Snow on the Roads (adopted by twenty one pilots SEQUEL)

//eight - we'll be okay//

Lane's POV

I stood in the bathroom changing as slowly as I possibly could just to delay this even more. They'd see the beginnings of my downfall, the parts of me that were being torn apart piece by piece but just a few stupid comments and jealous fans. 

When I stared in the reflection, the logical part of me saw a girl who was sick and alone. But the dark parts, which were most of my brain, were seeing someone "just going through a tough time," just the person I deserved to be. The few day old scars were scabbing on my arms but still a burning red like siren lights. I stared at the scars on my thighs which were irritated and rubbed raw. And when I looked one last time before just biting the bullet, I saw my ribs poke out, the outline of them clear as day and leading to a pit where my stomach once barely protruded. But those dark parts enjoyed it. 

I walked out into the room slowly and quietly, hoping they somehow didn't remember what was supposed to happen. Brendon and Pete were talking in hushed whispers with concern and sadness just dripping from the words. Pete's eyes glanced up and met mine before his face pulled up into a small smile. Brendon gave me a similar grin then looked at the ground, willing tears to not fall right now. Pete came over and hugged me, inhaling sharply the more pulled into his chest I got. "We're gonna be alright. I just have to see, okay?" I nodded, holding back tears of my own before giving him my arms and letting him inspect the thin lines across my upper arms. Brendon came closer and looked, meeting my eyes right at the end. "We love you no matter what. Got it?" I nodded again and smiled, a tear suddenly slipping. 

After Pete looked at the scars on my arms, I lifted my shorts and showed him the rest, drawing more concern if that was even possible. "We have to wrap these as soon as possible. They're getting too irritated." Brendon nodded and went to grab gauze. Finally, Pete looked at me. "Lift your shirt Lane." Without him asking twice, I hesitantly lifted up the hem of my tank top, revealing the decaying state I was growing into. "Oh Lane," he whispered, bending down and lightly tracing my ribs and hip bones with his fingers. "Lane, what happened? Why would you do this to yourself? Why hurt yourself again and in even more ways?" 

I looked to the ground, a waterfall down my cheeks, trying to come up with a legitimate answer. None of them felt good enough. "School started and this girl who's a fan and knows everything about me just started saying all of these things everyday about me and my scars and appearance and existence. She brought up my parents and Alex and everything bad. She made me feel like I was nothing, and I already believed that Pete. That part never disappeared like everything else. And with fans hating my guts the pressure got too much. The thought of eating disgusted me, it was never on purpose." 

He pulled me into his chest and lowered me to the ground with him, knowing that I'd fall there any second anyway. "And the relapse?" he said quietly into the tangled blue. "Alex never made it to seventeen. He should have, he should have made it and not me. He deserved it and I never did," I sobbed, clinging onto him with everything I had. Pete shushed me, running fingers through my hair gently. I felt an unknown hand running itself in circles on my back, a hand I knew as Brendon's. "Why didn't you tell us darling? We would help in a heart beat."

"Because I wanted to backslide, I wanted to fight my own battles and part of me wanted to lose."

Those words seemed to echo through all of our heads as we sat in the shelter of comfort and breathing. I felt utterly drained, so Pete picked me gently and laid me of the couch, covering me with a blanket. I heard Brendon sit down next to me, pulling my head onto his lap, and heard Pete leave the room. "Is he telling," I started, not wanting to finish that sentence. "I'm afraid so kid. But it's all going to be okay. I promise." I nodded and tried to stop the steady stream of tears down my face. Everything was going to be okay.