~Three hours later~
Calum made me go home until the whole thing was finished. But I'm the only one there, so once again, I'm alone.
I just listen to 'hold on til May' by Pierce The Veil while watching Breaking Bad on the flat screen TV. I decide to see if what Cal posted on twitter has actually worked.
I go onto his account, find the post an scroll through the comments. Not good.
I then get a notification saying that someone has tagged me in a post. I click it, terrified. It's a video from the acoustic hangout today, the part where I stand up and shout at a girl.
The caption reads:
There is seriously something wrong with you, fuck off. You should have died with your family, 5sos don't give a fuck about you.
They're right, I should have died along with my family. Nobody needs me anyway.
I walk into the kitchen, crying drastically. I grab a knife, pull my bracelets up and put it to my wrist, dragging it along my pale skin. Blood drips and I grit my teeth as I do it, over and over again.
"Oh, what a waste of a perfectly good, clean wrist." I sing. (lyrics of a PTV song).
Suddenly, I hear the front door opening. I sprint upstairs with the knife in my hand and run into the bathroom. I get some tissue and wipe the blood from the knife and then run cold water over my wrist.
"Evie!" I hear Luke walking up the stairs. I pull my bracelets down to cover my scars and put the knife down the back of the sink, then quickly open the door.
"Hi Luke." I say, walking out and closing the door behind me.
"Um.. You left your phone in the kitchen, unlocked, on your twitter profile." He tells me, holding my phone up. Shit.
"Yeah. It's just great, right?" Sarcasm is one of my many skills.
"No, it's not. Delete your twitter account, please." He says. I shake my head.
"No. You can't make me." I snap.
"Watch me." He replies. I try to grab my phone, but he's too tall and before I know it, he's done it.
"Fuck you Luke." I say. He sighs, handing me my phone.
"Love you too." He mumbles before walking down stairs. I follow.
When I get down there, I realise the guys are also here. My depressing thoughts are immediately interrupted when I see Ashton's angel like face.
I itch my wrist and sit down.
"Are you okay?" Cal asks.
"Yes, I'm fine Cal." I reply. I then feel a tap on my shoulder.
"Do you like Breaking Bad?" Mike asks. I nod.
"I think it's too depressing." He says. I nod.
"Exactly." I reply.
Ashton looks at me.
"Evie, are you sure your okay?" He asks, looking down at my wrists. Fuck, he's noticed.
"Y- Yeah, I'm sure." I smile slightly, then I give him a look that says: 'don't tell anyone' and he nods. After that, he doesn't take his perfect hazel eyes off me.
Eventually I get bored of the conversations about how Calum thinks Green Day is the best band ever to exist, so I go upstairs to my room and listen to Sleeping With Sirens.
Soon, the door opens and surprisingly, Ashton walks in.
"Evie, I know you're not okay." He says.
"I don't know what you're talking about Ashton." I lie. He sits down and takes hold of my wrist.
He lifts my bracelets up, revealing new and old cuts. I look down.
Don't worry, I've been there too." He whispers, showing me his wrist. He has scars.
"Why do you do it?" He asks. I don't reply. He let's go of my wrist.
"You don't have to tell me." He says. I nod.
"My parents used to abuse me. And if they weren't abusing me, they would leave me alone and not even bother to talk to me. So I would have to just stay in my room, alone. And at school, nobody liked me. And now I'm here, millions of people hate me." I tell him. His eyes widen and he pulls me into a hug.
"I don't hate you." He whispers. I get butterflies in my stomach as he pulls away, smiling, showing his dimples.
"I don't hate you either." I'm trying so hard not to tell him that I have a crush on him.
"If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here." He says, standing up and walking towards my door.
"Oh, Evie.. Um do you wanna hang out sometime? You know, without the guys?" He asks. I almost die of happiness when he asks that.
"Yeah that would be cool." I reply calmly, trying not to make it obvious how much I like him. He then smiles and walks out.
Song of the week: better off dead by Sleeping With Sirens.