The Sister Of Popular

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hey guys! Sister of Popular is ending in a few chapters (the first time I've actually finished a story!), and then it means I need something else to write! I have an obscene amount of story ideas in my works, and soon I will be putting up a new story, which will make these updates less frequent (and I'm also currently working on my second book of one-shots!) so if you're missing two-day SoP updates, you can always check out my other stories :)

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"Good morning...Alexis," a cheery new nurse said to me, coming along with a cart of breakfast food.

I looked up from where I had been sitting up in bed, staring at a television programme about cooking. It was the only thing on TV, since Coronation Street didn't particularly appeal to me. Maybe people baking lemon drizzle cakes wasn't the best thing to watch from around five o' clock in the morning, as now, I was ravenous. But it was better than sitting in silence with only my thoughts to keep me company.

"It's Lexi," I said, gritting my teeth. Seriously, why did everyone think my name was Alexis? It was insane. My papers clearly said Lexi.

The new nurse smiled weakly. "Sorry, Lexi. Here's your breakfast for this morning!" She handed me a tray with a cup of orange juice and an English breakfast. I wasn't really a fan of English breakfasts, but then again, the smell of the bacon just transformed my brain into some kind of eating monster, and I started cutting up a sausage.

"Thanks," I muttered, putting a slice of sausage into my mouth. The nurse smiled, told me I was being discharged from the hospital soon, and walked away.

Oh yes. Back to reality.

Back to Levi.

Back to school.

Back to the Populars.

Well, at least I had some friends to help me through it. That was a good thing. Though how Miki and Thomas managed to forgive me, I'd never know. I was just grateful for that, and just needed to hold onto them.

Probably sympathy, but them even considering keeping a depressed idiot on their backs was already a gift.

I finished my meal quickly, owing to the cooking show marathon that still seemed to be playing on my TV, and stared down at my plate. It was smeared in tomato sauce from my baked beans, and I had still left a couple of mushrooms (but seriously, how did people eat mushrooms? I would never know) and I placed my cutlery down. I took a sip of my juice and then looked again.

A knife and fork.

A knife.

They had given me a blade, and while I couldn't say that all my thoughts were to cut myself, I had been itching to for around a day. It was just that I felt food was nice as well. Sure, the blade was plastic, but if it could cut bacon so smoothly, why not flesh?

But my hunger needs had been satisfied, and who was going to say that just a few more cuts wouldn't make a difference? I wanted to stop, but yet, I wanted to feel that feeling again. It wouldn't really matter, if I just retraced the ones that were already there it wouldn't even make an extra mark, and there was nothing really bad about it, and I just couldn't stop myself, and...

"I care about you! I will help you to stop!" Thomas's words rang out in my head.

I threw my knife under the bed. Since when was this a good idea? I just had to stop myself.