George pov (do I even need to put this here unless there's a change?)

I woke up in the bathroom.

I wasn't sure how I got there, but I noticed a burning sensation on my arms. 

I peered downward at my forearms that rested in my lap, gaping at the blood that covered them. 

I choked out a sob. 

I self-harmed. 

How? How did I allow this to happen? Why? I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I kept apologizing to no one. 

I cried silently, my shaking hands attempting to support my weight in getting up. I took off my clothes and stumbled into the bathtub, allowing the water to run, but I kept my arms away from the water. 

I knew it would hurt, and I was scared. 

I held my breath and slowly put my arms into the water. It burned so badly. Tears streamed down my face as I held them there. I forced myself to watch the pink liquid cover my arms for minutes long. 

I could see them clearly now. 

The cuts. 

There were so many. 

I stayed in the shower, the pattering watter offering a cover from my sobs and pleas for forgiveness. 

Forgiveness

Companionship. 

Two things my mind fought against. 

My mind telling me that what I did was unforgiveable. It would stay with me forever. Companionship wasn't an option. Imagine what Clay would say. Imagine. He would be scared. Scared of me or scared for me?- it didnt matter. 

I couldnt deal with the stress of even thinking about it. 

I dressed in black. No more colors. They were childish. 

I didnt eat breakfast. I was too fat and undeserving. I wanted my sisters to be proud to call me their brother. 

I walked to school instead of driving. I could use the exercise. I was weak.

I arrived at school and walked straight to my class. Usually, I would bound up the steps to see Clay, but I couldnt handle seeing Clay if he didnt like me back. It would break my heart. 

I walked straight to my class and sat in a chair between two people I didnt know. I couldn't handle Quackity coming and sitting in the chair next to me and asking how the date went. 

But someone I did know walked inside the class and sat in front of me. 

Hir blonde hair shading his sand-colored face from the Floridian sun, his eyes deep as the ocean and filled with green hues of concern.

"George?" 

"Hi, Clay." I said. 

"Are you okay?" he asked. 

I shrugged, looking confused. He couldnt see any of my scars or bruises. How did he know something was off?

"You look different. You seem different, too. You're not excited. You don't seem all too happy. I don't like seeing you like this." CLay said, sitting down in front of me. 

I shrugged again. "Tough night." 

With that, the bell rang, and another day's beginning fell from the schedule and into a reality I wished to escape. 

I walked with my eyes downcast from class to class, spending lunch behind the school where I'd gotten mugged the day before. 

I replayed everything over and over in my head. 

But I didnt cry. 

I felt no sympathy for myself. I felt no empathy, even though all the pain was what I'd felt. 

I felt nothing. 

So I got up and continued the cycle, walking to my next class and sitting down, condemning myself to the same action for the next few hours. 

When school was over, I walked to the front of the school and waited in front of the door. Many people came up to me during this time. 

Quackity came up to me, trying to ask about the date, but I told him that I was busy yesterday and was now waiting on Clay so that we could hang out. 

Nick, one of Quackity's boyfriends, asked me if I was alright, and I told him I was anxious about my aunt who had cancer, knowing full well that my aunt that had cancer had passed a week ago. I hadn't told any of my friends that, though, so the lie hit perfectly. 

Karl walked out, asking my if I wanted to come over to his place, but I waved him away with the same excuse I'd given his boyfriend. 

Clay didn't come out though. 

But the people I was waiting for did. 

The two boys that had beat me yesterday walked out of the school, seeming shocked to see a 15-year-old there. 

I guess they don't remember me. 

"What are you doing here, you little piece of shit?" the blonde one asked. 

"You guys beat me up yesterday. I just wanted to say that you were right. I'm horrible. In every way. I'm fat. I wear childish'y colored clothes. I'm... nothing. Just thought I'd tell you that." 

I turned to walk away when I felt a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. 

I turned around to see the ocean blue eyed of the bully. "Don't you want to say thank you?" he asked as his friend laughed. 

My eyes welled up with fresh tears. 

His grip tightened. 

"Go on."

"Thank you." I said, having no energy and motivation for rebuttals.

He smirked and shoved me to the ground, walking off to his car. 

I began walking away, vaguely hearing someone call out my name. 

I kept walking, not feeling any remorse until I felt another hand on my shoulder. 

I flinched and turned around. 

It was Clay. 

"George, you were hurt by those two dicks?" he asked, seemingly angry. Why? He shouldn't care about me. There are others that are much more worthwhile. 

"Yeah." I answered.

"Oh, my god." The blonde pulled me into a hug. "I'm so sorry. We stayed and searched for you for two hours. We couldn't find you. I'm sorry. We thought you'd gone home. Oh, gosh. Please, whatever they told you, don't listen to them. PLease, you're beautiful. I care about you. Please, don't listen." 

I nodded against his chest, but didnt hug back. I didn't have the energy. I didnt feel anything, yet I still knew that before yesterday, I'd be melting into his touch and blushing. 

I didnt today. 

I pulled away and began walking away, neither denying or confirming with what he'd said.

I couldnt agree to something I didnt feel right with. 

I walked home, blank stare, vacant expression.

All I heard was a feeble "George" from my crush.