Chapter 1

Alexis

A funeral two days ago, a wedding yesterday. Just **** it all.

Mom keeps saying it's beautiful. Like the circle of life. I think she's full of ****.

I mean, first of all, a wedding is not the beginning of life. At all. Second, a wedding and a funeral are only two points in someone's life out of a lot. And anyway, this week has been the furthest thing from beautiful anyway.

I mean, Danny died a week ago. Danny died. Just when I thought I had someone who would always be there for me, he died. The universe obviously hates me.

And I had to see it happen. I cried so much that night, before it happened, and then when he finally let go, that I could resist it otherwise. For the most part, at least. Especially with the help of my razor.

I felt like crying yesterday. I had to be her ****** maid of honor. It was so sweet, so perfect looking, for me to come in before her, all dolled up like it's not just putting lipstick on a pig. It made me want to puke. Isn't your maid of honor supposed to be someone you actually care about?

And then there was him. I'd already had to see him a few times, at dinner a few times, at the rehearsal, but none of that was horrible, because he and Mom were too busy with each other to notice much of me.

But yesterday, you'd think I was the one who'd freaking married him. Everyone wouldn't shut up about how good it was to see us together again. How they remembered how adoring I was as a child.

I was stupid as a child. Just freaking stupid.

And now he's living with us. At least I've got the weekend to myself, while they're off on their ******* honeymoon. If I had more than one freaking friend, I could have a party.

I sigh as I stare at the window in front of me. We used to have huge windows, before we moved. A huge bay window in the middle of the living room, where Nana always read to me. And it had a gorgeous view of the mountains.

Now, I'm stuck with one that I can barely squish myself into, and all I can see is Denver. But it's better than nothing, I guess.

At least Christmas is over. That sucked.

New Year's Day. A new year without Danny. A new year with a freaking jail bird who thinks he's living with us. Fantastic. Freaking fantastic.

"**** it," I mutter into the closed window.

What the heck am I even gonna do for three stupid days? Sit here and cut and cry? Honestly, I'm beginning to miss freaking school.

I shudder at the thought. You know what? No I'm not.

But for real. This sucks.

I should run. After all, I did have to choke down cake this week, and I was pushing it before that. I'd hate to see it now.

Oh, just get up and deal with the consequences of your idiotic decisions, you disgusting ball of lard.

You know what, I'm right. I've just gotta deal with it.

Reluctantly, I slip out of the window and to my room below.

If I'm not careful, I won't fit up there anymore.

I open my door and don't bother to shut it, crossing the hall to the bathroom and kicking the scale out from behind the door. Here goes nothing.

Deep breath, and I step onto the scale.

A minute of thinking, and a number flashes before me..

I disgust myself.

I step off and leave the bathroom, unable to look at myself in the mirror. I don't believe this.

So I should definitely run. But I really don't feel like it. Not today. Not right now. Ugh. I'm a horrible excuse for a human.

Seriously, there has got to be something good to do this weekend. Jared gave me a hundred bucks to entertain myself with. I know it was an attempt to buy my favor, but it totally didn't work. I wouldn't mind if he wanted to try again, though. I could get rich off of this deal. See how much money it takes for him to figure out his ******* games don't work on me.

I groan as I make it back to my room and drop down in my desk chair. I'm seriously going to die this weekend.

Doesn't sound like such a bad idea.

Shut up.

I turn to my laptop and open Google Chrome, at a loss of what else to do.

events this weekend in denver, co

And, search.

Obviously, there's stuff going on, but just about none of it looks interesting in the slightest.

Craft fair? I can't even.

Beer fest? So maybe I wouldn't die this weekend, but I certainly would when my parents got back. Because they're hypocrites like that.

Gun show? Get real.

Seriously, it's Denver. There has got to be something.

Winter Jam. A concert might be fun.

I click on the link and wait for the page to load.

Ten artists for ten bucks is a good deal.

Britt Nicole? That's the lady who sings "Gold". She's pretty good. At least she is in that song. How is it that I haven't heard any of her others?

NF. Not a clue. Whatever. He looks young. Probably just isn't famous yet.

Tenth Avenue North. Okay then. Haven't heard of them either.

Colton Dixon. Wasn't he on American Idol or something? I think Danny liked him the season he was on.

I shove the thought away and keep going.

for KING & COUNTRY? No idea. What kind of a freaking name is that anyway? King? This is America.

Skillet. Finally. Now they are legit. "Would It Matter" is my life.

Capital Kings. No clue.

Manic Drive. Nope.

KB. And, no again.

Newsboys. Seriously, where do they get these people?

I sigh as I stare at the page. Out of ten artists, I've heard of three and actually listen to one. For all I know, the rest of them could completely suck.

But ten bucks? You know what, I'm desperate.

Tonight. I glance at the clock in the corner of my screen. It's two-thirty, concert starts at seven. I've got time.

It feels good to make a decision for once in my pathetic life.

I rise sharply, shoving the thought aside. I'm sick of moping.

If you weren't so much of a failure, you wouldn't find the need to obsess over it so much.

You know what? Freaking shut up.

I grab pair of black distressed jeans, my leather jacket, and a black cami, and head back to the bathroom to shower. I might as well look decent, at least.

I didn't consider how I'd get to the concert.

I pull the website up on my phone and glance at the address, then back at the time. It's only three-thirty, and it's about three miles away. I'll be early even walking.

Deep breath, and I'm off. Maybe I should get something to eat on the way.

Like you need it, pig.

Good point. I'll skip supper. Just like I skipped lunch. And I woke up too late for breakfast. I could actually lose weight this weekend.

I pull out my phone again, plugging in my earbuds as I walk. I might as well get a taste of what I'm in for tonight.

Okay, so start with Britt Nicole. I seriously can't believe I don't know any of her other songs.

I open YouTube, type in her name, and wait.

"Gold" is the top result. I guess it must be her most famous piece. "Through Your Eyes", "Headphones", and "Ready or Not" swing in after it. "Headphones" sounds okay.

I listen through that one and select another that pops up called "Electric Love" before she has my approval.

Okay, so Britt is legit.

I check the website again. NF.

Britt Nicole is actually featured in one that pops up, "Can You Hold Me". I guess I'll start there.

Britt sounds freaking amazing in this song.

Okay, this NF dude's legit too.

If lonely's a taste, then it's all that I'm tasting.

Welcome to my life. Too bad I don't have any perfect boyfriend to hold me.

I feel myself getting wrapped up in the lyrics, in the music. There's just a different feel to this stuff... Britt's too. Something about it. But it's amazing.

It's not just you!

What I would give to hear that said to me.

I feel it too!

If anyone on the planet really has ever felt what I'm feeling right now, I'd love to hear that too.

When the song ends, it's like a shock back into reality. I love this dude.

I move onto another song of his called "Invisible", checking my map to make sure I'm on track. I am, so I turn back to the music.

I could swear this guy has been reading the diary I don't keep. I mean, for real.

I swear, I must be invisible,

Cause you never see me anymore.

And I swear, I must look miserable,

Cause you never hold me anymore.

Yes. Just yes.

You keep making promises,

But you don't ever keep 'em.

And then look at me stupid

When I say I don't believe 'em.

Exactly. This is seriously the story of my life.

And, as soon as the word "hospital" is out of his mouth, I feel a lump form in my throat. I hate those things.

I just got you, and now

This cancer's gonna take you away.

Of its own accord, despite my best efforts to keep it back, a tear slides from my eye. What's wrong with me?

But that's what it felt like with Danny.

Even if he had been there ever since that night when he first showed up with the news about my dad, I just always felt like I barely had him. Like he was going to abandon me for drugs and money, or care more about what's inside a beer bottle than me, just like everyone else who I'd ever trusted.

But he never did. It always felt fresh and new and amazing, the love he showed me. I never knew where it came from. I guess he was some kind of religious, but I never really cared. I wasn't listening hard enough at his funeral to hear what they said about it.

But that's because that was it. That new, fresh, amazing thing that had kept me steady for the last nine years was gone within eight months. And there was nothing I could do about it.

The song ends, and I take a deep breath in an attempt to clear my tears. So I'm hooked on this dude. I'll be downloading some of his songs, for sure.

And you know what? Between him and Britt Nicole, added to by Skillet, I think I should do alright tonight. So I find an NF playlist, start it up, and shove my phone into my pocket before glancing once at my map, then at the website one more time. He's hot too.

It's just weird how few of these people I've ever heard of. Whatever. I guess maybe this thing takes main attractions like Skillet and maybe even Britt Nicole and then gets other, newer or less known ones, some attention by adding them on top. That's probably it.

So I take a deep breath, set my shoulders, and keep walking.

I lose myself in the music until I see the concert hall towering in front of me.

The people directing the traffic barely glance my way as I walk by. I'm sure you have to pay for parking in there, so they probably assume I'm just avoiding that, or that someone dropped me off.

The line isn't even all that long, since it's only just five.

I wait in line for about ten minutes before I get to the front, pay my ten bucks, and prepare to move on. But the people working here are unnaturally friendly, and the person giving out tickets and taking money seems to have to have a small conversation with every single person.

"So," she says with a smile. "You're here by yourself?"

I nod, trying to force my own smile. "Yeah. Uh..." she seems to want me to explain. "My parents are out of town and I kinda decided to come last-minute, so it was too late to get a friend."

The friend. Cause I only have one.

"I see," she says, nodding. "So, who are you most excited about tonight?"

I shrug. "Uh... either NF or Skillet."

"Yeah?" she asks. "They're great. But I kinda thought you'd be a Colton Dixon fan..." she smiles. "A messenger, as he calls them. I don't know why."

"Well... I might be after tonight," I reply evenly. Would she just let me freaking go? "I haven't really heard any of his music."

"Really?" You don't need to be that freaking surprised, woman. "Well then, you're in for a treat. I think you'll like him. Enjoy the concert!"

And I'm finally free.

I continue inside, check my ticket and seats are first-come, first-serve. And I'm way early.

I stop in the bathroom before continuing into the hall.

"Holy ****," I mutter under my breath. The only other concert I've ever been to was when Skillet was at Elitch's last summer. That was awesome, but it was outdoors and all that, and it was toned-down and small. This is anything but.

This place is freaking huge.

Obviously, the spots at the very front are totally taken. Those people probably slept here.

But I manage to find a spot that's definitely way better than I would have paid for at a traditional concert. I'm seriously pretty close to the stage. I sink onto the ground and pull out my phone.

I check for texts, but nothing's there.

I didn't expect there to be. I won't be hearing from the two love birds all weekend, and friend is honestly kind of bold for the one person I call that.

Honestly, Lacey is more like the person I hang out with at school because she's a jerk who has no friends and I'm a loser who doesn't either.

I let out a long sigh, my finger dropping to my jean pocket and fingering the razor there through the cloth.

Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with me. I should be excited right now. But I just feel like I'm about to break down and cry. And I don't know why. But what I do know is that I can't let a single ****** tear out or else I'm going to get pounced on by strangers. I know from experience.

Abruptly, I rise, leaving my backpack here as my claim, and head back to the bathroom.

I lock a stall door, ignore hygiene, and sink to the floor. And my razor's out.

And in my arm.

The surface-grazing cutting I used to do disappeared as soon as Danny's cancer got worse. The stinging of that is nothing compared to the straight-up agony of the cuts I make now.

The blood from those was nothing compared to the heavy flow that streams down it now.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

I feel tears leap to my eyes, but I don't care. These are the kind of tears I can handle, because these are the kind of tears I can hide- cold, quiet, and agonized.

I lavish in the pain of two more cuts before I finally put my razor away. Now about cleaning myself up. I let out a long sigh, trying to still my tears. I can't take this right now.

I reach up and grab some toilet paper, wiping at my arm once. The stuff's useless. With how much blood is coming from the cuts now, it's soaked without taking really any of it away.

I knew it wouldn't work, but I just didn't want to face the only thing that does. Water. When I run water over them for a while, it stills enough to not soak through... or in my leather jacket's case harm the fake leather... the sleeves I'm wearing. But what if someone walks in here?

I'll have to cover my tracks.

I get out my razor, take a deep breath, and shove the corner into my hand. And twist.

**** it, that hurts!

I pull the blade out, tossing it into my backpack and zipping it. And I rise to make my way to the sink. I will legit have to clean my hand, but I start with the cuts. Cold water over them for about five minutes and they'll be mostly good.

I've gotten about a minute when the door opens. Smoothly, I let my sleeve fall down and start washing my hand. This really hurts. I really shoved that in deep.

The lady who walked in is middle-aged, by what I can tell from the corner of my eye, with reddish-gray hair and a shirt on with something about Shoulders. Whatever.

She doesn't even look my way, in a pretty big hurry to get to the stalls. I remove my hand from the water and wipe at it a bit, pressing to try to stop the bleeding. It's not gonna work, not with this cut, but I don't want to wash all the blood off now and not have any to explain the red staining the sink for anyone else who comes in.

I occupy myself like this until the lady comes out again. This time, she does look my way, smiling slightly. I pretend like I don't notice.

She starts to wash her hands, but I'm still watching her face from the corner of my eye, and I see her own eyes glance at me once more. And this time, they see my hand.

She looks way too concerned for a stranger.

"Hon, is your hand bleeding?" she asks, like I'm one of her own grandkids or something.

I shrug, still not looking at her. "It's not that bad."

"I have a first aid kit in my purse!" she says urgently. "I'll get you some real things to wash that up with."

**** it, what's wrong with this woman? She doesn't even know me!

"Um, I'm good, thanks," I reply, thinking fast. "My mom's actually coming with her first aid kit. I'm just doing my best until she gets back."

"Oh, good." She hesitates, her eyes still locked on my hand. "Can I get you anything?"

I shake my head quickly. "I'm good, thanks. You can go."

"Alright, then," she sighs, finally seeming to take the hint that I don't want help. "Enjoy the concert, Dear."

I'm not your ****** dear, woman! Whatever. I nod to her.

"Yeah, you too."

And she leaves. I wait a moment before pushing my sleeve back and beginning to wash my arm once more. She was way too nice. All the people here are.

I honestly have no idea what's with them, but it's creeping me out.

I get about thirty seconds of peace before I'm interrupted again.

What the heck is freaking wrong with life?