***this is for the entire book, but extra trigger warning for this chapter

Lullaby // Nickelback

Nila

A week passes. Sometimes, things almost seem normal. I stay off of social media for the most part, but the majority of the comments stop thanks to Dad and Joel and their small army of reposters. Vince catches me staring at Katherine's new messages, so he promptly takes my phone, screenshots them and texts them to himself just in case we ever need proof of what she said, and then blocks her and deletes the thread and my end of the screenshots. So that's the end of that. We talk to Mom and the boys almost daily, Moriah and I text often, and Luna and I constantly. They play shows, we find local coffee shops, normal.

Except when we eat and Dad continues to have to coax me to do so. Except when I disappear immediately following most meals to puke them up. Except when every night, I find myself back with my blade, swear it'll never happen again, and then repeat the process.

After an hour or so watching the guys be idiots playing Mario Cart on a Wii in one of the dressing rooms, I slip away to go to the bus and get some school done... at least that's my mental excuse for being alone. I'm about to open the door when I hear Dad's soft voice coming through the open window.

"No, I haven't seen them. I just... I just have a feeling."

A pause. He must be on the phone.

"I'm going to, but I don't... I don't wanna scare her."

Oh, God. He's definitely talking about me.

"Courtney, it's killing me too." He's crying. "I... just the thought of her... But I don't think taking them away is the best option."

No. No, no, please no. But I can't deny that I know exactly what they're talking about.

"I don't know. I just... I just don't wanna push her away anymore."

How could I be so stupid? Look at what you're doing to them!

"I wish you were here too." He's crying harder now, barely choking out the words. "I know I'm not... I know I'm messing up. I don't know what to do."

"Darling, I'm not saying you're trying to say that. It's just true."

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Courtney, I just... I know. I know. I'm sorry."

They're fighting. They're fighting because of me.

"I... alright. I love you. Bye."

Silence.

I hate myself. I have never hated myself as much as I hate myself right now.

I hear movement inside the bus.

He cannot see me. He cannot know that I heard that.

I sprint around the bus and hold my breath. The sound of the door opening, and then his footsteps, on their way towards the arena. When they're gone, I peak around the corner of the bus. No sign of him.

It feels like there's lead in my shoes as I trudge up the steps of the bus.

How could I do this to my family?

I'm tearing them apart.

This is all my fault.

Everyone would be better off without me.

I climb up onto my bunk and reach by instinct for my scissors where they're hidden in my pillowcase.

The blades glint dully as I turn them over in my hand. What have I become?

Everyone would be better off without me.

Sleeve back, I start to swipe. It's getting harder to find a clean space to do it.

Mom and Dad are fighting because of me.

I hit blood, and that sick sense of relief floods over me. I keep going.

What have I become?

I hurl the scissors across the bus and yank open one of my cabinet doors. My hands are shaking as I rummage for it, and I drop it and have to retrieve it again before I pull it out.

A razor, which I found in the garage before we left. Ten times more effective to make yourself bleed than manicure scissors.

Before I can have any second thoughts, I lower it to my arm, push down hard, and swipe.

The pain is a million times worse than the scissors gave me. The blood is coming out three times as fast. I do it again, slicing through old wounds in the process.

Dad blames himself for this. Dad blames himself for me.

Water dripping from my face to mix with the blood on my arm is my first realization that I'm sobbing.

In the distance, I hear a train whistle on the tracks that run right by the arena.

What if I just ended it? Sure, they'd be sad at first. But in the end, it wouldn't do anything but good.

I make another cut, then drop down from my bunk, barely landing on shaky legs.

I'm ruining their lives right now.

I slice again as I take a staggering step towards the door, then another, until I'm tripping out into the sunlight.

All I do is break people's hearts.

Another cut. The blood is running off my arm and staining the concrete.

The train whistles again.

Look at me. This is pathetic.

I can't see through the blood where I've already cut, so I do it blindly, ripping into old and new wounds alike.

How can this be what I've become?

My eyes land on the train tracks. I'm not even looking where I cut as I do it again.

It would be so easy.

I start to run on shaky legs, tripping every step, until I'm tripping onto the tracks themselves and finally stopping to make another cut.

The train comes around the bend. The whistle blows again, and again, trying to warn me away. I look down at my arm, and a sob racks my entire body. Brakes screech, but it'll never stop in time.

It's just fifty feet away now. I'm fifty feet away from seeing Jesus. Fifty feet away from freeing my family.

"Nila!"

I don't know if the yell is in my head or in real life. My vision is blurry and my world is spinning. I don't even have the strength to make another cut.

Twenty feet away now.

Two strong hands take hold of my shoulders, and before I know what's happening, I find myself in the fiercest hug I've ever known.

My face finds his shoulder, and I only know it's Joel because of instinct and his familiar scent.

He's shaking as he pulls me a few more steps away from the tracks before his legs give out under him and both our knees hit the ground.

"Oh, God," he chokes out as I feel his tears soaking my hair. "Oh, God."

What just happened? This... this cannot be real. Please, Jesus, tell me this is all just a horrible nightmare.

"I..." I choke and sob into his shoulder helplessly.

What can I say? What did I do?

The pain in my arm feels more like numbness, but it's the warmth of the blood that breaks through. I'm bleeding all over him.

"Joel..." I can barely hear myself as I try to pull away. "Your shirt..."

He shakes his head wordlessly and pulls me that much closer, still shaking. "I love you," he whispers. "Oh, I... I... Oh, God."

One arm releases me, but the other is still ensuring I can't escape his hug. There's a pause before I hear his shaky voice and realize he's on the phone. "Luke... Luke get outside. Please." Another pause. "Vince..." He chokes and takes a deep breath. "With the guard, you... you know how to... how to stop a wound from bleeding, right? Grab a first-aid kit and come outside."

I know I should be terrified, but I... I don't feel anything but disbelief.

What did I do?

"I'm sorry." It sounds so pathetic. "I... I... I..."

"Shh." And the second arm returns to its place.

Running footsteps approach. Somehow, despite the fact that his entire body is still shaking, Joel rises to support both of us.

"Nila?" It's my father's voice, trembling in fear and confusion. "Joel? What..."

"She..." I feel Joel sob. "I..."

I feel him gently detaching himself from me and transferring me into my father's arms, but I can't find in myself to open my eyes and risk seeing the looks on their faces.

Dad is shaking too as his arms wrap around me. "Darling..."

Joel's hand finds my shoulder, like he just can't bear to let me go.

How can this be happening?

More footsteps approach. Vince. He's here to... no. No, I can't...

"I'm sorry." I barely recognize the croak that is my own voice. "I... I'm so sorry." I can feel the blood from my arm soaking his shirt in a matter of seconds.

"Nila?" That's Vince's voice, utterly broken. "Oh my... Nila, Kiddo..."

"The bus is cleaner," Joel whispers from behind me, and I feel Dad nod.

I have no choice or strength to do anything but let him lead me in that direction, my face still pressed into his shirt, blood and tears still both saturating it.

Somehow, we make it inside and to a couch. I think Vince is kneeling in front of me.

"Kiddo..." The devastated word confirms it. "you're bleeding a lot. Can I please see your arm?"

Gently, Dad's hand detaches that arm from around him and guides it in Vince's direction. I try to pull away, but I have no strength to properly fight him.

Even my best friend's hands are shaking as he accepts my bloody disgrace and lays it on the couch. Gently, he wraps something thick and soft around it a few times, then presses down and holds. I feel the first layer of the cloth quickly soaking, but he just holds the pressure, whispering as he does, "Call 911."

911. They wanna take me to the hospital. That means... they're gonna wanna put me into treatment. What if Mom and Dad get in trouble? I can't... I can't...

"No," I choke out hopelessly. "Please, no."

Dad's arms just tighten around me. "It's gonna be okay," he murmurs, taking a deep, shaky breath. "You're gonna be okay."

Joel's hand finds my hair, stroking gently. I hear him talking to what must be a 911 operator, but his words are nothing but echoes.

A squeak signifies the bus door opening. I can hear the evidence of more than one person outside the doorway in confused, concerned whispers. I decern John's voice from the door itself, soft though it may be.

"Oh, Nila, why?"

It's a good question... it's the only question.

Why? Why am I so stupid? Why do I break everything? Why do I exist?

It's been way too long but I've had writer's block so bad I swear. All I know was that was a mess, but please let me know your thoughts and any constructive criticism. Love you all, thanks for reading.