Becoming Bad Again

Chapter 5

I had to wake up early so I could shower before Luke did. He always took forever in the shower, so this way I didn't have to wait on him or slip on the inevitably wet floor.

I tried to avoid looking on the mirror, but of course I just had to look in it as I passed by. I'm pathetic and disgusting. Usually, I would have cut by now, but Luke was in the next room. I really wanted to cut, though.

I took off my coverage bracelets one by one, and placed them on the counter. My scars and cuts were now on display for the world to see, and I just felt totally disgusting.

I jumped in the shower and quickly showered. I had an extra step to do today in my morning routine.

With a towso wrapped around my waist, I pulled out a bottle of concealer to cover the evidence of my self-hate. I quickly put a little on my wrist and rubbed it in. I had learned before that if I used a lot then it would just be more noticeable to other people. You could still see the scars, but you actually had to be looking to notice them now.

I slipped the bracelets back on, and opened up the door to see Luke mid-knock. I raised an eyebrow at the tall, blond boy while he tried to figure out something to say.

"I was just checking on you. You haven't exactly been yourself lately, so I was getting worried." Luke explained. I didn't even flinch. I had been told that exact line so many times that I could throw someone off without trying.

"I'm perfectly fine, Luke. The stress of recording everything perfectly has just been getting to all of us lately." I lied smoothly.

"But, that doesn't explain why you didn't want to come to the beach..." Luke trailed off and I realized exactly what he meant.

"Are you implying what I think you're implying, Luke?" I deadpanned.

"No! I mean yes?...I don't know. I just..." Luke struggled to find the right words. "I'm worried, Ash. And most self-harmers relapse at least once in their lives."

"You think I don't know that, Luke?" I rolled my eyes. "I do. Trust me. I've had plenty of relapses."

"What do you mean?" He questioned. His blue eyes looked at me worriedly. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of what I had just said.

"I didn't stop self-harming overnight, Luke. It took years to stop. It wasn't easy, but I did it." I had to look away from him at this point. "It was really hard, and I relapsed a lot more than I even care to admit."

"I never knew it was that hard. I figured it be harder digging a blade into your skin than to never do it again." Luke admitted.

"Have you ever felt so angry with yourself and at the world that you've thought you wer going to explode?" I asked Luke randomly.

"No?"

"I have. And it's not fun at all. When it gets like that, you just have to do something so you don't end up exploding."

"I've never thought about that before, but you would tell me if you started feeling like that again, right?"

"Of course." I lied before getting fresh clothes to change into.
-
We were at the actual beach and I was hating it. I would have gotten into the water, but I didn't want the makeup to get wiped off my arm in the process. I readjusted my bracelets and glanced at the barely noticeable scars. If they knew, I would definitely be kicked out if the band.

I couldn't live without the band. These three boys had wormed their way inside my heart to the point that they became my brothers. Only unlike my actual family, I could actually tell them things that bothered me and they would listen. I loved my real family to pieces, but my siblings were still only children and my Mum would have a panic attack if she knew half the things that went on inside of my head.

I fixed my bracelets again. The boys couldn't know about this. They'd absolutely hate me if they found out. The first time they found out was a couple months after I had joined the band and it wasn't pretty.

Luke was actually the first one to notice my scars. We had been banding again, and had decided on a movie night. First though, I had driven everyone somewhere to get something to eat before going back to Michael's house. Luke was being quiet, even for him, but I didn't think anything of it. He was 15, so I summed it up to standard teenage moodiness.

"Ashton, can I ask you something?" He had asked while we were all settling down for a movie. He had a very grim look in his eyes, and at that moment he looked far older than 15.

"What is it, Lukey." I asked him, concerned. I'd do anything for these three boys, even back then.

"Why are there scars on your wrists?" He had asked quietly. The question had drawn the attention of Michael and Calum, who had previously been arguing pretty heatedly about FIFA. I felt three sets of eyes on me as I gulped and formed some type of excuse in my head.

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Luke. There aren't any scars on my arms." I had scoffed.

"Prove it." The usually extremely quiet boy had challenged.

"I don't need to, because there aren't any scars there!" I chuckled nervously. I would've been okay, but Michael and Calum just had to get involved.

"Ashton, show us your arms!" Michael had demanded angrily. I was about to argue back with him when I felt little Calum (at the time) grab my sleeve and yank it back.

"Ashton..." Calum had whispered in pure agony before tears started to fall from his eyes. Michael's eyes snapped over to my wrist as well.

"Ash, why didn't you just tell us?" He had asked.

If only it was just that simple. It wasn't then, and it isn't now.