I Know You're There

At every single school, there's always an emo that gets bullied. The one at Tori's school is different. He still gets bullied, and he never speaks, and no one ever sees him outside of school. There are rumours. Many of them. The main one, his parents have abandoned him. Tori starts suspecting that he lives in the abandoned house next to hers. As she starts getting close to him, and unveiling the horrific truth, she realised his pure beauty. If only everyone else could too...


22. 'Irrevocably and unconditionally in love with someone.'

My life fell into a horrible pattern. It wasn't like before. Before was the average morning routine; go to school; come home; see friends; go to sleep. That's a pretty good pattern. Now, well, it was get up; skip breakfast; probably skip school; skip lunch; skip dinner; skip seeing friends; find the razor; go to sleep. That's something I did not want to see - let alone live. 

My bones jutted out, in ugly shapes. My hipbones were no longer curved, they were hard and sharp. My ribcage hung through my skin, along with every other bone in my body. Honestly, I was like a walking skeleton. That didn't matter to me, food didn't matter to me. I occasionally ate, just a measly amount to keep me alive. Not that I wanted to be alive. 

Bella and Cade had gone home. They didn't want to leave, said something about looking after me. Bella was the only one who noticed what I was going through. The others just saw me as a little bit upset. I wished I was only a little bit upset. 

It was like I'd had over half of me ripped away, leaving tattered edges, slowly fraying, to leave nothing. Not that there was much to fray anyway. It was just a bag of bones with pink scars. My hair had become matted and dry, quite a mess. I didn't care. Why should I?

Nonetheless, my GCSE's went well. I got straight A*/A's. I had English, maths, triple science, history, geography, PDB, art and psychology, all straight grades. My parents were proud, which made me slightly happy. Ollie didn't do too well, but he got an A* in music, which is something. 

Of course though, the happiness lasted for a mere second or two. I'd been going in the anorexic, self harming state for quite some time, about six months, I think. That meant it was June. Six and a bit months after 'it' happened. I couldn't refer to the loss of Reuben as anything else other than 'it'.

Before, back in January, I considered planning him a funeral, but I couldn't. There wasn't anyone else there to do it for him, but me, and I just couldn't. Planning a funeral for someone you love that much is actually impossible. It's like finally admitting defeat. The only thing keeping me alive, was that tiny bit of hope that Reuben would come back for me. 

Sooner or later, deep down, I knew I'd have to accept he wouldn't be coming back. After all, it had been over half a year. A horrible half a year. The rest would be even worse - if I survived it. 

I was scrolling through some posts on my phone, not having anything else to do, when I came across this, Your skin isn't paper, don't cut it. Your face isn't a mask, don't cover it. Your life isn't a film, don't end it.

If only. When I cut, my skin felt like paper. My face felt like the identity to the horror I'd become, so I had full right to hide it. I wished my life was a film so I could end it. No one knew what I was going through, and no one ever would. They all thought it was temporary, and something anyone can over come.

Not when you love someone like that. Not when you wouldn't think twice about giving your life for their's. Not when you wished with every fibre in your being to be with them. Not when you know you're so irrevocably and unconditionally in love with someone you probably shouldn't have met.

Not when it's Reuben Dane. 

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