~Chapter Two~

***Trigger Warning***

If you have issues with cutting and/or self harm, you may want to skip ahead in the chapter due to triggering topics. I will mark the area to skip to.

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Alice P.O.V.

I walked into my house, pulling off my headphones and switching off my music. I called for my mom and dad before I came to the conclusion that no one was home. I wandered into the kitchen and saw a note on the counter.

I placed my backpack down next to the back door and read the note.

'Alice, your father and I are having the new neighbors over for dinner tonight and you are expected to attend. We are at the store gathering dinner. We will be home soon.'

I crumpled up the note and went in the fridge and pulled out a Coke.

'Great, another dinner party.'

***Trigger Warning***

I went upstairs into my bedroom and started the shower. I turned on music to drown out any sounds in case my parents came home while I was in the shower. I let the water run as I looked in the mirror.

I looked at my face; my tired hazel eyes, my slightly crooked nose, my messy long, brown hair, my full, slightly chapped lips. I slipped my shirt off and skimmed over the scars that were scattered across my abdomen and sides, mixing with the fresh cuts. I finished undressing and took in all of my flaws and past and present self-harm.

Burns and cuts littered the skin along my body. My fingertips rose and dragged over the bumps and cuts. Tears flowed down my cheeks as a dull ache filled my chest.

I stepped into the warm water and slipped open a small box I kept on a small shelf in the corner of my shower. I pulled a razor blade out, closed the box, returned it to the shelf, and placed the blade in the palm of my hand.

The metal flashed in the light as I placed the metal between my fingertips and placed the sharp edge against my hip. With one sharp movement, the blade dug into the soft flesh, separating it. For a moment all that was seen was the white tint of the layer of skin underneath and the pink of the torn flesh before crimson blood began spilling out.

The red liquid ran down my leg, continued down my leg, and mixed with the water in the tub. After a few minutes, the shower looked like a murder scene and my shoulders were racked with sobs. Hatred welled up inside me as I stared down at what I'd done to myself.

How did I ever get here? How did I ever let it get so bad that I physically destroyed myself? Why do I feel so worthless?

After a few more minutes I managed to compose myself and get cleaned up.

***Trigger warning over***

I rinsed off and stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself, stepping into my bedroom. I looked at my bed and saw a blue dress with black lace and black, strappy heels to match. On top was a note.

'You are to wear this to dinner. No excuses, exceptions, or arguments.'

Scoffing, I crumpled the note and storm out of the room, holding the dress.

"There is no way in hell I am wearing this!!" I yelled as I barged into the kitchen where my mother was chopping vegetables.

"Excuse me? Who in the hell do you think you are? You are to put this dress on and join the dinner and act like a respectable young lady, or there will be consequences!" she yelled back.

"Like what," I replied with narrowed eyes, "are you gonna lock me up in my room for months again? Gonna starve me? Gonna send me aw-"

Suddenly a hand rose and struck me across my face. My head jerked sideways and pain erupted in the side of my face. I reached up and touched my cheek as I looked at my mother.

She looked at me with a cold glare and wiped her hands on her apron.

"Go upstairs. Put on the dress. Behave. Or you'll see how far I'll go."

I quickly turned and went upstairs. Tears welled up in my eyes and I heard the doorbell ring.

I slipped into the outfit and did my best to transform my appearance from disappointment to pride and joy.

I made my way my way downstairs and stopped on the middle step so I could listen in on the conversation that was unfolding in the living room while staying out of sight,

"-and this is Victor," a strange woman's voice said.

"Please, call me Vic," I heard a more familiar voice say.

"It's lovely to meet you, Vic," my mother replied, "we have a daughter your age, you know."

This was my cue to step out of the shadows and join the small group.

"Ah, here she is," my mother said, "Vic, this is my daughter, Alice."

"We've met, actually," he said as a big smile spread across his face at the sight of me, "in art class."

"Is that so?" my mother asked.

I studied her expression and caught a glimpse of surprise in her face before she covered it with mild interest. I rolled my eyes and plastered on a fake smile.

"Yes," I replied, "in fact, we sit next to each other."

"Oh, that's nice," Mother said.

My father cleared his throat and ushered everyone into the dining room to eat.

Vic rushed ahead of me and pulled out my chair. I looked at him and his goofy little smile and I felt a grin tug at my lips.

"Why thank you, kind sir," I said to him.

"My pleasure, fair maiden," he replied with an over exaggerated bow.

I giggled and looked down to hide my blush as he took his seat across from me. I looked up to see my mother glancing between the two of us suspiciously. I took this time to look at the other people around the table and noticed another boy whom I could assume was Vic's brother.

He was taller than Vic with short, spiky hair and the same caramel skin, but covered in tattoos.

I smiled at the thought of me having tattoos. The looks of horror on my parents' faces.

Mike caught my eye and smiled as though he knew exactly what I was thinking. We shared a small laugh and I saw Vic watching us with a small frown out of the corner of my eye.

"Alice is quite the artist. She's won quite a few art shows," my father boasted.

"Oh really? My, what an impressive young woman you've raised!" Mrs. Fuentes said.

I flashed a fake smile and turned back to my food.

By the time dessert rolled around, the adults were close to drunk and my heels lay abandoned underneath the table.

Our parents, plus Mike, moved into the study while Vic and I went up to my room.

"Wow..." Vic said as we walked in.

"Eh, it's a room,"

"It's huge! And everything looks so expensive!"

"Yeah, well, I'd prefer if it were more simple.

My parents decorated my room. They have since I was born."

"Really?" Vic asked.

"Yup," I replied, "they used to listen to my opinion but now it's whatever looks good to them. Under this paint job, it's white. Under that is a very bright blue. And under that is pink."

"Wow. I can't imagine you having a pink room," he said with a smile.

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Well," he started, "while you look absolutely beautiful in that outfit you have on, I can tell you're out of place. You shift uncomfortably, you're missing your shoes, and I can practically see you fighting the urge to rub your eyes."

"Hm. You are quite the observer," I responded.

We spent the rest of the night talking about music and art and skating. We discovered that we liked basically all the same bands. I lent him a few of my CD's so he could download a few songs onto his phone.

My mother called us back down and looked relieved that our clothes were intact and my hair and makeup seemed untouched. She cast a quick disapproving glare at my bare feet before she ushered our neighbors out into the foyer.

"Well, goodnight, Vic," I said, sticking out my hand.

Grabbing it, he bent and placed a quick kiss knuckles and smirked.

"Goodnight Alice. Mind if I tag along to school tomorrow?"

"Be my guest," I replied as I pushed him out the door.

I closed the door and went back to my room. Just as I was about to climb the stairs, my mother stopped me.

"I don't like you with that Vic boy," she said.

"Well, I'm not 'with' him," I replied as I headed upstairs, "he's just a friend."