text: Chloe Knox I Hate You (On-Hold) Life of an Emo Dedication - to my circle of BESTIES: Hannah Stertzel, Peyton Keller, and last but not least Danielle Zubar. I love my little threesome for all eternity and hope that our friendship will always prolong through the drama and depression that comes along with life. 
   
   
   Prologue: Who Am I ?  
   
  "Who am I?" 
  That is the one question I never thought I'd be asking myself. 
  When you're little, life seems so carefree and easy. Everything was fun, nothing was boring. The whole world was new and exciting. Every girl was a princess and every guy was a super hero. Everything was perfect, when I was little. Of course there were the days where I'd still get into trouble. There were the days were I broke my father's C.D.s. There was a day were I got in trouble for trying to make kool-aid and scrambled eggs on the floor. There was even a day that I had decided to through the cat out the window! 
  ...But life was still easy. Life was still a fairytale. And now... 
  My heart ached and my gut felt like a pit of nothingness as I sat on my bed, tears streaming down my face to the point where I couldn't see clearly. Instead of my normal room with the splattered walls and the soft quilt, all I saw was blur...just like my life.  
  When I was little I used to be confident. I used to believe in God. Now, I've lost my way, and I can't seem to find it. It was almost as if my blurred vision was a symbol. It symbolized the way I saw my life.  
  When I was little I thought I had everything figured out. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life, and no one could ever, EVER stop me. Now, my life is a chaotic mess that has slipped through my fingers. I am no longer in control. I'm helpless and alone. I'm a victim of my own pathetic life. 
  Do you remember the days when you were little? The days that you could be so innocent? The days that you would promise things to your parents that you were sure you could keep? 
  Me? I can perfectly.  
  I remember the days that I'd get so mad at my dad for smoking. I remember the days that the smoke from the single cigarette made me choke and want to vomit. I remember the day that I said, "Daddy, I'm never gonna smoke!" 
  I remember the days where I'd roll my eyes at the girls that starved themselves to "fit in". I remember the days where I'd roll my eyes at the popular kids, because "I'll never be mean like them." 
  I remember when I said, "I'll never drink." 
  I remember when I said, "I'll never cut myself." 
  I remember when I said, "I'll never say 'I hate you'." 
  When I was little life was carefree and easy. Everything was fun, nothing was boring. The whole world was new and exciting. I was a princess. When I was little I thought I had everything figured out. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life, and no one could ever, EVER stop me. 
  ...and I was stupid for thinking I'd keep those promises. I was stupid for thinking that life would never change. I was stupid for thinking that I'd always be the perfect little princess, that my mother and father loved... 
  So I look down at my bloody wrist, my blurred vision only now starting to clear up (Not because I'm not sad anymore, but because I've cried so much that I feel dried up. I sob and sob, but no more tears come out). I think of my life, my family, my friends...and of the pain...and I ask myself, "Who am I?" 
  The truth is...I don't know!  
   
   
   
   Chapter One: Maladjusted  
   
  Tanya P.O.V. 
  I sit in middle of the shower with my head tilted up toward the water. A single tear rolled over my cheek when I blinked. My heart pounded, my breathes quickened, and my bare body shook.  
  I knew that what I was doing was wrong. And to be quite honest, I’m not even sure that it helped heal my feelings of heart break or hurting. It probably didn’t. It just numbed me. It numbed my emotions of betrayal and my never ending emotions of self-hate. It took away all my worries and regrets. It seemed to wash away my sins…for the time being, that is…and then all I had to focus on was… 
  I held back a whimper by biting my bottom lip as I pressed the clean, sharp, and silver razor blade into my wrist and sliced the pale flesh open. Crimson red blood immediately began to trickle from the thin, yet deep, cut on my wrist. It tickled at first as the blood oozed its way from my cut and down my arm…but then the pain kicked in. The stinging aching pain that no person would ever imagine could come from such a tiny slit, yet I was grateful. I was grateful for the pain that made me forget my so called friends and all the soreness I had ever felt. And my mother? Oh, that bitch!  
  The moment I felt my anger and pain begin to rekindle I pressed the edge of the razor blade into my flesh again, breaking the skin and making another deep cut that bled onto the shower floor. 
  I repeated this over, and over, and over, until I felt no emotion at all. It took about half an hour, but eventually I was carefree. It didn’t matter to me, that I no longer had any friends. It no longer mattered to me that I was failing school. And it no longer mattered that my mother was a complete and utter a-hole. She didn’t deserve me or my love. She doesn’t deserve my father, or my brother, or anyone…Nope! Guess I’m not done! 
  The blade again made contact with my flesh only this time I pressed it into a cut I had already made. It increased the pain by a million, but it also took my thoughts off of my mother. Instead I focused on the massive pain, not the emotional but the physical pain.  
  I couldn’t go to school all upset over my mother and life. I had to at least look like I didn’t give a shit. I had to at least look like I was handling everything fine. I couldn’t go to school looking like the complete emotional wreck that I was, or else everyone at school will start calling me “emo” and “depressed”. It might be the truth, but it doesn’t hurt any less than a horrible rumor would. Besides, they all talk about me enough as it is. 
  “Good morning, sweetie.” My father said, his voice soft and gentle, when I walked downstairs. 
  “Morning daddy,” I mumbled as I took a seat at the bar. My father placed a bowl of cereal in front of me. It was Cookie Crisp; my favorite. I couldn’t hold back the smile. It was the little things that my father would do that put a smile on my face. He was the one person on this horrible planet I could stand…well, next to Nicole, my best friend. I just called her Nicki, though. 
  “Oh. My. God. Is that a smile I see?” my father teased with a big and charming smile. 
  I didn’t say anything as I plastered a fake (yet convincing) smile on my face. The sudden guilt that hit me in my stomach made me want to tell the truth to my father and say I’m sorry. I felt guilty for cutting myself, knowing that my father would be hurt tremendously if he found out. He loved me…then I heard my mother upstairs, and all my guilt went away as quickly as it had come. 
  “Tanya! Tanya! Get your ass up here! Get up here, right now!” 
  I looked over at my dad, who just looked at me with the same exact expression I probably had. His light blue eyes were scared and seemed worried. 
  I took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm down my beating heart. I knew what was going to happen. It happened almost every day at least once…you’d think I’d be used to it. That after awhile, her words just wouldn’t hurt anymore, that her screams and spats of hatred would mean nothing to me. And one day maybe they will. Maybe one day my mother won’t be able to hurt me…but for now, she got me! Right now, it was like I was my mother’s little voodoo doll. She pocked and prodded at me till I burst.  
  I walked upstairs to find my mother in the bathroom leaning over the sink with both hands clutching the counter top. Her knuckles were turning white, and for a moment I thought she was going to actually break the counter. 
  “Y-yes, mother?” 
  “Where the hell is my hairspray!?” 
  Really? Really? That’s what you look so pissed about? You can’t find your hairspray? Wtf? 
  “I don’t know,” I mumbled as my anger and annoyance grew. She always reacted. She never just took a step back, took in a deep breath, and thought…she just reacted. 
  Her eyes narrowed on me, the chocolate brown eyes of hers turning big and black with anger. She snapped her hand up next to my face, but she didn’t hit me. I still recoiled, though. Who wouldn’t? Her hand was inches from my face, “Don’t you dare talk to me in that tone of voice.” 
  “What tone? All I said was that—“ 
  “You said ‘I don’t know’!” my mother said as she sighed and crossed her arms and did what she thought was a good imitation of me; nose scrunched, lips turned to a frown, and she rolled her eyes. 
  “I didn’t do that—“ 
  “Oh just shut up! Where’s my hairspray?” 
  “Mom! I don’t know!” I felt so angry; I could feel my body radiating heat. Why couldn’t she just except that if I said I didn’t know, I didn’t? Why was it that everything always had to be me? 
  “Well, it had to be you or your sister, and she said she didn’t touch it.” 
  Of course! Leah was the innocent angel! As usual! 
  “Well it wasn’t me! I don’t even use hairspray, mom!” 
  “Whatever! Get out of my face!” 
  That last sentence really hurt. She said it all the time to me, yet it was the one that hurt the most. She always said it when she was hitting her breaking point, when she was fed up of talking or even looking at me. And every time she said it, she was interrupting me. She’d never let me finish what I was saying. She’d never let me explain or tell my side of the story. She’d always just assume; Tanya! Tanya! Tanya! 
  “But mom! You’re not even listening to me! You’re just—“ 
  “I said get out of my face!” my mother screamed as she pushed my shoulder making me stumble backward over my own feet. I fell on my butt, in the middle of the hall way and then she slammed the door shut mumbling, “Fucking ungrateful child! She never knows when to shut that fucking mouth of hers!” 
  Tears threatened my vision, turning it to a slight blur. But I held them back, grabbed my school stuff, and went into the garage to grab my bike.  
  No way was I going to wait here for my mother to go on and on for a good hour about how terrible of a daughter I was. I wasn’t going to sit in my room and cry over what she said about me. She doesn’t love me, so I don’t love her. She doesn’t deserve my respect….it’s a good thing I have some more razor blades in my locker. I’m going to need them. 
   
   
   
   Chapter Two: Naïve  
   
  Tanya's P.O.V. 
  For those of you who are either too oblivious or in your own perfect “La La Land” to know or even realize it, girls are bitches! 
  Twenty-four-seven it’s either non-stop gossip or incessant whines about their own appearance. 
  “Did you see what that girl was wearing today?” 
   “God, I hate my hair.” 
  “Her boobs look so fake and disproportionate. They have to be implants.” 
   “I look so ugly today.”  
  “Ew! Someone hasn’t heard of the invention of soap and warm water.” 
  “Awe, I broke a nail.”  
  “She actually went all the way with him? O!M!G! What a slut!” 
  “Does this make me look fat?” 
  And what pisses me off is the people you here saying this is usually one of the popular girls. You know; the type of girl that has perfect hair, with a gorgeous face that guys drool over? The type of girl that’s parents are rich enough to get her a pedicure every week and is as skinny as a pool cue? 
  I mean, seriously! Just shut up! There is more to life then dating and prom, and there’s definitely more problems in life then a broken nail and one bad hair day! 
  I mean, yeah! I complain about the same things—well not the broke nail thing since I barely have any. I chew the tips to bits. It’s just a habit I have.  
  And about the whole dissing on people thing? What the hell’s up with that? Like, seriously!  
  Honestly, if I see a girl walking down the street with nappy hair that stinks or if I see a twelve year old in Wally-World (a.k.a. Walmart), yeah! I’d probably judge. Every does. It’s human nature. But at least I have the decency to keep my thoughts to myself. Whatever happened to the saying ‘if you’ve got nothing nice to say, don’t say it’? Maybe I should teach that quote to my mother… 
  Anyway, girls are bitches and that’s why I usually hang out with guys. My only and best girl friend is Nicole (a.k.a. Nicki) Rivers. We’ve been friends since the beginning of the fifth grade. She tried to take my lunch money, so I punched her in the left boob and BAM! Best friends for life! No matter what kind of day, even after a crying or cutting fit she can make me laugh and smile and have a good time. It’s almost like I have two lives or two different personalities. When I’m at home with my mother and my homework, I’m depressed. But with Nicki, I’m fine. I’m just me….and that’s great because the more and more I’m with my mother, it seems like the more and more I lose of myself. 
  But as much as I love Nicki I hate her—not literally! I’m just bummed—for ditching me. I’m at lunch sitting by myself just doodling counting down the seconds that Nicki is gone. I hope and wish for her to come back from the music room quickly, but I swear she’s like a snail, or molasses, or something. 
  “Hey!” 
   I jumped at the sudden familiar voice coming from my side. I was so engrossed with my drawing that I hadn’t even noticed Brandon take a seat next to me. 
  I looked at him, his brown eyes curious. 
  "What do you want?" I asked as I squinted at him in irritation. Brandon? He was just like every other good-looking guy in school...he's a dick! He thinks he's so hot, and cool, and that no girl can resist him It's nauseating.  
  "Nothing. Just wondering why you're not with my sister. Usually you two are joined at the hip." Oh yeah, and I forgot to tell you, Brandon is Nicki's older brother. 
  "Your sister ditched me to talk to Mrs. Reinart about her violin practice after school today." 
  "Ah," he mumbled with an understanding nod. I rolled my eyes at him and sighed aloud, hoping that would be enough to make him go away. I don't like Brandon that much, if you haven't all ready noticed. 
  After an awkward moment of silence I figured I'd just ignore him and go back to my drawing, so I did. I picked up my pencil and began adding texture to the drawing, "What you drawing?" 
  I glared at Brandon, "What do you care?" 
  "I'm just trying to be nice." he said as he put his hands up in an innocent gesture. No way in hell did I by it. 
  I scoffed, "And since when are you nice to me?" 
  He squinted at me, confused, "When have I not been nice to you?" 
  "Are you just going to keep answering my questions with another question?" 
  "I don't know, am I?" I said with a raised brow, purposely. Just to tick me off, he had to come up with the lamest question. 
  "Well whenever I'm at your hanging out with Nicki, you barely ever say hi. Last time I checked ignoring people isn't being nice." I said and went back to my drawing. 
  There was a moment of silence, and I kept cussing in my head when I found myself wishing he'd end it...he did, "Well, I said hi today...what you drawing?" 
  "Just stuff." I said with a sigh. 
  Brandon moved closer to me to try and peer over my shoulder, so I quickly slammed my sketchpad shut, "What do you want Brandon?" 
  "I want to see what you're drawing." he said with a smirk as he reached a hand out for my sketch pad. I quickly slid it out of reach across the lunch table and glared at him, "Well too bad. You're not gonna." 
  He looked down at the filthy tiled school floor and began to fake whimper. I couldn't help but laugh, "You are so pathetic."  
  But what he did worked. His little fake pout, caught me off guard, and so while I was giggling at him he tour the notebook from my hands. 
  "Hey! Give it back!" I yelped as I reached for my sketchpad. Brandon only smirked some more and stood to make sure I couldn't reach it. Why did he have to be so tall? 
  I stood up and tried to jump for it, but he was a good few inches taller then me and really fast too. He'd just switch hands. 
  I looked around and saw that a lot of people were watching us, and my cheeks immediately began to blush. I couldn't not try and get my book back. A lot of personal stuff was in that thing.  
  And then I saw Brandon's friends in the corner of the lunch room laughing their asses off. I knew it! He wasn't being nice! He was just trying to crack up his friends by making a fool out of me! 
  I stopped jumping and gave Brandon my fiercest glare, "Give! Me! My! Sketchbook! Now!" 
  "Why? What's in here that you don't want me to see, huh?" 
  Well let's see; there are my personal thoughts, my emo and depressing drawings of crying woman and dead babies! Nothing out of the ordinary! 
  "Give it back, you fucking prick!" 
  Brandon's smirk grew into a smile, "Ooooh! I get it! You've got pictures of me in here, don't you?" 
  I blushed, but my anger didn't go away. Not even a bit, "Yeah! Tons! There's even a nude drawing!" I growled sarcastically. 
  Now he obviously knew I was being sarcastic, yet he still felt like making me feel like crap! Why? Who knows! "Oh yeah! Let's see one, shall we." he said as he opened the book and flipped through a couple of pages. He squinted at them, his smile immediately disappearing. Was he confused? Surprised? Disgusted? 
  Then I saw his lips. They were moving the slightest bit, but nothing was coming out. He was reading! Hell no! He was not reading that! 
  Panic arouse in me. My heart began to beat, my legs were shaking, and my whole body was heating in embarrassment. Now he was going to tell everyone about me. He's was going to tell everyone how horrible I thought my life was and how I cut...No! I won't let him! 
  I reached for the book, but this time he caught my wrist instead of pulling the book out of my reach. I tried to pull away as I groaned in dislike, "Let me go! What are you doing?" 
  With his free hand he slammed the book shut and put it on top of the lunch table, and then he yanked me closer to him. I tried to pull away again, but eventually gave up. Brandon he hated football, but he LOVED hockey...and he was definitely way stronger than any football player in the high school, and definitely stronger than me. 
  He looked at me; his eyes so dark they seemed black, just like my mother's had turned this morning. Only he didn't seem angry. Surprised? Maybe even a bit worried? But not angry. I looked back at him, and cursed at myself when I began to cry. He knew. Oh god, he knew! 
  He looked from my face, and then to my wrist which he held in his hand. Slowly and gently he pushed up the long sleeve to my shirt to reveal my freshly scarred wrist. There were at least five; thin and jagged strips of scarred flesh ran across my wrist, plus a bunch of red lines that were now a bit puffy from the rubber band I used most of the time during school. It didn't numb me as good as the razor blades, but they were easier to get away with during class. You can't exactly sit in the middle of Algebra and cut yourself to the point of bleeding and not get noticed. 
  His thumb brushed over my bruised skin, and I winced the slightest bit. The rubber band bruises still hurt a bit. The scars not so much, but they weren't completely healed either, “Why would you—” 
  I need him in between the legs, grabbed my sketch pad, and ran out of the cafeteria before the bell rang and before he could ask anything. I ignored his moans of pain, and I didn't care that I'd most likely get in trouble since the whole entire school saw me do it...I didn't even look back. I just wanted to get out of there. The whole school didn't need to see me cry like the pathetic two year old I was. 
  He was just like my mother. He didn't care about me, only wanted to have his nose in everyone’s business. 
   
   
   
   Chapter Three: Prince Charming, Superheroes, Guardian Angels, Fairy Godmother’s, and Me  
   
  Brandon’s P.O.V. 
  My guy friends ran over to me the moment Tanya had decided to knee me in my downstairs are. Boy it hurt like a mother fucker! 
  No girl as ever done that to me before! I’ve never even been hit there during a sport or anything! Never! So when she…god! It freakin hurts! It stings, there’s this non-stop ringing in my left ear, and guess what my friends are doing to help me….NOTHING! Their just laughing their freakin asses off and are rolling on the floor imitating me. 
  I moaned in pain as I held my junk just hoping the pain would stop…or at least decrease…then I thought of Tanya…but not Tanya in general…her book. 
  I could still see the perfect drawing in my head. It was amazing and beautiful, yet depressing and sad at the same time.  
  It had been a drawing of this girl…it was a portrait, a self portrait! Tanya was sitting in a corner, her black hair dangling in her face. She was wearing a huge black sweatshirt and underwear and was clutching her knees to her chest in the most vulnerable and sad position I had ever seen. Most of the background was nothing but scribbles of black that were closing in on her, as if she were suffocating…but there was one strand of light that shined through the darkness and lit up only the slightest part of her face. Only part of one eye was visible in the picture, past her hair and the darkness, and one single black tear was falling over her cheek…and I’ll never forget what it said at the bottom of the page in perfect cursive letters: I’m ugly inside and out! I’m hopeless! I’m alone! I’m no longer a princess! There’s no such thing as Prince Charming! There’s no longer any Superheroes or Guardian Angels! I have no Fairy God Mother! I’m just a sad, lonely, pathetic, clumsy, pest! I’m in head deep, lost! Too deep and too lost to be helped by any Prince Charming! Any Superhero! Any Guardian Angel! Or any Fairy God Mother! I’m not even worth it! 
   
  And under this passage of writing was a knife dripping blood that zigzagged through the words! The heartbreaking words of poor Tanya! 
  What was wrong with her? Why did she feel this way? 
  How does she not know how beautiful she is? How can she say she’s ugly, inside AND out? How can she not have hope? How far deep and lost can this poor girl? How can she believe that she’s not worth being saved? That she’s not worth anyone’s attention, or love? She’s smart, beautiful, talented…why doesn’t she see that? 
  I ignored the pain, and I ignored my obnoxious friends’ laughter and watched Tanya’s back as she ran out of the cafeteria her long black hair flowing behind her. I hadn’t meant to hurt her. I didn’t realize that what I did make her upset. I didn’t even realize she was hurting in general. I had always just thought she was one of those shy and quiet girls. 
  Well…now I knew why she never wore short sleeves. Know I knew why when ever I’d see her at the pool over the summer, she’d never actually swim. She’s just lie under a tree with her nose in that sketch pad of hers, despite how many times Nicki would try to convince her to hop in. Now I knew everything, and I was going to fix it. 
  I might not be Prince Charming! I’m might not be a Superhero or a Guardian Angel! And I sure as hell ain’t no Fairy God Mother! But I will save her! I will help her! She can count on me! 
   
   
   
   Chapter Four: Denial  
   
  Tanya's P.O.V. 
  Ring! Ring! Ring! 
  “Hey.”  
  I looked from the black hole of text books and crumpled paper that I call a locker and to Brandon, my brows furrowed and my lips in a frown, “What do you want from me, Brandon! Seriously! Why can’t you just leave me alone?” 
  All day ever since lunch Brandon won’t leave me alone. He’s pretty much following me around like a lost puppy. So yeah, I’ll admit there’s a part of me that likes the attention. Who doesn’t want one of the hottest guys in school following them around…but him? He’s giving me attention for the wrong reasons. All he wants is to know about how horrible my life is so he can go to his friends and brag. 
  “Look, you need help, Tanya. You need to see a physiatrist or something—“ 
  I slammed my locker when my hand twitched to avoid slapping him in the face, “You don’t know me! You don’t know my life!” 
  “Well obviously it’s not that good if you’re cutting yourself!” 
  I went agape as I slapped him on the shoulder, “Will you shut up! I don’t want the whole school to know about it! If anyone finds out—if you tell anyone, everybody’s going to think I’m depressed.” I whispered aggressively as I looked up and down the halls at the hundreds of students at their lockers and chatting on and on about the latest gossip. My name was the last thing I wanted on everyone’s minds let alone lips. 
  “But you are depressed.” 
  “No I’m not,” I growled back through gritted teeth. 
  Brandon laughed in disbelief, “Oh, so you just hurt yourself for fun? Is that it? You get pleasure from hurting yourself?” 
  My cheeks grew warm as I felt the tears come. I tried to hold them back, but it was too late. I had let my guard slip for one second and now I couldn’t bring my wall back up. It was almost like they just faded away! I quickly looked to my side and into my locker, just to advert my stare. I might not like Brandon, but I still don’t want him to see me cry. If he notices—which I’m sure he already has—he’ll tell his friend’s that he made “Miss. Emo, cry!” 
  I took in a jagged breath as tears poured over my cheeks and down my neck. I began to sob, but quickly bit the inside of my cheek to muffle the noise! If anyone saw this, my life would be screwed, even more than it already was. 
  “Why do you do it, Tanya?” 
  After a moment of holding back my sobs and hiccups I whispered, “It numbs me.” 
  “I can’t hear you, Tanya.” Brandon said with a slight chuckle as he took a step closer to me so that no one could hear us talking. I took in another deep breath and turned to look at him. His brown eyes which I usually described as mud brown now seemed fluorescent with worry and concern. They were a caramel chocolate brown that for reasons that I don’t quite understand made me want to trust him.  
  I had already explained all this to Nicki, but she couldn’t do anything to help me. She’s never been in my position and so all she could do was say “It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Her support still wasn’t enough. Maybe…maybe all I needed was one more person to talk too. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as I thought he was. Maybe he did care. Maybe he would listen. 
  “It numbs me,” I repeated as a tear rolled down my face and into the crease of my lips. I could taste the nasty saltiness of it and I held back the erg to wipe all the wetness on my cheeks away. 
  “It-it numbs you? From what?” he asked as he leaned against the locker next to me. 
  “It numbs my emotional hurt…and forces me to focus on the physical hurt.”  
  Brandon squinted at me in confusion, “What do you mean?” 
  “When I…cut…it makes me forget about why I was upset…and instead…makes me feel the physical pain of the cut. It takes away the emotional pain….it numbs me,” I whispered with a shrug. 
  There was a long silence, and I just wanted to run away. Brandon was just staring at me with those chocolate—not mud—brown eyes, as I cried. He was just watching me, as more and more and more tears flowed, “That’s not good.” 
  I laughed through the pain and tears, “No shit, Sherlock.” 
  A small half-smile appeared on Brandon’s face. He raised his hand to my face and I innately flinched thinking he might hit me.  
  I watched his big callused hand hesitate, before finally brushing the tears off my right cheek. I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I just stood still, motionless, frozen.  
  “I can help you.” 
  “My best friend couldn’t help me…and I don’t even like you, so…” 
  Another small half-smile spread across Brandon’s face, “You can’t just hold it in and confide in one person—“ 
  “She’s my best friend! You? You ignored me my whole life, and now all of a sudden you want to help me? I barley know you! 
  “I didn’t realize that you were upset! I’m trying to help you! You can’t just ignore me!” 
  Ring! Ring! Ring! 
  Went the bell signaling the end of locker time and the beginning of last period. 
  “You want a bet!” I whispered as I pulled away from his hand and walked away to study hall. 
   
   
   
   Chapter Five: A Misunderstood Misunderstanding  
   
  Tanya's P.O.V. 
  “Hey, mom?” I asked into the school’s phone not sure of what she’d say. I hoped to god she’d say yes. I needed a girl’s night, just me and Nicki. I used to hang out with her all the time, but lately I haven’t been able too. Around her I’m happy, and I miss the happy me. 
  I heard a sigh from the other end of the phone that made the speaker crackle, “Yeah? What you want?” 
  “Nicki said that her parents wanted me over for dinner tonight, since I haven’t seen them in awhile?” 
  “Don’t beat around the bush, Tanya. Just fuckin ask what you want to ask?” My mother growled through the phone so loudly that the teacher walking by me heard it. I turned around to meet the skinny teacher’s face and I blushed as I mouthed a ‘hi’. They gave me a sympathetic look, and walked away. He didn’t ask me what was going on. He didn’t ask me if I was okay. He just gave me a look, and walked off never once looking back. 
  “Can I stay for dinner at Nicki’s?” I mumbled. 
  There was another loud sigh that showed evidence of her being annoyed, angry; you know the norm!  
  “How long are you gonna be there?” 
  “I don’t know, nine at the latest I guess.”  
  “Is that boy gonna be there?” 
  “Boy? What boy?” 
  “Don’t act dumb, you fucking smart-ass!” 
  I went agape as tears began to form. I wasn’t upset, I was just that angry. She always thought I was lying to her. She always thought I was purposely being a “bitch”. I seriously didn’t know what she was talking about, and for her to call me a smart-ass because of that? It’s so unfair! She calls me out on everything! Even stuff I never did, yet I can’t say one thing to offend her or I’m the one that’s gets slapped in the face! 
  “I’m not being a smart-ass. I’m just saying I don’t know who you’re talking about!” 
  “That Billie, guy? The girls brother?” 
  “You mean Brandon?” 
  “See? You do know him, you fucking ungrateful son of a—“  
  Tears began overflowing over my cheeks, my lips were quivering, my legs were shaking, and my heart was beating roughly against my chest. I couldn’t breathe a steady breath; every breath I took was shaky and uncomfortable to take in. 
  “Mom! I swear I’m not lying! I didn’t know who you were talking about until you said Nicki’s brother.” 
  “Whatever! He’s gonna be there?” 
  “Yeah, why wouldn’t he—“ 
  “And you still want to go?” 
  That caught me off guard. I was confused, and overwhelmed, and had no clue what she meant. What did she mean ‘You still want to go’? Why wouldn’t I? 
  “Yeah,” I said slowly not wanting to anger my mother, and knowing that if I said the wrong thing she’d flip. 
  “So you want to hang out with your friend even though a boy that’s older then you is going to be there? Are you crazy? What if he—“ 
  “Mom! No! Brandon, he might be full of himself but he’s nothing like that. Besides, it’s not like I’m sleeping over. It’s just dinner.” 
  “Yeah? That’s how they all are! You wanna know how I lost my virginity?” 
  “No, mom! Don’t!” 
  More tears began to pour from my eyes as a weird feeling hit me in my gut. I knew what was coming. I knew what she was going to say, and I didn’t want to hear it. I already knew the story, and she always used it against me. 
  “I was drugged, Tanya! I was drugged and raped! I awoke to a fucking douche bag climbing off of my naked body, and you want to know who it was? You want to know who fucking raped me?” 
  “Mom! Stop it!” I whispered through tears as my mother began to grow louder to the point where the lady (Miss. Ravens) in the office was staring at me. I didn’t like it. It made me feel so much more uncomfortable then I all ready was, “Please, I’m using the school phone. The teachers can hear everything your saying—“ 
  “I don’t give a fuck, what they hear. They can go shove it! You need to hear this—“ even though I all ready have millions of times “—I was raped by a guy who I thought was my best, and I mean BEST, friend. He took away the only innocent thing about me!” 
  “Mom! Please!” 
  “So if you want to, whatever! Got to Nicki’s! I don’t care! Call me when you want your father to pick you up!” 
  “Wait! Mom! I just want to—“Click! 
  She hung up on me leaving me in the dark, eyes and cheeks soaked with tears and my heart full of hurt, “I love you,” I mumbled as I hung up the phone grabbed my back and…“Are you okay, sweetie?” 
  I looked up at Miss. Raven, her glasses on the tip of her pixie nose and her eyes fixed on me. I quickly wiped my wet cheeks and smiled, “Excuse me?” 
  “I said are you okay?” 
  I hesitated for a moment to swallow the wetness in the back of my mouth, “Um…yeah! I’m-I’m fine.” 
  Miss. Raven nodded—even though it was clear that she knew I was lying—and pushed her glasses back up to her eyes, “Well…have a good day…” 
  With a smile I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the school’s office, but the moment I passed through the door and into the empty school hall way I again began to cry. 
   
   
   
   Chapter Six: Leave Me Alone  
   
  Brandon’s P.O.V. 
  “Tanya told me about how you read her sketchpad…” 
  I looked up at my little sister from my laptop and rolled my eyes, “So…” 
  “She also told me how you said she should see a shrink—“ 
  “I was just trying to help her—“ 
  “And you seriously think telling her to see a shrink was the best thing? I mean, really Brandon? The first thing that pops into her head when you say shrink is crazy! So now not only is she depressed, she thinks she’s crazy! Why couldn’t you just let her be?” 
  I was starting to feel a bit angry. I shut my laptop and stood up, to stand over her, “Why aren’t you trying to help her?” I glared down on her hoping she’d back down. I never like fighting with Nicki, but she needs to see that I’m not wrong this time. 
  I was very surprised and impressed, though, when she didn’t back down like she usually did, “I am trying to help her!” 
  “No you’re not! You’re sitting there and letting your best friend suffer in silence! How can you live with yourself knowing that you’re not doing anything to help her? At least I tried to talk to her and tell her what I thought would be good for her!” 
  Tears made her eyes go glassy, but she didn’t let them fall over her cheeks. She held them in, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty for making her feel that way. I just couldn’t control my anger…I don’t even know what exactly I’m so angry about. I swear sometimes I think that boys have non-official periods too. 
  “I have talked to her! I have told her what I thought was best! But there’s nothing I can do! All of her emotions and the cutting? I don’t understand them! I wish I could help her, and I have tried…but I just can’t.” 
  There was a very long silence as I watched my sister cry. Never once had I even thought how she was feeling.  
  Nicki, she was always obnoxiously loud and happy. She was always laughing or being a goof-ball. She’s never, EVER been depressed…so how was she supposed to help Tanya? How am I supposed to? 
  “What do you do then…?” 
  Nicki giggled through her tears as she wiped her wet cheeks, “I ignore it.” 
  “You ignore her pain? That’s how you help her?” My anger was rekindling, but her response confused me so much that the anger disappeared as quickly as it had come. 
  “Yup.” 
  There was another long silence before she continued, “I don’t ask her about her pain. I don’t even ever mention the scars and cuts. I just ignore them. When she comes to me upset I embrace her, encourage her to get all her feelings out…and then we got out to the park, or we go rollerblading, or to the movies…I do whatever I can to get her mind off of whatever it is that upset her. I do whatever I can to make her laugh.” 
  I thought for a while about what my sister was saying. And to me what she said made sense. It would never take away her hurt, or her emotional trauma…but Tanya could be herself and have fun for a while. No worried, no regrets, just her and Nicki. 
  “Brandon, I know you like her—“ 
  “I don’t like—“ 
  “Don’t even try it.” I shut my mouth immediately and listened to my sister, “I might be younger and more gullible then you, but I’m still your little sister. I still know you. I knew you liked her the day I brought her home for the first time. That’s why you ignored her, correct? At first she seemed like just another annoying pest, but then you got to know her a bit. Then you started dating Natalie and you’re too big of a horn dog to control yourself.” 
  I shot her a glare as I crossed my arms. 
  “Relax, I’m just saying.” 
  “Just get on with it already, Nicole!” 
  “Like I was saying, I know you like her…but you need to understand that the last thing she needs is more heartbreak. Don’t start anything with her unless you know for absolute sure that you’re not going to be a complete jerk and you need to be sure that you just don’t like her because of her cute ass and face. 
  “You need to be able to stand up for her against your friends and you need to be able to deal with the rumors that would be spread if you hung out with her.” 
  “Yes, Dr. Phil!” I sighed as I hoped back onto my bed. 
  “I’m serious, Brandon! If you start stuff with her and then toss her off your shoulder a few weeks later because you’re tired of her, you’re just going to make her even more depressed.” 
  The realization of all my past girlfriends suddenly hit me. Becky, Jamie, Rebecca, Natalie? All of them, I liked…for about a month tops. Each one I had dated because of their looks, not because I liked their personalities. And when I was bored, I’d just throw them away. Would I just end up doing the same to Tanya? 
  Tanya’s P.O.V. 
  Tears were pouring down my eyes as I listened through Brandon’s closed bedroom door. I could hear everything he and Nicki were saying. EVERYTHING! 
  I never realized that Nicki was hurting a bit herself. I never realized that she felt guilty about not being able to comfort me completely, but now I knew. The tone in her voice and the way she spoke made that evident. She sounded like she was crying. 
  …and then I heard, “Brandon, I know you like her,” and I ran downstairs to wait for Nicki on the living room couch. 
  The tears had stopped pouring, and my guilt for making Nicki feel guilty had faded a bit. Now, I was just too surprised at that last sentence; “I know you like her…” 
  Did he? I mean I’ll admit, he’s a gorgeous guy and he’s smart, funny…but he’s a huge player and only does stuff for self-benefit. He does stuff when he gets something in return.  
  So do I think he’s hot?  
  Hell yeah!  
  Do I like him?  
  I don’t know! 
  I don’t think so… 
  “Hey hun! How was school?” I heard Mr. Rivers ask as he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. I wiped the tears quickly off my cheeks and plastered a fake smile on my face, “Oh, it was fine. Thanks for asking, Mr. Rivers.” 
  “For the last time, Tanya, call me John.” 
  I nodded, “Thanks…John.” 
  “Well dinner’s ready, you want to go get Brandon and Nicki or shall I?” 
  “Ummmmm…I think it’d be best if you get them. I’ll go help your wife in the kitchen.” 
   
   
   
   Chapter Seven: Fears Confirmed  
   
  Tanya’s P.O.V. 
  “Need any help?” 
  I looked over my shoulder to see Brandon. His straight brown hair was dangling in his eyes, hands shoved in his pockets. 
  I sighed, rolled my eyes, and glared, “No, I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help…especially a shrink’s.” 
  He was talking about the dishes which I had offered to do after dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Rivers, but I was talking about…you know…my cutting thing.  
  I ignored Brandon and I shoved both my hands back into the hot soapy water to find the last of the dirty silverware.  
  “Okay I’m sorry about that whole shrink thing. I swear I don’t think you’re crazy, but—“that word ‘but’ immediately infuriated me. It meant he was going to say something that I didn’t like…I was right “—you really do need to talk to somebody.” 
  I tossed the clean fork that I had been scrubbing back into the fluffy soapy water and turned to Brandon, “Look! I understand that you’re trying to help the poor emo girl, but save your sympathy for someone that wants it, okay?” 
  Brandon didn’t waver. He just crossed his arms and stood his ground, “You need help, Tanya.” 
  “Why? Why do I need help? What do you think I am? Crazy? Sick?” I growled as I grabbed the counter top behind me and squeezed. A sharp pain shot up my hand as the edge of the counter dug into my palm. it didn't brake the skin and draw blood, but it was enough pain to take awau some of my anger and frustration. 
  Brandon sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what to say. I could tell just by looking at his face. I was ticking him off…good.  
  “Tanya, I—“ 
  “If you really want to help me Brandon, leave me alone. Stop following me at school. Stop bringing it up. Just stop! You don’t know me, and you don’t know what my life is like! I don’t need help! I just need people to stay out of my business!” 
  “What is wrong with you?” Brandon whispered with a smirk! He was actually smiling. What the hell?  
  Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right! What’s so funny about this anyway? What’s so funny about a girl hating herself so much to the point of self-destruction? What’s so funny about a mother not loving her own child? 
  “What is wrong with me? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I asked on the verge of tears. He had no right to judge me, or laugh at me. He doesn’t live my life. He has a happy family that loves him. He doesn’t know what it’s like. 
  “This morning you were okay with opening up to me, and now you’re just being a bitch.” 
  I went agape. Seriously? You tell your sister you want to help me, and then you call me a bitch? What the heck are you doing?! 
  “Nobody’s going to help you if you act all bipolar like this.” 
  “For the last time, Brandon, I don’t want your help. I don’t need a shrink, and I don’t need a self-absorbed hockey player to tell me what to do. You don’t know what it’s like to be me. You don’t know what it’s like to live with my mother—“ 
  “See! You just proved my point.” 
  I froze, confused. 
  “If you didn’t want help, you wouldn’t have just let the fact that you were upset about your mother slip out so easily.” 
  I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t. I hadn’t really said that, had I? I hadn’t mentioned my mother?  
  “I never said that I was upset at my mother.” 
  “You didn’t flat out say ‘I’m upset with my mom’. But you’re on the verge of crying and you did say ‘You don’t know what it’s like to live with my mother’.” 
  No! I hadn’t seriously…crap! No he, for sure, wasn’t going to leave me alone! He was going to go on and on about my life till I exploded. 
  I closed my eyes and tried to hold back the tears that were now stinging my vision, and squeezed. The faint palm in my hands increase, but only the slightest bit. My heart was pounding, my breathes were getting quicker and quicker, and then…I felt a hand on mine. It was Brandon’s. 
  Slowly and carefully I felt his fingers intertwine in mine as he pulled them away from the counter. Then I felt is warm breath on my lips and my eyes burst open, “Wha-what are you doing?” 
  Brandon looked at me, his brown eyes darker than normal, but not black. He seemed hurt or worried, “Tanya…I…” 
  “Brandon?” I asked with a frown not sure how to react. He was holding my hands to his chest with a faint smile, and I was on the verge of tears because he won’t stop bringing up my cutting. That’s the only reason I had agreed to come tonight, I thought I’d be able to escape my mother for a few more hours, “I…like you…Tanya. I have for a while. And I just don’t understand how you can act like…what you’re doing to yourself, is no big deal.” 
  I stood still and motionless, not sure what to do or say. One single tear rolled over my cheek, to my lips. I took a quick breath through my mouth to swallow the nasty and salty wetness from the single tear. 
  Brandon lifted his hand to my cheek, and I innately winced thinking of the hard to forget yet rare times that my mother had back handed me. Brandon hesitated for a moment, but then quickly brush a strand of my black hair past my ear that had fallen out of my ponytail. 
  I looked into his eyes, and I bit my lip not sure of what to do. His eyes were a dark brown that showed a deep emotion that I didn't understand. Looking into those eyes, despite myself, I felt warm and safe, I guess. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to tell him what my life was like. I wanted to tell him of my pain and hurt, and I wanted him to help me...but he doesn't know me like Nicki, and even she can't help me...so how could he. 
  Brandon took a step into me, slowly to give me plenty of time to object and push him away. I just stood still. Part of me wanted this, and another part was telling me to run. Run and never look back. I felt confused, yet hopeful, and I knew I couldn't afford to think that way. Why are you even risking this, Tanya, I scolded myself, You're such an idiot! You know what kind of a guy Brandon is! Why are you risking it. 
  Brandon's lips brushed mine, and nothing was no longer in slow motion. I wanted this, but I couldn't let it happen. I just couldn't. i'd be setting my self up for failure and for more(like Nicki had said)heartbreak. 
  "Brandon?" 
  "Yea," he whispered against my mouth without pulling back to look at me or anything. He didn't progress forward, though. he just stood still and motionless, like me. 
  I slowly shook my head, "I...I can't..." 
  "Can't what? Just say the words and I'll back up." 
  I pulled back to look at Brandon, in his eyes. Did he think this was a game? Is that all he thought I was? A game? Well he's not going to win me. He's going to have to try way harder then this. 
  "I can't do this." I whispered suddenly feeling played or used. 
  Brandon sighed in dislike, but he did pull away. He took a few steps back, and then shoved his hands back into his pockets. I leaned against the kitchen sink, hands going back to the edge of the kitchen counter.  
  "Tanya...are you-" 
  Ding! Dong! 
  I practically ran out of the kitchen when I heard the doorbell. My father was here to drive me home. Never had I ever been happier to leave Nicki's house. 
   
   
   Publication Date: June 24th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-chloeknox18