*Emma's POV*

Two days, and I was out of the hospital.

Two days, I was back to Jack.

Two days, I was back in school.

Two days, and I was getting bad again.

Oh, I hid it well. Very well. Fake smiles, fake laughs, no grades slipped. In fact, I was doing better in school than ever. I didn't shut myself in my room, I participated, I smiled and laughed with friends. Little did they know, once Jack kissed me at my door, I would walk in, smile and wave goodbye, and shut the door. But from there, it got bad. I would slide down the door, hanging onto the door handle, and sob hysterically. I pulled at my hair, paced, I wouldn't eat. Eventually I would turn to my blade. I steered clear of my wrists, knowing my friends and Jack check them regularly. My thighs,and stomach, however, where a different story. Hundreds upon hundreds of cuts, deep and shallow, short and long, littered my thighs. Again, I was careful with hiding them. I could even wear shorts, as long as they weren't too short.

I let out a shuddering breath as I pulled the blade away from my leg. I stared at the blood oozing from the eleven new cuts. Each one had a name. I touched them lightly as I repeated the words in my head, crimson blood getting on my fingertips.

Worthless.

Stupid.

Ugly.

Fat.

Disgusting.

Horrid.

Emo.

Mood-killer.

Annoying.

Boring.

Nobody loves you.

I pressed my finger hard against that last one. Nobody loves you. It was true. My parents left me. My teachers despise my lack of spirit. I laughed bitterly and rested my head against the bathroom wall. Depression is a war. You either win or die trying. And I'm fairly sure I'm not winning this war.

I don't really have friends either. I mean, that freshman, Anna, she seemed nice. She at least cared a little. All my "friends" were really Jack's friends.

Jack. Does he really love me? Probably not. He's probably dating me out of pity. All I am is a worthless, good-for-nothing mess. If I left, it would probably be for the best. He did act like it though. He did act like he loved me. I thought about just a couple days ago, when I was in the hospital. I had actually felt... happy? I guess..

I saw something flash past my hospital room door, going alarmingly fast. I sat up quickly, wincing slightly. I could have sworn I had seen a flash of dark hair with a streak of blonde. I watched the door for a second, to see Jack's flushed face appear in the small window, grinning. He opened the door quickly and strode to my bed, giving me a quick kiss before pulling away. He set his bag on one of the chairs near my bed, then came back to me and kissed me again. His tongue swept across my bottom lip, asking for entry. I obliged, and soon we were exploring each other mouths. Too soon, however, my lungs screamed for oxygen, and I pulled away, panting.

"So how are you?" Jack asked, resting his forehead on mine. My mouth stretched into a grin.

"Way better now that you're here," I whispered, and brought his mouth back to mine just as the door opened. Jack sprang away from me and into the chair next to his bag. I laughed at his blushing face, and he subtly flipped me off. As the nurse was talking to me, broken ribs, blah blah blah, Jack and I threw stupid faces back and forth. My silly grin was still stretched across my face.

"Ms. Thompson?" the nurse asked, catching my attention. I looked over at her. Jack sniggered at me, so I took one of the pillows on my bed and chucked it at him. It hit his face, and he caught it there, the pillow muffling his now full-out laughter. "As I was saying, you can leave in a few days time," the nurse finished, then walked out.

As soon as the door shut again, Jack pulled the pillow off of his face, looking at me eagerly. "Is she gone?" he whispered, and I nodded. At that, he jumped up again, returning to my bed. He pulled himself half into the bed and hovered over me, arms on either side of my head to hold himself up. I smiled up at him before he leaned down to kiss me once again..

I sighed as I came back to reality. I looked back at my leg, noticing the bleeding had stopped. I got a towel and washed the dried blood from my legs, then slowly walked back to my room. I decided to log onto Facebook for the first time in a long time. I saw a plethora of messages on my wall, so I went to my profile. It was then that I saw all the hateful messages they had sent me while I was in a coma.

Slut.

Did she finally kill herself?

Nobody needs her.

Nobody wants her.

Nobody loves her.

I'm glad she's gone.

I slammed my laptop shut and got up from my bed. Before I could process what I was doing, I picked something up and threw it. Then I threw something else. I ripped my sheets from my bed, I ripped posters off my walls. I threw anything that I could. I completely trashed my room. I was breaking beyond repair.

At the end of my breakdown, I slumped down to my knees in the middle of the debris. I looked around my room. I thought about life. Tears streamed down my face. I let them fall.

I had hit my all time low.

After a while, I decided to get up and write a very important letter. I managed to find a piece of paper that hadn't been shredded, and a lone pen. I didn't bother to turn my desk back over to write on there. I just went to the corner of my room, pressed my side into one wall and used the other as a surface. I glanced around my destroyed bedroom, thinking.

Then I began to write.

Notes

hey
i haven't eaten in three days
how are you?

okay so this chapter wasn't originally going to be so depressing, but i put the cute part in too ok?
and sweet baby jesus carrots, this story has nearly 10,000 views??? woow. ily all, keep commenting! c: