Saving Eliza.

Eliza is troubled. Her life is far from perfect, in fact it's so close to imperfect.

Oakley is Mr Perfection. He is everything anybody wanted. He's kind to most people, just not Eliza.

English class brings them together and could Oakley help Eliza with her troubles or will he totally ignore her like before?

Warning! Includes upsetting topics like self-harm, anxiety and anorexia. Please be aware it may upset some people.

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1. Chapter 1: I'm An Outcast

Chapter 1: I'm An Outcast

 

I walk the school halls alone. Nobody to talk to or chat with. Nobody there to hear my silent screams. Nobody ever was there. I've always been alone. Never part of the "cool" social group. I've not even been part of the nerds or the freaks. I'm alone. On an island of my own. I'm an outcast. I've never done wrong, why do they treat me like this?
 

I hold my books close to my chest, creating a solid wall that blocks me from everyone. My bag swings slowly by my left side as I walk down the empty corridor, knocking against my knee, repeatedly.
 

No one is in the corridor. They're all in a lesson. Learning about numbers or letters while I wander this corridor alone, as per usual.
 

I've wandered this corridor alone every week. That same time and same day. 10 am on a Friday. I halt at a red door. On the red door, a plaque reads Guidance Counsellor, Mrs. Hollis.
 

I suck in a breath of air and then knock gently on the door, three times.
 

Knock, knock, knock.
 

"It's open Eliza!" A shrill voice shrieks from the other side.
 

I always hope, just for once, she would say 'not today love' or 'come back next week'. That never happens. It never will.
 

I push the door open and walk inside the large cube room. It's full of knick-knacks, from pictures of dogs to statues of ballerinas. The sofas are so old you can clearly see the outline of springs that want to escape, just like me. The walls used to be a light shade of purple until someone vandalised it. Mrs. Hollis calls it a work of art, I call it... I don't even know what I'd call it.
 

"Ah, Eliza, great for you to drop by!" She says cheerily.
 

"Don't have a choice, miss. You know that." I grumble and throw myself down on one of the soft but lumpy sofas.
 

"Don't look so glum, Eliza! Give us that smile!" Mrs. Hollis says to me.
 

I pull a quick smile, like the Cheshire Cat, before going back to my permanent frown.
 

"How has this week been for you, Eliza?" Mrs. Hollis doesn't like to be subtle.
 

"Same as always." I reply, monotonously.
 

"Help me here, Eliza." She almost begs.
 

I'd be begging if I was her too. I'm full of problems that I don't like sharing. I'm horrible to have a conversation with because I just won't even try. My problems have made me become even more isolated than before.
 

These stupid problems.
 

"No."
 

"Come on, Eliza."
 

"No!"
 

"Eliza!"
 

I say nothing this time. I cross my ghastly pale, thin arms across my small chest and look down at my bitten fingernails as if I was assessing them like every other average sixteen year old girl.
 

"Fine. That's it Eliza. If you don't talk to me, I'm going to have to get you real help." Mrs. Hollis says.
 

That brings me back to reality. I sit upright so fast, I could have had whiplash.
 

"No, please don't. Not again." I whisper remembering the time I had to see a different guidance counsellor at SeaView. SeaView was a place for troubled teens. I spent five months, four days, seven hours, 32 minutes and 56 seconds in that horrid place.
 

"Then talk to me Eliza, let me know how you feel." She says softly.
 

Her dress clad knees are balancing a pure white notebook, which is clear of any writing. I know what it is supposed to say. It's supposed to say all those things I try and say but can't. Won't. Never will.
 

"I guess... I guess I'm getting better." I say at last.
 

That wasn't a complete lie. I'm getting better, or maybe I'm getting worse. I think of my blades at home, the ones I haven't touched in two days. Making me think of them, makes me pull at my long sleeve top. I let the sleeves swallow up my whole hands.
 

"How long?" She says, not looking at me, but my arms.
 

Mrs. Hollis got that out of me two months ago.
 

"Tell me, Eliza!" She shouts.
 

I let a silent tear scrape down my face. I pull up my sleeves for the first time in a public area. Her eagle eyes zone into the cuts and bruises that take over my arm.
 

"Eliza, oh, Eliza." She whispers before pulling a sobbing me into her big, warm arms.
 

"Two days." I shrug.
 

"That's progress, Eliza. Well done." She claps.
 

I roll my eyes, "Whatever."
 

"You can go back to English now." Mrs. Hollis tells me while handing me a lollipop.
 

That's kind of a tradition of ours. I tell her something, I get a lollipop.
 

I give a small grunt and pick up my bag and books.
 

"Thanks, Mrs. Hollis." I say, the same as always even if I'm not sure it's the truth.
 

"See you next week, Eliza. Let's get the days to nine!" She smiles and I close the door behind my body.
 

No chance of getting to nine days.
 

I wander back down the hallway, alone, to get to my English class.
 

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