8- Something To Get Me Right

Chapter title from "Face The Strange" by Good Charlotte.

This chapter includes mention of self-harm that may be triggering. Do not read this chapter if you feel you are sensitive to such triggers. If you want to read a non-triggering version of the chapter, please send me an instant message (AIM- molliegym ; MSN- flipdude830@hotmail.com) and I'll do it.

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Katie's POV

I sat there, bleeding for at least twenty minutes. I knew what I had done, and I knew that I needed help. If I didn't talk to someone- anyone- I knew my problem would only get worse. Eventually, I went up and got some bandages to bandage my arm.

I didn't tell anyone right away what I had done. I couldn't. This was something I had to deal with it myself.

The next morning, I got a phone call that woke me up.

"Hello?" I said groggily, not bothering to look at who was calling.

"Hey, it's Seb," said the voice on the other end. I sat up.

"Hey. How are you? What's up?"

"I'm good. We're in L.A. Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why are you up so early?" I looked at the clock; it was just after 10AM. "It's gotta be 7 AM there."

"We have a radio interview in half an hour. We've got a photo shoot later, and then the show."

"Oh, yeah, that's… great." I yawned.

"You didn't call last night. I was kinda worried; are you okay?" Seb sounded concerned.

"No, I'm fine," I told him. Yeah, I lied.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah… later. Bye."

"Bye." I said. I hung up.

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Pierre's POV

"Yeah… later. Bye." Seb said, and hung up his cell phone. We were outside the building where the radio station was located, waiting for the interview. Supposedly, in a few minutes, someone is going to come meet us and take us inside to the studio.

"Was that Katie?" I asked as Seb was putting his phone in his pocket.

"Yeah, why?"

"What did she say?"

"It's none of your business," Seb told me. He seemed irritated.

"Is she okay?"

"She said she's fine, and I believe her."

"Yeah, well, I don't. If there's one thing I know about Katie, it's that when she says she's fine, she's not." I said, because it's true. Whenever Katie is upset, she always says she's "fine", but obviously she isn't. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to smoke."

"Okay." Seb said. "How much do you smoke, anyway?"

"About a pack a day for the past week."

"Do you realize that you almost never smoked before this whole thing with Katie, and now you're smoking basically all the time?"

"And your point is?"

"It seems like you're kind of using smoking as a way to deal with Katie not being here."

"Whatever. I'm gonna go smoke." I turned away from him and started walking around the building.

"Do you realize that smoking isn't going to solve anything?" I kept walking. "Pierre, you need help. Cigarettes aren't going to fix your problems. Cigarettes aren't going to bring Katie back." I still didn't respond. "If you want to feel better, you need to get help, and stop smoking."

I didn't say anything, but the thing is, Seb was right. Smoking won't change the fact that Katie had sex with Johnny. And it won't make me feel better.

I'm going to need to find some other way to deal with my feelings. I thought talking would help, so that afternoon, after the photo shoot, I went on my laptop.

"Hey, what's up?" David said, taking a seat next to me. I had been sitting alone in a corner while the rest of the band was talking, messing around on some guitars that were lying around.

"I'm just on my laptop. Trying to find a therapist in Montreal."

"Really? How come?"

"I need to stop smoking." I coughed. "It's not doing me any good."

"That's pretty much true," David agreed.

"Yeah, I know. Hold on, I think I'm going to call this person, and set up an appointment for when we get back."

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Katie's POV

That day, I went to work as usual. I spent several hours listening to demos, and found one really good band. They were called Hello Kitty, and they were all girls. Hello Kitty had a show at a nearby bar that evening, so I decided to go.

"Thanks for coming out tonight! We're Hello Kitty, and we're from right here in Montreal." The lead singer, a petite but fierce-looking blonde girl, said.

Hello Kitty began their set, and I was very impressed. They were exactly what the label is looking for, and I told them that when I met them after the show.

"I'd like to set up a meeting with you at studio, to talk about a possible recording contract. Here's a business card; please call me."


When I got home after the show, I was excited, glad to have "discovered" a new band. I wanted to tell Pierre; I knew he would be proud, and happy for me.

Then I remembered… he wasn't there. Fuck.

I walked into my bedroom, and lied down on my bed. I was exhausted, physically (it was late, and I had been up since Seb's phone call had awoken me that morning) and mentally (I was run-down, and didn't want to keep going). I realized I probably didn't smell too good, so I decided to take a shower, figuring it would get me clean, if nothing else.

While in the shower, I shaved my legs. I threw out the razor blade when I was done; it was getting dull.

After I dried myself with the towel, I looked through my bathroom cabinet, trying to find my toothpaste. In the cabinet, I did find the toothpaste; but much more interesting was the razor blade in there. Pierre had once said he wanted to learn to shave with a straight razor because it's so "manly". I made fun of him for it, and laughed when he brought home the straight razor. But he had never used it; it remained in the cabinet.

I picked it up, and held it gingerly. There was something about the blade that was scary, but beautiful. Misuse of it would cause severe bleeding, and would surely leave a scar.

I held the razor blade, and dragged it slowly across my wrist. I let the cut bleed for awhile, and then, without bandaging it, I headed to the bedroom, and collapsed on my bed.

I was sobbing. I couldn't take it. I was hurting myself. I knew cutting was "bad", but I just didn't know what else to do. I knew I had to reach out to someone. So I called Seb.

"Seb," I said into my cell phone, crying. "Seb. I need to talk to you. Please."

"What, Katie?" he said. "What's wrong?" Seb sounded pretty worried.

"I just did something really, really bad," I told him through my tears. I couldn't help but stare constantly at the blood on my arm.

"Oh, no, did you- did you cut yourself?"

"I did." I managed to say.

"What happened?"

"I just- I couldn't take it. I hate myself for ruining the engagement, and I hate that Pierre's not here."

"What would you say if I told you that Pierre was feeling pretty upset about this whole thing, too?" Seb asked me.

"I don't know," I admitted. I really didn't. "I need to fix this. I need help."

"I think you're probably right. It might not be a bad idea to go see a therapist, you know."

"I know. I know. I'm going to try to get an appointment for tomorrow. I just feel like such an idiot for not being able to fix myself."

"You should never feel like an idiot for getting help, Katie. It's important."

"I know. I wish you were here right now. I hate being alone."

"I know, I feel the same way. But it's only another week. Think you can hang on safely till then?"

"Yeah," I said. "I think I can."

"I think you can, too."

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Seb's POV

After I said goodbye to Katie, I heard a knock on the door of the hotel room that I was sharing with Pierre, who at that time was in the shower.

"Hey, it's David," said a voice from the other side of the door. "Can you let me in?"

"Hold on a second," I said. I put my cell phone in my pocket, and walked over to open the door.

"Hey, you alright?" David said, closing the door behind him.

"Yeah, I'm- no. I'm not. I'm really worried." David followed me to sit on my bed.

"What about?"

"Katie just called. She was crying."

"Oh, my god. What happened?" David looked at my face, and I could tell… he knew. "She-" and he mimed cutting his wrist. I nodded. "Oh, shit."

"Yeah. She said she'd go to a therapist."

"I hope she does. It sounds like she needs to."

"I know. But I'm still worried, though, you know?" I admitted.

"I know, I can't blame you. Hearing that makes me worried too. Especially since she's alone in the apartment, what happens if she goes a little too deep?"

"I don't even want to think about that. I just hope she's okay."

"Me too."

And then the bathroom door opened, and Pierre walked out in his boxers. I could tell from the look on his face that he had heard everything.