Chapter 3

Lena

T he sun starts to set over the graveyard, and I know I should go back to my apartment, but I don't want to. I don't think I have the strength to pretend everything is okay right now. I just want things to end, but I'm too much of a coward to try and fail again. All I can do is stew in my feelings of worthlessness and despair.

I have class tomorrow morning, and every eye will be on me from the moment my feet land on campus. I wrestle with whether or not I should face Carson at all tonight. It might do him some good to wonder where I am after the shit he pulled. If I go home, he will try to make me forgive him and smother me with some kind of love and affection. The thought of it makes my stomach churn.

I should cut him off completely and move on like any normal female would do when she's been wronged in this capacity. I'll never fully forgive or trust him after this, but the idea of being completely alone again scares me. I'm not sure what my mind would be willing to do when I only have my own thoughts to stew in. The darkness that always threatens the corners of my soul will try to pull me back under again. Even if it's a superficial relationship, for now, it's better than everyone thinking I'm alone. That would just be more for them to talk about.

I should figure out how many more videos exist. Fuck. I want to be upset at him, but I don't want to risk hurting him and having a slew of videos leaked on the internet for the world to see. One is bad enough. I need to find out more about the situation before I make any kind of drastic move. I have to let him think he can make it up to me.

The sun has now set, leaving twilight in its wake. I stand from the bench and take one last deep breath before walking to my car. It's chilly but not cold enough for me to get hyperthermia from sleeping in my car. As much as I welcome death, hyperthermia seems like a terrible way to go.

I open the door to the back seat and slide in, shutting it behind me. I grab my bag with miscellaneous clothing and rummage through it. I keep this somewhere in my car at all times. My life experiences have taught me that it's always better to have spare clothing than to be forced to walk around in potentially ruined ones for the entirety of the day. Another lovely lesson from high school. A person can only endure so many days of smelling like spoiled milk before learning from it.

I pull a sweater over my head to add an extra layer of warmth while I sleep. If I get too cold, I can always turn the heat on for a little bit. I grab another shirt, bundle it into a ball to make myself a pillow, and glance down at my bed for the night. How fucking pathetic am I? Being alone with my thoughts makes me want to do something drastic .

Before I know what I'm doing, I slip out of the backseat and find myself behind the wheel. I start the car and drive to the nearest supermarket to obtain the only thing my mind hasn't been able to free itself from since seeing the video.

I park and walk inside, heading straight to the section with all the shaving products. People never question someone purchasing things like this. The men's double-edge razor blades are my go-to. They take the least amount of effort to obtain the desired effect. After grabbing a few other things, I make my way back to the front of the store. Quickly, I pay the cashier and find myself back in my car.

Within a few minutes, I'm parking in my favorite spot at the cemetery again. Nobody bothers me when I'm here, regardless of the time. They know my car and know that I show nothing but respect to the dead.

The dead have always been nicer to me than any living person I've ever encountered. They don't judge or make me feel like my thoughts or feelings are invalid. They simply listen.

I grab the bag with the razor blades and use the light on my phone to walk back over to the bench that has become my refuge since coming to Thorn Grove. It would be a shame to get blood all over my car. After setting my phone down with the light shining up, I pull the razors, gauze package, and tape from the bag and set them next to me on the bench.

I stare at the razors, questioning if I should really open myself up to this again. I know letting myself do this may be a giant step backward, but I need the relief. There are too many thoughts coursing through my head right now to resist the pull. Had Carson not come home earlier when he did, I would have already done this and moved on from the feelings.

Having them built up inside me has only made the urge worse. I can just make one or two cuts. It won't be a habit again. I tell myself. I know I'm lying, but I also don't care enough to try to talk myself out of it anymore.

I grab the package of blades, rip it open, and pull one of them out. The light from my phone causes a glare in the metal as I hold it in front of my face. I'm fixated on it for a moment, waiting for my mind to tell me not to do this. This isn't going to make anything better. This isn't going to change the fact that the entire campus saw me getting dicked down. My mind doesn't want me to stop, so I do what my instincts tell me to do.

I push up my sleeves and give into the darkness, letting the overwhelming feeling possess my body. The edge of the blade glides over my skin just enough for a light trail of blood to ooze from its wake. I breathe heavily as I watch the red liquid drip from my wrist and onto the bench.

Chills spread throughout my body, and relief instantly follows. I make another cut next to this one, pushing a little deeper this time. The blood flows a bit more from this wound, but it's still not enough to put me at risk of bleeding out. I don't want to kill myself right now. I just need to feel something familiar.

Dragging this blade across my skin is the first real thing I've felt in almost two years. I've been pretending to be someone I'm not. I've been putting on a fake smile and cultivating fake relationships with people to try and be the person society expects me to be. This right here, this is the real me. This is the raw, uncaring, natural Lena Hill at her best or worst, maybe both.

I drag the sharp edge along my wrist one last time for a third and final cut. The tension in my shoulders recedes, and I can almost breathe normally again. The adrenaline starts to wear off, so I close my eyes and take a deep breath, centering myself. Shame floods through me for a brief moment before I will it away. I had to do this. I'm not weak. I had to do it so I could deal with the stares tomorrow. Everything is fine. I'm not going to let it get bad again.

With that last thought, I rip open the gauze, place it over my wrist, and tape it down. I don't want the blood getting onto my clothing. I'll wash and disinfect everything tomorrow. I sigh and walk back to my car with the bloody blade wrapped in another piece of gauze that I placed safely in the package. After tossing the contents on the front seat, I crawl to my makeshift bed in the back and let my restless dreams overtake me.

**********

I pry my eyes open and stare at the ceiling momentarily, dreading what is to come from this day. The sun shines brightly into the windows of my car, reminding me that I slept at the cemetery. I sit up to stretch and take a few deep breaths. The will to go on with the day is very minimal right now, but I don't have a choice.

I dig through the bag of my spare clothing and find something comfortable to wear with long sleeves. I can't have the evidence from last night showing for the masses. I've caught some strange looks toward my old scars, but nobody's had the gall to say anything about them. If they saw the fresh cuts, I know for sure they would shame me. They already have enough to gossip about today without me adding to it.

I glance down at my phone and see a few messages from Carson that I don't bother reading. I'm still not ready to talk to him. He's likely wondering where I am, but he can keep wondering. I bet he wasn't thinking about where I was when he was with whatever girl sent out the video of me and him fucking. I'm angry at him today, which is good. Anger is an emotion, right? At least I'm feeling something other than empty.

After putting on a fresh change of clothes, I spray dry shampoo into my hair and throw it up in a ponytail. It's not the best look, but I don't care. I slide into the front seat and freeze for a moment before letting autopilot take over for the drive back to Thorn Grove. The campus comes into sight, and I park in my usual spot before grabbing my backpack from the trunk.

I walk through the quad with my head down and my eyes laser-focused on the ground in front of me. I can't bring myself to look at the crowd of people I stroll through. I can feel their gazes practically burning into my skin. The whispers around me are not as quiet as they think they are.

"Oh my God, did you see the video of her?"

"She is such a slut."

"I can't believe she let her boyfriend film her."

"I thought she was weird before. I guess I was right."

"I can't believe she had the balls to show her face today."

"She knows everyone saw it, right?"

"What if she's the one that sent it out?"

Each one cuts into me like a knife. I wish it was an actual knife instead. I just have to make it through my classes, and I can go back to my apartment to find some relief. During class, there shouldn't be anything I have to overhear. The breaks between them are going to be the biggest issue.

I make it through the first break fairly easily, but the break between my second and third class is much longer. I have to go to the other side of campus, and typically, I stop at the dining hall to grab lunch beforehand. My stomach growls at the thought of food. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.

I take a deep breath and will my body toward the dining hall. I'll just keep my eyes down and ignore the comments. It'll be fine. Except it's not fine. As soon as I walk in, I make the mistake of glancing around the room, and everyone goes quiet. Everyone is staring at me as I step in front of the cooler full of ready-made sandwiches. I grab a random cold cut, eager to get out of here as fast as possible.

When I turn to walk toward the check-out, a woman steps in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest. I've seen her around campus before. We don't share any classes, but she always hangs around the football team. She's got perfect long blonde hair and always has her makeup firmly in place. She's the exact type of person you would look at and just know she's a mean girl.

"You know, we always wondered why Carson would date someone like you, but it all makes perfect sense now. You're the only slut willing to fulfill his sexual fantasies. I bet you liked it when you found out he was recording you, didn't you?"

I try to step to the side to walk around her, but she steps in front of me again. I don't see how shaming me makes her feel better. I get increasingly annoyed at her continued presence.

"I bet you'd let one of his friends fuck you at the same time and film that too. You would probably let the entire football team run a train on your used-up pussy."

"Get the fuck out of my way," I grit out, making her laugh in my face.

"You're a pathetic excuse of nothing, a waste of space, Lena. Nobody wants anything to do with you now that we've all seen what you're good for. Nothing but a slut who's willing to do anything for someone to fuck her. Carson isn't just fucking you, though. Maybe you should ask him about me."

She laughs again and finally steps to the side, leaving me to stare at her as she walks away. Was she the one who leaked the video? Or is she another woman Carson could be cheating on me with?

My head spins as I approach the cash register to ring myself out. I grab the sandwich I no longer desire to eat and go straight to my car. After the run-in with that cunt in the dining hall, I'm skipping my last class for the day. My professor will just have to get over it. The blades in my car are calling out to me again.