ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ✓

F I F T Y - T W O

T/W : Self harm

Alexa

I couldn't stop crying.

I laid in my bed, stomach facing downward, clutching my pillow tightly to my chest. Tears were streaming down my face and loud sobs escaped me, making it difficult to breathe. I was gasping for air, but at this point, I wanted to fucking die.

My friends hate me. They hate me. THEY FUCKING HATE ME. Crying from abuse was one thing, but somehow, somehow this hurt so much worse, losing the best people in my life, this hurt so much worse than physical pain ever could.

I sat up and stared at my window, hoping that Michael would come here to apologize, but no one appeared in my window. It was a long shot, but I was hoping.

I took a deep breath. The tears stopped falling, but my eyes, I knew, were red and puffy, and my heart was still beating fast.

To my horror, my door creaked open to reveal Cameron. "Alexa?" he questioned upon seeing my face. Couldn't he have knocked or something? None of my Stepbrothers knock, man.

"C-cameron?" I said, in a poor attempt on trying to mock him, to show him that I was okay, and not hurting inside. But my voice was hollow and weak and shaking.

Cameron came in, leaving the doors opened a crack. He stepped over to my bed and sat on it. "Lex," he said with a soft sigh. "Be honest. Why were you crying?"

"I wasn't crying!" I said stubbornly, though my face suggested otherwise.

Cameron gave a louder sigh. "I'm not an idiot all the time," he tells me. "I can see that you clearly were. Who do I need to kill?"

"No one," I muttered. I still love Michael, Jackson and Elliot... Maybe it was a simple mistake or misunderstanding?

"Bullshit," Cameron said with a scowl. "Alexa, please tell me what the fuck happened. I don't want to see you sad."

You used to make me cry..

Fuck. Stop it. Stop stop stop. I don't want to have these thoughts. Not now. But after what happened, I suddenly found myself mistrusting my Stepbrothers again --- I mean, I thought my friends wouldn't suddenly  be so hateful to me. If that was able to happen, my Stepbrothers could go back to how they treated me before -- I'm just waiting for it to happen. I'm on edge. I'm paranoid. I'm so fucking hurt. I want this pain to stop. I can't even shed another test, it's like I cried all I could and am just a walking zombie.

"I'll be fine," I said, wanting that so desperately to be true. I have to be okay. I have to.

After having a taste of friendship with the most amazing people I ever met, it hurts for that to suddenly be so fucking gone. Why did this have to happen? Why didn't they let me explain myself? I didn't do any of that shit that they think that I did.

But, who did?

Maybe, if I find out the truth of what the Instagram page was about, and who created it, I can fix my friendship with Elliot, Jackson and Michael.

"You may be fine in the long run," Cameron started to say, "but you're not fine now, and that's what I'm concerned about."

If he wasn't careful, more tears will find their way onto my face.