I have to talk to Roland. It has to be today. I can't let him think that it's okay to follow me around and talk to me all the time. It's just weird. I love Arlo.

Later on, I walk into school. I decide to do it now. Where would he be right now?

I eventually find him by a set of stairs. He's alone, so now is my chance.

"Hey, Roland," I say casually as I walk up to him.

"Hey, Gwen," he replies with a warm smile.

"Um, Roland..."

"Yes?" he looks so confused.

"I think it would be best if we didn't talk anymore. At all. I think you should just keep your distance..." I trail off.

"What?" he says quizically.

"You heard me," I sound a tad more confident this time.

"Who do you think you are, Gwen?" he half shouts.

"I'm whoever the hell I want to be, thank you," that pisses him off. Big time.

He pushes me into the wall by stairs, scattering my stuff, and walks away. What a jerk.

I get to class and try not to think about what just went down. I've never seen Roland act that way. He was so terrible. Arlo isn't going to be very happy when he finds out.

I am soon on my way to lunch with Arlo, and I decide to tell him then.

"Arlo, I have something to tell you," my voice a little shaky.

"What is it, hun?" he asks.

"I cut off Roland today."

"Nice, Gwennie!"

"He was upset and pushed me into the wall."

"Do you want me to get him back?" his temper is rising.

"No, no, it's okay. I don't want you to get in any trouble."

"If you're sure..."

---

I get home later that day and can't stop thinking about it. He might keep on tormenting me. I can't rely on Arlo to protect me. I refuse to rely on anyone. I must be independent, I must be strong. I must do this for myself, not anyone else.

Later that night I start having thoughts. Bad thoughts. Thoughts of cutting.

I get out of bed and briskly walk to my bathroom. I take a look in the mirror and see my messy hair and raccoon eyes. I slide up my shirt sleeve, revealing my many scars. The shorts I'm wearing already show most of the others. I gently run my fingers over them, caressing them smoothly.

I put my toilet seat down, pull out my matchbox, and have a seat. I slide it open with care and see my shiny blades.

I'm having conflicting thoughts.

I can't do this, I must think of Arlo.

You must do this, you're feeling sad, and your eating has been horrible.

He would be so disappointed, and Ava would be, too.

Who cares about them?! You need to do this.

Time to finalize my decision.

Author's Note ~

Ha! How about that for a cliffhanger? I rarely update, but when I do, I try my best to make it good.