(Author's note: this chapter involves self-harming, viewer discretion is advised.)

If I said I was mad, it would be an extreme understatement. Probably not the understatement of the century, but a big one, nonetheless. I. Was. Pissed.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to do much except for angrily stare at my house and clench my fists. The car was gone, but I couldn't know if mom was home, not after last time.

I stormed inside, not caring if she was or wasn't. I found an old photograph of me and my mother, and then threw it on the floor, shattering the glass. I was angry. And not just at one thing, I was angry at seemingly everything. I was angry at my mother, Matt, my father, hell, I was even mad at Jacqueline. Why on that last one? I'm not sure. But I was mad.

Of course, as we all know, mood swings  don't ever last that long. Nothing is permanent. Not even scars last forever, they face as quickly as we do. Here for a while, then they disappear. It's the same with life, really. In saying that, I knew things faded. Here today, gone tomorrow.

I dug my pen knife out of a drawer. I fingered the tip lovingly, how I missed the blade. One. Two. Three. I let out a sigh of pleasure. Four. Five. The blood went down my arm. Drip. Drop. It teased me. Six. Seven. It felt so good, numbing, like the aftermath of a bee sting. Eight. Nine. Ten.

I dropped the knife. Ten was good enough for now. I felt the pain of my bleeding arm, and bit my lip. Then I smiled, because I could feel it.

Pain can be challenging, scary, or overwhelming, but in some situations, pain is lovely. Pain can bring tears that make us appreciate the little joy that comes our way in life. Pain can hurt you so badly that you never take your happiness for granted again. And pain can cause scars so deep that even the best written words cannot challenge it.

~~~~~

I regret that. Jacqueline told me not to do anything I would regret in the future, but I did it then anyway. What is wrong with me? I drove her away, I lost her. And I'll never be able to get her back. And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.

~~~~~

three a.m.

*knock knock*

"No."

*knock knock*

"Stop."

*knock kno-*

"I swear to my spaztic uncle's collection of fake blue China tea cups if you knock again I will punch you in the face."

I mean, it was a fair statement. I had no idea where my mother was, no way in hell I'm letting anyone get into this house. I did, however, get rather curious as to who it was. In my curiosity, I then proceeded to get up, fall back onto the couch, get up again, stumble around in the dark, and trip over our seventeen year old coffee table made entirely out of my mom's used popsicle sticks and paper trash.

I glanced out the window. Of course, I couldn't tell who it was, because A. It was dark outside, and B. I forgot my glasses.

After tripping over the table again and finding my glasses, I went back to discover it was Jacqueline. How surprising. You know, considering how much I care about her, I was somehow so incredibly angry with everyone that I didn't care that she came to me. In fact, it made me even more mad.

I opened the door.

"What."

"Eddie?" She said, almost in tears. That's what made me snap out of my anger. Seeing her hurt like that- I couldn't hold onto my own pain.

"What happened?"

"Eddie- it was Matt."

"If he touched you I swear I'm going to kill him." Somehow, that like made her cry worse. My chest ached after I saw her tears. Her face trembled.

"He might already die, Eddie." She said that, and then more tears came. I regret my choice of words.

"What happened?" I asked, confusion showing clearly throughout my face.

"He had an accident. He was drunk, and he tried to ride home on his friend's motorcycle or something- he crashed head on into a car and he's in the hospital. The car burst into flames and the driver is in critical condition." She looked deeply pained as she spoke, as if she had taken a hard punch to the gut.

"Oh no... is he going to be okay?" I hoped that didn't sound fake. I cared about the well being of a human, but I couldn't bring myself to care about Matt.

"We don't know yet. I wanted to know if you could go see him with me. I would go by myself, but he's drunk and hurt and quite honestly, you're the only person I've told besides Kris, and she's got work early tomorrow and I couldn't bring her to come with me even if I wanted to." I guess that was understandable.

"Yeah, it's okay. I'll come, just let me get my jacket." I really didn't want to spend time in a hospital, especially not for that reason. But Jacqueline was so hurt, I would have traded my left leg to make her feel happy. I grabbed my jacket, and we walked outside. I looked around the dimly lit street. I could see some trash cans, and the occasional empty soda can rolled around until stopping in it's tracks- as if it's realizing it can't get anywhere in life, so why bother? I could relate to those empty cans.

I sat in the passenger seat. We got going, but neither one of us spoke. I almost turned on the radio to break the silence, but I couldn't bring myself to use that as an escape. So I finally decided to speak up.

"So Matt is getting treated for..?" I waved my hand on, as if for her to finish the sentence.

"Cuts, possibly a broken arm, and a concussion. Thankfully he didn't get that hurt."

"But wait, you said it was a head on collision. What about the driver?"

Jacqueline pauses to look at me as we stopped for a red light.

"Eddie, that driver was your mother."