Chloe's POV:
I tried to walk away from Maddie, to keep her from seeing my wrists. "Stop!" I yelled when I noticed her slowly inching towards me, looking at my wrist. Tears filled my eyes, and I looked away. She stared at me, confused. "What's wrong?" She asked, slowly creeping towards me. "Nothing, Maddie," I say, feeling bad for yelling at her. It wasn't her fault. She pulls me into a hug. "Are you okay?" Her baby voice says. I nod, even though I wasn't okay. I was broken. We continued walking to school, kicking the leaves on the ground and counting the cracks in the sidewalk. We finally arrived at our school, and I said goodbye to Maddie who wasn't in my grade. I walked up to the 6th grade doors and waited for some of my school friends. The first one who showed up was Katie. Katie was 4'9, a couple inches shorter than me. She had long brown hair and green eyes. "Hey, Chlo!" She said with a smile. I forced a smile, a bit distraught and tired. "So, the show last night was crazy! Abby is SO mean..." She said, looking up at the sky. I rolled my eyes. "I know. Can we stop talking about Dance Moms?" I asked with a hint of annoyance in my voice. I was sick of it. "Sure..." She looked at me weirdly. One by one the rest of my friends and classmates showed up, whispering the details of their weekend. The school day flew by, and the mind sucking classes wore me down to the core. I was done for the day. I walked out of 10th period History, dark circles around my eyes. George Washington and Thomas Jefferson danced around in my head, and I shooed them away. I walked up to my locker and grabbed my books, stuffing them into my pink and white backpack. I slammed it shut, not caring that it rebounded back. The only thing in it was my books, who would steal those? I left, forcing myself into the warm, humid, air. I walked about a block away from the school before I finally looked down at my wrists. There were 2 prominent lines that were beginning to scar. Tears started streaming down my face as I remembered the night I caused those lines to appear. I washed away the scene from my mind and recollected myself. I was hungry. I was more than hungry. I was starving. I ran to my house quickly and grabbed the lunch I left on the back of the house. I stuffed my face with a sandwich and an apple, feeling terrible. I immediately threw it up, burning the back of my throat. The contents of my stomach lay on the grass, along with the guilt inside of me.
