Hey guys here's part three ENJOY
YOUR POV
I actually had a Friend. He was really my first friend, well, ever. He walked me to my class and we talked the way there. I asked him about the bullies but he seemed uncomfortable so I dropped it. I was so glad to finally have a friend who was going through the same thing as me. After I fell down he tried helping me up. Then we fella gain. It was so nice to laugh again. We were both laughing really hard. Zayn got up and started to help me up. All of a sudden he froze and his eyes were wide. I was confused for a second until I saw that my sleeve had rolled up and all my cuts were showing. I didn't want anyone to ever see those! My arm was covered with them. And some scars. I only did that when we moved. Whenever I had to say goodebye again I gave myself a cut. I didn't want zayn to know. I didn't want him to think of me as a bad person. I wanted to be friends. I started to blush like crazy and got up. Neither of us said anything until we reached the class. I was so embarrassed! When we reached the class zayn kept avoiding my eyes again. "So um ill see you after class?" He asked still not looking in my eyes. "Ya. Ill se you then" I reply. At least he wasn't going to avoid me. I really liked him. Class was so long and boring. I just wanted to talk to zayn. I wasn't sure if he even wanted to be around me anymore. After class I waited for him to come but he never did. I guess he didn't like me anymore now that he new the truth about me. I lost my only friend. I started walking down the hallway to my next class when I heard a noise coming from the closet beside me. It sounded like crying. More like sobbing. I decide to find out what it was. I crept over to the closet and slowly opened the door just enough so I could see in. It was a supply closet and it was stocked with things like toilet paper and old books. In the corner there was a person and as I looked closer I could see it was zayn. This is where he must be avoiding me. But he was crying. As I opened the door a little more I could see what he was doing. He was sitting on an old crate hunched over. He had his hand face up on his knee and in his other hand was a blade. He was cutting himself. Something must've happened to him. Something really bad. I rushed over to him and as I got close and he turned around I could see how many scars and cuts he had. He had twice as many as me and their was not an inch of his skin that was not cover in either acut or a scar. S ethic had happened to him.
