, I knew what he was going to say and I didn’t want him too. I’d always wanted this but now, it seemed as if it would only cause more trouble. But I remained silent. "I like you. I don’t know why people say the things they are saying, but I do."

I allowed the corners of my mouth to rise in a small smile, looking at him in front of me, his fingers barley hanging onto mine in this empty hallway. “You do?” He’d said it, but could this just be another way to humiliate me so many times in one day? Could I trust this? He nodded. I couldn’t help but let my full smile show, his dimples poking so deep into the sides of his face, they looked like they never ended. He ran a hand through this dark hair and I could tell he was biting on the inside of his cheek as redness surrounded his freckles. “Okay.”

I couldn’t think of what else to say, so I backed away, heading towards my class with the widest grin on my face.
***
As soon as I returned home, I felt the tension in my house. I walked through the door, feeling a wave of fear wash over me, I’d forgotten Emmica’s mom had called my father at work, having Ayson on my mind for the rest of the school day. I could hear both of my fathers discussing in the kitchen, the normal smell of dinner on the stove when I first get home everyday becoming only a memory now. I set my bag down, making my way through the living room, noticing Gracie sat on the floor with a few of her toys and a movie playing on the TV right in front of her, not noticing me as I walked passed her and up the stairs.

My stomach twisted as I gulped down the anxiety creeping up my throat, daring to make me sick again. I swallowed it down, pushing open the bathroom door and leaning over the sink, not knowing how long I could control the feeling. I could hear my fathers stump up the stairs, so I turned on the sink and sat on the toilet seat with the lid down, pressing my face into my hands. The door rattled and I jumped, knocking over a few bottles of perfume and deodorant off the back of the toilet. “Yeah?” I screamed over the water, rushing to pick everything up.

"Are you okay in there?" One of them screamed. I fumbled to turn the water off, now knocking over the cup that held my tooth brush and tooth paste. "Lena?"

"Yeah! I’m fine, I’m just-" I cleaned the mess, trying not to make anymore noise. "I’ll be right out."

"Okay, come down stairs. Your father and I want to speak with you about something." I heard them leave. I took a deep breath and turned the sink off, closing my eyes as I rest my hand on the knob before twisting it and opening the door. I took light steps going downstairs, trying to hear if my parents were talking, but all I heard was silence and saw them sat on the couch looking straight ahead, blank expressions as I turned the corner. They glanced over upon my entrance, giving me a concerned look, worried almost. I felt my heart beat three times fast.

"Sit down, Lena." I took a seat across from them, looking down at my hands in my lap because I knew I couldn’t back out of this conversation, I wanted to cry. I felt my eyes begin to water as my father spoke. "Today at work I received a call from Emmica’s mother, Tiffany."

I stared blankly over at him, tilting my head to the side and it was in that moment I could tell he knew that I’d known she’d called. And that I knew why. “You caused a scene at school.”

"I didn’t cause a sce-"

My father stood, pointing a finger at me. “Do not lie to me, Lena Michelle!”

I flinched, chewing on the inside of my bottom lip, completely overwhelmed by all of this. He saw the pain in my eyes, but chose to ignore them after a second of guilt. I watched his expressions change rapidly as he turned to my other father, beginning to shout at him, now.

"Aren’t you going to say anything? Aren’t you her father too?" But he only stayed silent, shaking his head as he got up to leave. My father followed him, arguing in his ear as he picked up his coat and keys, about to open the door.

"Daddy!" Gracie screamed from behind him, coming out of our den. He turned towards her, picking her up as she held onto her blanket, rubbing the sleep of her nap from her eyes, clearly getting woken up too soon from the yelling. She must have only gotten about ten minutes of sleep, considering she was just awake when I’d gotten home from school. He kissed her cheek, looking straight into my fathers eyes, then over at me for a long five seconds, before walking out of the door with my sister. I couldn’t breathe as I heard the only words my father could give me in this moment before he went to his bedroom.

"This is your fault."
***
The clock on my bedside table read 2:03am before I actually moved for the first time since my dad left hours before, getting out of bed to use the bathroom. I knew there was no way I would sleep tonight, leaving my bedroom light on when I came back in. I resulted to my desk, figuring I could finish off some homework until I got tired. My pencil scribbled lazily over blank lines and spaces, not really paying attention to what I was actually doing until the tip of it snapped from me pushing down so hard. I reached into my bag, pulling out a pencil sharpener, slipping my finger over the bottom of it before I put the pencil in and accidentally cutting myself. I dropped it as i felt the coolness of my blood drip down my hand.

I pressed my finger to my mouth, sucking at the cut between my lips and grabbed my tissue box to stop the bleeding. After a few minutes, I checked to see the damage. It sunk deep into the tip of my finger, but the bleeding at stopped. I went into the kitchen to grab a band aid and tried to get back into my homework, but no matter how hard I tried, my eyes went back to the pencil sharpener. I grabbed it, turning it over in my hands and noticing the sharp edge of the razor, my mind replaying how it cutting my finger had taken my mind off of things.

What a crazy way to think, what was I doing? I placed it down, walking back down the stairs into the kitchen to grab my dads screw driver. Before I knew it, I was on my floor, trying to get the screws out of the sharpener. I remember a girl in my grade last year use to take the razors out of her pencil sharpeners, she would always have cuts all over her arms, from her wrist to her elbow. Everyone wondered why she did it, but never payed much attention to it until the teachers wouldn’t allow her to use the sharpeners anymore and then she moved away.

The razor dropped into my lap, my blood staining the edge. I picked it up and memorized it, wondering if I’d actually do it. Last year when people talked about the girl who cut herself, I was so confused as to why someone would do a thing like that. But I was becoming to understand why. Maybe it wouldn’t work for me, maybe it wouldn’t take my mind off of things. I’d just do it this once, and then put the razors back into my sharpener and forget it ever happened. I slipped it between my fingers and pulled up the sleeve of my shirt.

I grazed the top layer of my skin with it, but nothing happened. A red line appeared for only a second so I pressed it to the middle of my wrist again, dipping it in deeper, watching blood pour out over my arm and onto my floor. I swore under my breath, throwing tissues around my arm quickly and pressed them down into the cut. My blood soaked through them all and I began to panic, taking more tissues now and giving it more pressure. I didn’t move for 10 minutes before lifting to check. Finally, it had stopped and I let my breath out.

I went to the bathroom, where I wrapped toilet paper around my arm repeatedly and pulled my sleeve down, just in case it started bleeding again. When I returned to my room, I realized how tired I was, so I cleaned all the tissues up, throwing them in my trash can with new ones over them, covering the bloody ones. I picked up the razors from the sharpener, hiding them under my mattress, deciding not to put them back in just yet. And without thinking, I fell into my bed, crawling under mt blankets and falling asleep quickly.

***
I woke with blood seeping through the sleeve of my shirt, rushing to rip it off over my head, seeing that it was only dried blood that must have bled through over night.I wrapped new toilet paper over it and putting on a new shirt, realizing my sleeved looked a bit clumpy. I threw my jacket on over it, solving the problem. I pulled my jeans on and grabbed my back pack, rushing downstairs. Both my fathers were in the kitchen.

"Dad," I said, surprised. "When did you get home?"

"Early this morning." He mumbled, not looking up from his paper. I grabbed a waffle out of the toaster, eating it quickly before asking when we were leaving since he decided he’d drive me to school now. "You can walk. I’ll be late." He got up from the table, wiping food from Gracie’s mouth. I looked at him confused, but walked out of the door anyway. Across the street, I noticed the couple who’d just moved in, waving politely at them. They looked shocked to see someone acknowleging them, waving back. I smiled and walked onto my side walk.

With my head down, I walked to school, walking straight in and down the hall, bumping right into Emmica. “Oh, look who it is. I thought after my mom talked to your dad that they’d want to just get rid of you since they found out. Looks like I’ll have to do it myself.” The girls behind her laughed. I became afraid, pushing passed them and heading straight into homeroom, hiding my face in my hair and leaning over my desk. I did this pretty much throughout the entire school day, rushing to my locker and into my class, trying to avoid contact with anyone, scared of more threats. On my way out, Ayson caught up with me.

"Please, just go away." I told him as kids poured out of the school behind us.

"I want to talk to you, Lena." He pulled at my arm and I pulled away quickly, wanting to cry as the cut on my arm stung from his touch. "Are you okay?"

"I have to go, Ayson. I just…" I started to walk, looking behind my shoulder at him. "I’m sorry."

The look on his face made me want to kill myself, I’d hurt him. But I couldn’t talk to him here, everyone would huddle around us and things could get bad, he had to understand that. He had to understand that people of a different sex couldn’t be seen in public together like that. I ran all the way home, hoping not to be stopped by someone from school, going up my driveway and bumping into my dad. “Hi.”

"Where are you rushing too? Did something happen at school again, Lena? You can’t be doing this, just over some stupid boy." He walked to his car. "You should get a girlfriend, all of this would stop."

I looked at the ground. “Where are you going?”

"The store, getting things for dinner. Go up to your room and get your homework done." He pulled out of the driveway and sped down the street. I made my way upstairs, dropping everything in my doorway and reaching underneath my mattress and finding the razors right where I’d left them. Without thinking, I yanked down my sleeve, pressing it against my skin, just not as hard this time. I created five jagged slashes down my arm, they bled but not for as long. I watched the blood drip down my arm, over the razor I held between my fingers.

I realized what I’d just done and began to cry, placing my face in my blood stained hands, not stopping until I felt the blood on my arm stop dripping. I cleaned myself, pulling my sleeve down and hiding my razors again. I reached into my backpack, taking out my homework and trying to concentrate as my hands shook.

I winced as hot water hit my thighs, but took the pain rather than moving out of the way. I stood under the shower, holding my breath as the force of the water hit my face, looking down and running my fingers over the scabs, cuts and scars that covered my thighs. The burning dulled away, something I've gotten use to over the passed two years. I shook my head, angry at myself for how long it has been and at how I've dealt with all the pain I've been through. I swore to myself in 7th grade I'd only do it once, but I couldn't stop after that.

I stepped out the shower, hugging a towel around my body tightly and drying off my hair with another. I made a quick run from the bathroom to my room, careful not to bump into anyone so they wouldn't catch scars covering every part of me. I closed and locked the door behind me, trying to steady my beating heart and dropping the towel, standing in front of my mirror. So many cuts ran along the insides of both my arms, tiny slashes made across my thighs, words carved into my stomach. I thought of how quickly this habit escalated after I started.

Today is my first day back to school after winter break, and I gladly put on jeans and a long sleeve shirt, and a hoodie on top of that. I've learned to deal with heavy clothing, afraid my body would be shown to anyone who glanced my way, not that they did. I made my way out the door without breakfast and onto the sidewalk. I looked across the street, noticing the couple who'd only moved in just that short two years ago, were now moved out and replaced with two happily married wives and their three year old son. The other couple got kicked out.

My father has continued to avoid contact with me since the day he stormed out of the house, as for my other father, he wont let me hear the end of how I put their marriage on the line for a boy and that I should have a girlfriend. Every time I open my mouth, he makes whatever conversation about how I don't have a girlfriend. I got a bad grade. It must be because I'm slacking because I'm not happy with the face that I don't have a girlfriend. I stay in my room on weekends. I could be with my girlfriend. I eat a certain food. I could eat it with my girlfriend. Everything I say or do revolves around me not having a girlfriend to him.

I try. I really do try to make my fathers happy, but I can't figure out how. And even if I wanted a girlfriend, no one at my school even looks at me. Except for Ayson. He smiles at me from the end of my block.

"Hey," He mumbles, trying to reach for my hand. "I missed you over break."

"You know we can't do this now." I pull my hand away and shove it in my pocket. "And its not like you didn't sneak through my window almost every night."

He smiled again, dimples and all. "That's true."

We begin to walk and take on the stares from our neighbors. "I have to go, but I need to talk to you later after school, alright? By the tree?" He started to lightly jog ahead of me and I nodded. We usually met up behind this huge maple tree in the park, we would sit there and talk for hours, be alone and away from anyone who would judge us. It was our tree. Our time.

I smiled as I headed closer towards the school building, excited to meet him there later. Over the past two years, we've formed sort of a relationship. Of course, no one knows about it but us, because my fathers would kill me and so would his. He looked back once more before I saw him walk into the school, he looked sad and I figured his dad was mad at him for something, because he always was. I decided I'd talk to him later about it. I slumped into my hood, covering my face and looking down at the floor as I walked the halls to my classes.

Over time, I figured it was best to keep a low profile after so many threats, but it didn't stop the pushes and pokes and nasty notes pinned to my locker. Everyday I hope it will go away, people would give up and get bored with it, but it only got worse since I started high school. There were more kids and the kids from my middle school didn't mind spreading around my reputation like a forest fire. I got glares as I slumped in my chair in home room. I leaned back and picked at the skin around my thumb nail. A guy behind me poked my shoulder and I turned around.

"My cousin came out last year and moved away. No one knows where she went and we don't care." He whispered, leaning forward. His friend beside him joined in.

"Oh you mean like what she's going to do?" Girls to my left side laughed quietly and I suddenly had several pairs of eyes on me. I slumped down in my chair even more, praying for today to go by quickly so I would be closer to seeing Ayson later. Did they not understand the feeling that boys have for boys and girls have for girls is the same as a girl having feelings for a boy? How could I make them understand? I've tried, but I always get a slap in my face when they somehow prove me wrong. So I stopped trying to convince them the truth.

Suddenly, I get this strange feeling of fear that its not the truth, and that something is wrong with me. I try to gulp down the feeling that's stuck in my throat when I begin to hear more and more chatter all around me, more eyes staring down on me. I lean over into my notebook and begin scribbling in more to a draft of a poem I'd been working on this week. Words come from my head and through my pencil, onto the paper and I almost finish it within minutes.

I go to the first page and then flip through the rest of them, realizing I've filled this notebook almost completely, leaving one last page for the rest of my current poem. I found myself writing whenever I couldn't handle whatever was happening around me, and it helped no matter what I would write about. I felt a wave of calmness wash over me as I scribbled a few more words on the last page, completing the poem and the notebook. I made a mental note to pick one up after school before I meet with Ayson. I'm sure he would understand me being five minutes late, he knows and supports how much my writing means to me.

The day passes by pretty quickly, and I'm about to make my way towards my English class when Emmica stops me as I pass the bathrooms. "Hey," She begins and I try to continue on, but she pulls at my shoulder. "Lena, stop."

She turns me to face her and I don't look at her, but behind her. I can no longer hold her gaze, I can't stand it anymore to see her and not see my best friend. To not see the pain I'm in just by touching my hand or noticing my expressions. Or maybe she does, but just doesn't care.

"Are you still hung up over Ayson?" She turns her head to try to get some kind of contact with me.

"Why does it matter?" I resort to my feet, which I often do.

"Come on, Len. Don't you get tired of this? Don't you want to be normal?" I felt her tugging on the strands of my heart, trying to pull them loose and a lump in my throat formed as I finally met her gaze. "You think I liked losing my best friend? To this?"

I couldn't believe she was blaming me, like it was my fault she didn't bother to stay around, and ignored me for the past two years and when she wasn't ignoring me, she was talking shit about me, talking shit to me. Her eyes softened. "I'm not happy with some of the things I've said to you and about you, okay?" I nodded.

"But maybe we could have patched things up if you would have gotten over this long ago, Lena. People would have forgotten, you could have gotten a girlfriend like the rest of us were starting too. Hell, Len. You could have been popular. You would have been if you hung around with me."

"What if I didn't want to be popular?" She looked at me, confused for a moment before speaking again.

"Wouldn't anything be better than this?" She walked passed me, making her way down the hall.

***

I thought a lot about what Emmica said on my walk to the store, wondering if people would have forgotten if I'd just have blended in. If I would have just gotten myself a girlfriend like my dad always wanted, so it would all go away. I went to the back of the drug store where the notebooks were, noticing they've stalked up on different designs and I reminded myself not to nerd out in public. An old lady eyed me when I smiled down at a blue one, the word "Inspire" written in different fonts across the cover and grabbed an exact same one but in a different color. "You gonna use all of those, miss?"

"I plan too." I said, shrugging off my hood. She smiled and walked away with three pairs of black sharpies and a can of corn. I pushed my eyebrows together at her choice of items, turning back to look at the other notebooks when the ones I was holding fell out my hands. I turned to see who'd pushed it out of my hands, it was a boy from school called Emmit. He was a year above me and pretty much bothered anyone in his path, so you can only guess how much shit he gave me. I avoided eye contact and bent down to pick up the books only to be pushed down to the floor.

I dropped to my knees with a thud, my chin hitting a shelf on my way down. I gathered the notebooks the best I could and chose to ignore whatever kind of attention he was to give me, standing and beginning to walk back towards the front of the store, but one of his friends grabbed my sleeve, pulling me back and shoving me roughly against the shelves, causing me to drop the contents in my hands again. His two, very large friends held each of my arms down as Emmit shook his head and cracked his knuckles, coming towards me.

I tried to wiggle out of their grip but I wasn't strong enough. He leaned in, lips wet against my ear as he whispered, "Queer," Just like he had in 7th grade. "This is for being so f*ing disgusting." He said before he punched me right below my ribs and I whimpered, trying to fall to the ground but his army held me up. "This is for f*ing Ayson and thinking no one knows about it."

What? People know? I thought right before his knee came up into my stomach twice in a row and I felt like I was going to vomit, the breath getting kicked out of me. Literally. "And this is for-" He started, gripping onto my wrist and I tried to pull away.

"No, f. Stop."

"-being such an emo little bitch. F*ing pu**y." He let my arm go limp at my waist and his fist collided with my upper lip and some of my nose. It began to bleed down my chin and neck and they dropped me and ran as soon as someone came into the isle. A woman ran to me and shuffled to get a tissue out her purse and I suddenly realized it was Emmica's mother. I groaned out her name and she gave me a good look, realizing who I was before standing.

"Oh God," She muttered, walking straight away from me. I began to cry, stuffing the tissue she gave me into my nose to try and stop the bleeding. I stuffed it into my pocket and hurried to check out, ignoring the cashiers weird looks as she noticed the fresh bruises and cry blood on my nose. I walked all the way to the park and found me and Ayson's tree, making my way behind it to find him, his back against the tree trunk, doodling into his sketch book.

"You're late- WHAT HAPPENED?" He exclaimed, seeing my face.

"Emmit and a couple others...I stopped by the store." I lifted my bag to show him. "They...they know about us."

"That's sorta what I wanted to talk about." He started.

"What?" I felt my body start to go numb.

"My brother found out...and I can't risk him telling my parents. He already beat the shit out of me, Len."

"So, you're breaking up with me..."

"I have too. I'm sorry." He got up, not even saying goodbye and heading towards his house. I sat there, feeling completely alone. Numb. Anxious, about who knew. And now I didn't have Ayson to talk to or confide in. I stayed there until about 8 o'clock, walking home in the dark and ignoring my fathers arguing as I walked through the door. My feet hurt from all the walking, I took the long way home and I could barley make it up the stairs. When I got to my bedroom, I collapsed on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

So much came down on me at once and I took out my blades without thinking twice, running to my bathroom and locking the door behind me. I pushed up my sleeve and dug the blade into my skin, a little too deep and held my arm over the sink, blood splattering the counter as I shuffled and tried to reach the toilet paper on the other side of the room. I wrapped it around the cuts, pulling my sleeve over the best bandage I could make with it and cleaning the mess and leaving to go back to my room when my dad came up the stairs and stopped me, grabbing onto my arm. "Len, hi."

I stuffed the blade in my back pocket and forced myself not to wince at his touch around my open wombs, hoping me didn't feel the blood that was starting to seep through my shirt. "Hi, dad. What's wrong?"

He looked at me sternly. "Are you missing something?"

I went numb, knowing what he was talking about. "Uh-"

"I found three blades on the back of the toilet. I threw them away but the next time I find more, I'll have to put you somewhere where they can handle kids like you." His nails were digging into my skin, and okay. He obviously knew I'd cut right there.

"Dad let go." I whined, and he shoved me against the wall, causing our family picture to fall. "You're ruining this family." We heard my other father coming up the stairs and he let go of me, shuffling into his room. I ran back to mine and grabbed tissues, blocking the bleeding from his nails digging into the cuts. He'd only put his hands on me twice these past couple years, but he'd been showing more anger towards me lately. It seems like I can't handle anything anymore, and it makes me want to die...