Mateo's Pov

"Mateo get your ass up! You're gonna be late for school!" I hear a shout from downstairs

Groaning angrily and looking at the alarm clock, I see 7:50 in bold red numbers and throw my head back into the pillows not wanting to leave for school. But I know my dad will come up here in the next 20 minutes to see if I'm up.

So with a tired sigh I get out of bed and walk across the room. When I make it to the bathroom, I look at my reflection and run a hand down my face.

"Damn I look like shit," I say aloud chuckling heavily

Shaking my head, I grab a towel wetting it to wash my face and take my toothbrush out the drawer. Finishing my routine, I walk out and grab the outfit I hung in my closet last night.

"You better be putting some clothes on not looking at yourself in that damn mirror Mateo!" My dad shouts up stairs again and before I can control it, I see a bullet lurch across my skull

"Shut the fuck up," I reply mockingly and he curses and I soon hear his footsteps violently climbing up the stairs

The door is locked so when I hear him jiggling the door knob, I laugh while finishing to get ready. I turn to grab my things from the table and when I do, I see bullets and guns scattered across it.

Making my lip twitch in mischief.

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Emma's Pov

"Emma what the living fucking hell?!" I hear a high pitched scream as shakes ripple through my left side

I look up with hooded eyes to see that it's mother. A small smile etches itself across my features and I raise a finger to touch her, but she moves back as tears start to well in her eyes.

"Emma, my sweet babygirl. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" She asks pushing her glasses up to wipe a tear from her face while moving a strand of hair from mine

"What do you mean mother?" I ask quietly trying to keep my eyes on her

She looks down, making me repeat the action and my eyes widen instantly. I'm laying in a puddle of blood and my pajamas are ruined. My jaw slackens as I notice my arms are covered in gashes and look up to see her face is as pale as a ghost.

"Mother, I can explain," I weep meekly trying to sit up

"No, I am done Emma. You are sick and need help. I'm calling Ms. Matthews," She seethes quickly pulling out her phone

"No!" I shout painfully grabbing her phone throwing it behind her

Ms. Matthews is my therapist. She's the one who prescribed the pills and told me to come into her office every Thursday.

But I haven't been there in months.

I've been too scared and indecisive to go because she's going to say the same thing and could even increase the dosage of my prescriptions, and I don't need that. I need her to want me. I need her to see that I'm worthy of a normal life.

"Emma, do you even hear yourself? You're running away from the only person who can help you," My mother states running a hand through my hair

My heart melts at the gesture but my blood runs cold at her words. Pushing her hand away, I stand up almost tripping over my own feet looking solemnly at her.

"No mother, I... I am the only one who can help me. You, you nor father have been h - helping me. And Ms. M- Matthews only helps b....because you pay her..." I whisper my voice cracking horrifically

Her expression remains the same but I can't tell if it's because she's processing that I'm covered in blood or that I went against her. I usually don't argue, but when I do, I stutter, my voice breaks, or comes out in small waves. Which made no one take me seriously, not even her.

"No, Ms. Matthews helps because she wants whats best for you. We all do. But you clearly aren't helping yourself by harming yourself. How does that even help you Emma?!" She presses aggitated, her tone becoming louder

My eyes widen at her remark as she's never been the one to explode before. It's always been father. She was always the loving parent who made me think twice before making a hasty decision. My mother is the only reason why I'm still doing any of this.

But I disregard it allowing my insides to scream;

"You don't care about me. All you care about is your image and how you're going to impress another company owner at a fancy gala!"

but I keep it in, taking a deep breath wanting to hurt her. Like she hurt me.

"I don't know. But it does, and if... If you truly cared about my well being, you would've saw that I was c - crumbling when I was 14, but, but you d- didn't. And n- neither did Ms. Matthews," I reply mockingly and clumsily scatter out of the room

Going to my closet and getting new clothes off the hanger, I storm off to their bathroom closing and locking the door. Mere seconds later, I hear the click-clacking of her heels against the freshly mopped floors until they stop at the door, and she sighs before knocking softly.

"Go away," I demand hesitantly sniffling getting out of the bloody clothes

"Emma, please," She mumbles in a tone of regret and sadness

"Not now mother, I really want to be alone," I plead turning the shower on

I feel slightly better knowing that was the first sentence I said without butchering it, and shortly after, I hear her sigh and leave. A breath escapes me and I turn around, throwing my ruined clothes in the trash bin.

My eyes close stressfully, and before I know it, I feel like an idiot for not carving deeper.

I'm exhausted from hearing the "closest" people in my life tell me the future is more important than the present. I'm tired of them only being worried when I cut or isolate myself.

I'm tired of it all.

Finally turning the shower off and getting out after about 30 minutes, I grab a towel to dry off. Noticing the red gashes in my wrists and forearms, tears threaten to fall but I ignore them while swallowing the bile rising in my throat.

Escaping back to my room and grabbing a new outfit to put on, a long sleeve shirt and jeans, my uniform even though it's still summer, I grab some of my mother's make up as well and delicately apply it.

Soon I realize how much I am different from my parents since they're brunettes with green eyes, and I have blonde hair with brown eyes. I've questioned it in the past, but they brushed it aside reassuring me not all children look like their parents.

Not wanting to dwell on it, I grab my things, get in my car, and start the engine instantly remembering the route to school. I take one last glance at my empty home, and slump in my seat hoping for a change. But I roll my eyes at myself since I haven't been lucky in years and turn on the radio to distract myself.

Once I make it to Springfield's parking lot, I sprint inside since I'm already 30 minutes late and after, I go to the office to get a late slip. I grab my schedule and scan over the piece of paper as I speedwalk to my first class and suddenly crash into something making me fall to the floor.

My hand instantly goes to my head trying to contain the pain and when I finally open my eyes, I see a boy staring at me with widened ones.

My breath hitches and I start to glance over his outfit to read him. I start to think he's bad news since he's wearing all black and his hoodie is clouded over his forehead. But when I look up to his baby blue eyes I start to think he's more than that.

He abruptly extends his hand out to me but instead I push myself up as I wince from the pain. I can still feel his gaze on me, but I continue to walk in the other direction.

Hoping this will be our last encounter.

I soon hear footsteps close behind me so I quicken my pace and blow out a breath of relief when I finally make it to class. I knock on the door in desperation and the teacher looks towards me and walks up opening it, throwing me a look of disapproval.

"Ms. Clark, will I have to notify your parents about your tardiness?" He asks pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose

I put my head down shaking it and gnaw the inside of my cheek.

It's not like they don't know already.

In the process of making my way to an empty seat, I start taking my supplies out when another knock comes from the door. The teacher scowls and mutters under his breath, "teens," but opens the door and my heart drops. Because it's the same boy with the electric blue eyes who I bumped into earlier.

The same one who saw my cuts.

"Good morning, nice to see that you're late as well,"