Well, I've heard a tale about a man who climbed a mountain,

Just to be with the one he loves.

How many times has he broken that promise?

It has never been done.

Well, I never climbed the highest mountain.

But I walked the hill of calvary.

And just to be with you, I'll do anything.

There's no price I would not pay, no.

And just to be with you, I would give everything.

And I would give My life away, yeah.

And I've heard a tale about a man who swam the ocean,

Just to be with the one he loves.

Well, all of those dreams are an empty notion.

It can never be done.

I never swam the deepest ocean,

But I walked upon the raging sea.

And just to be with you, I'll do anything.

There's no price I would not pay, no.

And just to be with you, I would give everything.

And I would give My life away, yeah.

And I know that you don't understand the fullness of My love,

How I died upon the cross for your sin.

And I know that you don't realize how much that I gave you.

And I promise that  I would do it all again.

And just to be with you, I've done everything.

There's no price I did not pay, no.

And just to be with you, I gave everything.

Yes, I gave away. Yeah.

I gave my life away. Yeah.

Just to be with you.

I'm out of breath by the time we finish the dance. Our song, "Just To Be With You", by Third Day, is slow, but the dance is super dramatic, and we do a lot of fairly advanced moves that keep you working hard for the full four minutes. We finished learning the choreography last class, so we've been running it from the top ever since we did devotional.

Our teacher, Rebecca, smiles as we finish. "Aah, it's looking so good guys!" She checks the clock on the wall, nodding in satisfaction. "We've got time to do it one more time. Yeah?"

My classmates groan as they return to their beginning positions, but I don't. I honestly don't see why you wouldn't want to do it again. Yeah, I'm exhausted, but everything is simpler when you're dancing. Life makes sense when you're dancing. Hurt disappears when you're dancing. It and writing music are like the two things that keep me going. Writing the music, because it's how I vent... how I get all of the pain out of my system without giving into it. And dancing, because it's how I escape all of that pain.

So I get into position, take a deep breath, and move with the music.

I get to dance the part of Jesus this time, and I honestly do love it... I get to do fun, challenging things like be lifted, and act with everything in me... which are my two favorite parts about dance. But at the same time... I just feel so false. And I can't imagine Jesus being anything but disgusted at someone like me portraying Him, even in one little dance.

We finish for what's probably the fifteenth time today, and I feel my heart sink just a little at the realization that the class is over. We link hands and pray, before we all turn away to grab our things and leave. I stoop, picking up my bag and water bottle and taking a long swig. We all murmur our thanks to Rebecca as we leave our classroom, but she stops me with a hand on my shoulder. I wince at the gentle concern on her face.

I've done my absolute best, but fresh cuts on your wrist are hard to hide when you're dancing. I've always tried to convince myself my teachers haven't noticed, but, especially with Rebecca, I've always known the truth deep down. And the look in her eyes right now confirms it.

The mere thought makes my stomach clench and my eyes drop from hers.

"Are you doing okay?" she asks quietly, her young, beautiful face written with gentle concern.

I can't lift my eyes to hers, no matter how hard I try. "I'm okay."

The sigh that escapes her lips is so sad that it kills me, but she simply pulls me into a hug, squeezing me extra hard for a long moment.

"I love you, Baby."

"I love you too," I whisper, and turn around before she can see the tears that I can feel pressing at my eyes.

"See you tomorrow," she calls after me, and I nod, calling something that I hope sounds like cheerful agreement.

But, suddenly, it's like I can't hold those tears back. I keep my head down as I pass my classmates, making a beeline for the bathroom. I barely have a stall door locked behind me before I've lost it completely, and tears are streaming down my face. What if Rebecca comes in here? We both already knew that I was lying, but that would be pushing it. But I just don't know how to make myself shut up.

It's just... I've tried so hard, but I know I'm breaking. Lance sees straight through me, and it's a wonderful, yet horrible and terrifying feeling. And today was just the confirmation of what I already knew... that Rebecca has seen the scars that I'm so, so ashamed of.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm reaching into my bag and my hand is finding the pouch that's sewn into the inside of it. My hand closes around my tiny, sinful lifeline. It's like the moment it does, the razor is in my arm and the blood is sliding down my pale skin.

Two more cuts later, I realize what I'm doing and retract the blade suddenly, shoving it back where I got it.

What is wrong with me? What am I doing?

But I stopped crying.

I dab out the blood the best I can, because I know I can't risk washing them in the open. Especially because Natalie dances here. And if Natalie knows, Aaron knows. I shut my eyes against the thought.

When I've cleaned up as well as I can manage, I replace my hoodie sleeve and go to clean up my face instead. I touch up my makeup briefly, but I know I need to get back out there and start home. Once I've returned to the way I looked before I lost it, I take a deep breath and exit my safe haven.

I don't take my time getting out of here. I briefly say hi to Natalie before slipping out past everyone else and heading home.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I walk, Group 1 Crew's "Keep Goin" playing in my ear buds. I'm so sick of this. I'm broken. I'm that student, who Lance is always gently chasing, who Aaron is always silently worried about, who David, even, is always trying to get past the guard of. And now Rebecca. Except she knows. She's seen. What if she tells someone?

I shove the thought away. My parents are never around dance. I'll just have to keep them away.

But still. When I was younger, I never even dreamed that I'd be one of these people... it never even crossed my mind. It wasn't an option for me. I mean, I had a perfect life. I still have a perfect life. I don't understand why I feel this way. I don't understand why life just... hurts.

And I'm sick of being that broken person. I'm sick of being a burden.

But I'm trying to fake it. It's not working. What else can I do? I can't rid of this pain.

I could always get rid of myself.

My eyes close again against the thought.

And this is the most shameful part of me of all.

But that's all I want... I just want to die. Is that really so wrong?

I shove the thought away. You know it is. And anyway, what if you failed? What then?

I have Pandora going, the the song changes to one I don't recognize. I check the name. "This Isn't the End", by Owl City. Sounds good.

An eight-year-old girl had a panic attack,

Cuz the father she loved left and never looked back.

No longer the hero she counted on,

He told her loved her, and then he was gone.

She tried to look happy in front of her friends,

But knew that she'd never feel normal again.

She fought back the tears as they filed her eyes,

And wanted him back just to tell him goodbye.

When the rain falls down,

When it all turns around.

When the light goes out,

This isn't the end.

Her dad was a good guy that everyone liked,

But nobody knew he was dying inside.

He promised his family he'd be alright.

And then with a gunshot, he left them behind.

Suddenly, as it goes into the chorus again, I can't breathe. I didn't know... I thought... I wasn't expecting... but it's true. My eyes fill with tears as the terrible realization hits me; that's what it would do to Hope. Yeah, I've thought of it before... but I know it never really, truly sank in. She was the reason I hadn't yet killed myself. But I know in my heart, I still was planning to, eventually.

But I can't. How could I think that I could? How could I destroy her like that?

The role of a father, he never deserved.

He abandoned his daughter and never returned.

And over the years, though the pain was real,

She finally forgave him and started to heal.

How close is the ending? Well, nobody knows.

The future's a mystery, and anything goes.

Love is confusing, and life is hard.

You fight to survive, cuz you made it this far.

It's all too astounding to comprehend.

It's just the beginning, this isn't the end.

It's just the beginning, this isn't the end.

The rest of the song only makes me cry that much harder. I'm so stupid. But I'm also so stuck.

What a sight I must be right now. Walking down the street, sobbing, for the second time in less than an hour.

It takes me another song and a half, but I finally get it together. I check my makeup using my phone screen. I mean... it's not that bad. I should be able to slip into the house without anyone noticing, so that's good.

I seriously hate myself so much.

I glance around, realizing I completely zoned out. How close am I? About a mile to go, still. That's good. I can make sure that I have it together before I get home.

I check my phone for the next song that's coming on. Skillet's "The Last Night". Great. I mean, one of the best songs ever, but right now... it's perfect but also painful.

I look up sharply as a car pulls to the side of the road just in front of me... quickly, like it wasn't planning to before.

Wait. Lance owns a black truck.

Chill. It's not him.

That's his brand, and his model.

It's not him.

Those are his freaking stickers on the back window.

Dude, it's not...

The window rolls down, and my stomach tightens as Lance leans out, looking at me using the rear-view mirror and waving slowly.

So it's him.

Uncertainly, I raise my hand and wave back.

"You want a ride?"

I hesitate. My brain still isn't working right.

"I mean... I'm almost there. You don't have to."

"I'm going anyway," he counters. "Steve invited me over."

"Oh." I hesitate a long moment, but there's nothing else I can say. "Okay. Thanks."

I walk around the truck and climb into the passengers seat as Lance turns down the hard rock music he has playing. I buckle, and he pulls back onto the road.

"Walking home from dance?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"How was that? Did you totally rock it?"

I laugh briefly. "No."

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Of course you did. You killed it."

"Whatever you say."

He looks at me sidelong for a second before turning his eyes back to the road. "How was school?"

"It was fine." I shrug. "It was school."

There's another moment of silence. Finally, his voice gentle, he asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." It's horrible and disgusting how easily I lie.

He leans towards me, speaking in a tender, yet direct, whisper. "I know what cried-on makeup looks like."

I hate myself so much.

I look away sharply, but I know I don't hide the guilt on my face from him.

He waits a few seconds before pressing, "So you wanna tell me the truth now?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What can I say? There's no way I can convince him I'm okay. But otherwise... I'm scared that if I start talking, I won't stop before I tell him something he loves me too much to keep to himself.

"I'm just stressed out." It's all I can think to say, all I can make myself say, and I know it sounds pathetic coming out.

He obviously knows I'm not being straight with him. But he nods slowly anyway. "You wanna talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about." It's like every word that passes my lips hurts to say.

"Okay." The word is so sad and gentle that it kills something inside of me. He hesitates for a moment before adding in the same tone, "I'm here for you."

Those four words. Get me every time. And today, it's just too much to take. I look at the floor, desperately fighting back the tears that jump to my eyes. My eyes fill anyway.

Maybe he won't see.

The hope was dead at birth.

His hand finds my shoulder, and he squeezes gently.

"You wanna text me about it later?"

"Okay." I know there's nothing that I can say beyond that one, choked word.

"Remember," he adds quietly, but with a playful note behind the word, "or I'll bug you."

"Okay." Though the word's still choked, he somehow brought a shaky smile to my face as well.

"I love you," he adds as he pulls into my driveway.

"I love you too," I whisper.

I just don't know how I can keep this up.