Chapter 1-1: Falling to Pieces

An older man wielding a salt and pepper beard clutched a stack of menus against his chest as he stepped closer to the defeated girl sitting at the table, a sympathetic expression on his worn face. 

"Miss...I'm sorry, but we're locking up. I have to ask you to go now." 

She blinked away the water that gathered in the corner of her eyes and nodded, pulling herself up from the chair. She began to pull out her wallet but the man gestured that it was 'on the house.' 

Her heels hit the pavement of the dead sidewalk and despite her knowing in the pit of her stomach that there would be nothing, she pulled her phone out, a photo of her and a brunette boy set as her background illuminating the night around her. She slid her finger down, her calendar reminding her of why her chest hurt like it did. It had been four years of this to the date. She thought about smiling but it evaporated as quickly as the moisture in the muggy night air. Four years of her young life and it had been becoming more and more apparent that they were nothing more than wasted.

Jesse Rothman was the cutest guy in school and he wanted something, anything to do with her. He never failed to make her knees quiver or make her heart beat faster when he walked into a room. He never failed to break that heart every time he left either. Every time she let him back in just so he could repeat the vicious circle.

There were too many times to count. 

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She woke up to six missed calls and a long list of texts from Jesse trying to validate where he was and what he was so preoccupied with that he forgot all about her, again. He forgot her birthday the first year they were together and maybe she was too sensitive, at least that's what he told her, but she just wanted to feel like he cared. That's all she's ever wanted from him. 

This hurt the same as it did four years ago.
Her cheeks felt stiff from the salty tears that had stained them while she slept. Something in her chest moved in last night and she thought that she would sleep it off but it didn't seem to budge. It was a hollowing that she hadn't felt before. Pulling her hair in a bun, she sighed before unlocking her phone as it rang again. She stood there, breathing but not saying anything. What was she supposed to say? 

"Holland? I'm sorry, I've been up and so stressed out of my mind that I passed out last night. You know how finals week can be. I'm not a genius like you, so I've been going insane. Please, baby, let me make it up to you. Get our minds off everything and have some fun. Come to a party with me tonight, yeah? I need to see that pretty face of yours." 

It's like his words melted the ice that was forming around her soul, like he could make anything better no matter how bad it got, no matter how bad he messed up, he'd always build her back up. 

The corners of her mouth turned upward, "Okay. I believe you." 

She couldn't help herself, he was routine. A bad habit. She was just an awkward freshman when she met him, and it's like he saw something in her that no one else did. And he took that something and never let it go. 

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Some popular rap song echoed through the room of the frat house she followed Jesse to that night. She convinced herself that this time it was because of the stress of finals. Or maybe because she just didn't want to acknowledge that void in her chest anymore. A reason always seemed to make itself known. She slid the card across the glass tabletop, remnants of the fine, white powder going with it. 

"I never knew you had it in you, Hol." 

"Yeah well you're the one to thank for that." She retorted, elbowing him in the side. He grinned and pulled her to him, kissing her lips.

"You don't seem to be complaining.  You love it almost as much as you love me." 

She stumbled into a nearby bathroom, splashing water on her face. Her eyeliner was smudged and her hair was in disarray, making her look like a raccoon that got in a fight with the wind. She looked in the mirror but she couldn't see herself. 

"Maybe one day I'll stop. I can't do this forever."

The music that's thumping outside the door abruptly stopped and the air around her fell dangerously silent. A lump caught in her throat and she stepped quietly, poking her head around the door frame. The red and blue lights were pouring in through the windows.

Shit. 

Her heart drummed inside her chest as she tried to rush down the hallway toward the kitchen, planning to escape out of the back door. Her vision was blurry from the alcohol but she made it. 

Almost. 

As she was at the end of the stairs the officer's voice rang in her ears and then his hand grabbed her as she ignored him. It may have been the absurd amount of alcohol she'd consumed or being blessed with little grace, but she tripped over what seemed to be her own drunken feet. Her head met the grass, the early morning dew making it stick into her disheveled hair. She felt her hands forced behind her back and tightly placed into cuffs.

Where is Jesse?

She got her answer as she saw him and two others, a tall boy and a red headed girl, slipping past a squad car into the woods unseen.

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Her head pounded, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears as she sat against the cold concrete wall of the cell. Part of her wanted to slam her head against it as it seemed like the better alternative to dealing with her dad. She would never hear the end of this. For years she had felt worthless to her father. A demigod normally shows their gift around the age a normal human hits puberty. But she wasn't a late bloomer. She was a never bloomer. And he acted as if she had any choice in the matter. 

She strived for her father's approval all of her life. She got straight A's, was student body president, prom queen, captain of the dance team, and even went as far as to learn fluent Greek. But it never measured up to tainting the bloodline. She felt like a poisonous disgrace.

Her heart sank into her stomach as she heard her father's voice on the other side of the bars. She didn't want to open her eyes and see the disappointment on his face. Again. It's like it never really left. 

"Holland, do you understand the kind of strings I had to pull so that you wouldn't rot in here?"

"...I can only imagine." 

"I don't think you can. I had to go to Peitho." 

She looked away. She didn't know who that was, but she knew that they were like her father, like something she would never be: A Greek god. Someone important.

"Dad...I'm sorry." 

" You threw everything away, Holland. You're going to an institution in the morning so you can think about what you've done and get better. Maybe get the potential to make something of yourself back." 

She wiped away the rogue tears that started rolling down her cheeks as she followed behind her father who was making his embarrassment clear. When they got to the house she stepped inside and her heart ached even more. She hadn't been home all year. She made an excuse to spend Thanksgiving with Jesse and she was snowed in for Christmas. 

Her mother rushed to hug her and her eyeliner matted tears soaked onto her shoulder. She smelled like vanilla and honeysuckle. Like warmth, and safety. Her mother is the only person she ever truly had.

She collapsed on the bed with grass stuck to her ankles and her black, strappy party dress. Her old room was empty, she hadn't even began to box up her things in her dorm even though the school year dwindled down. She was consumed by other things. 

And now she was consumed by new things entirely -Cravings, guilt, self-hatred... 

But mostly she was consumed with pain. And until she passed out from exhaustion, she told her pillowcase all about it.

Chapter 1-9: Cut the Rope: Part Two

(AN: Part two contains some pretty rough stuff that may be triggering to some readers. Discretion is advised. I love you. <3 )

"You fucking bitch! How the fuck could you do that to me?"

He shoved her against the wall, a towel rack jabbing her in the back. She winced in pain and he pulled out another bag from his pocket and shut the door forcefully. She pushed herself from the wall, but was cornered by the bathtub. Her eyes widened when he dumped the contents of the bag into his hand, lifting it up to her face.

"Jesse, no! Please! I'm sorry! I did it for your own good!"

Tears sprang from her eyes and she moved her head from side to side and every other direction to keep herself from inhaling. Jesse was lean but he was strong and she couldn't push him away.

"All I wanted was for you to feel good. All I wanted was my girlfriend back, but no! You had to go and be a bitch and waste my fucking coke! You know you want to Holland so just fucking do it!"

She cried, her eyeliner running down her flushed cheeks.

"I don't, I don't!" she screamed, "Help me!" 

She wiggled her knee free enough to launch it upward with every bit of fight she had left, sending him to the floor. She tried to run but he grabbed her by her foot and her head met the edge of the cast iron tub, a streak of red now dripping from it.

The room was spinning and she was more focused on trying to stand up to run away than not breathing, and he grabbed her face with his free hand and opened his closed fist, smearing it against her nose. In a tragic second, she inhaled, exasperated. Her cheeks were stained with black and she sobbed with her bruised knees to her chest.

"No. Fuck you, Holland. I used to love you. Now you're just some useless skank that flushed my coke."

He stood up, dusted his jeans off, opened the door just enough to get through and then slammed it shut, the thumping of the music drowning out any cry for help she could muster at this point. 

Her entire world became fuzzy and then black all at once like the end of an old film reel. 

Fin.
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She woke up in the hospital, restraints around her wrists and legs.

What the hell?

She had no memory of what happened at first. Her head was throbbing and she felt nauseous, the cravings ten times stronger than they were before. She tried moving, but with straps on and around her, it was no use. She laid back and her eyes watered, tears coming down the sides of her face. 

Why? I thought this was a fresh start?

The door clicked open and she figured it was a doctor, or her mom, because how else would she have gotten here? Jesse left her for practically dead in that bathroom.

"Didn't forget me yet, did you?"

She jerked her head to the best of her ability, the room spinning.

"Eli? H-how are you here right now?" 

"You're only a few floors below me. My cousin was as that party. They knew you because I like to talk about you a lot. I guess me 'stalking you' has its benefits."

"Eli," she quivered, trying to hold back the tears,"I-I relapsed. He held me down and shoved them in my face and I tried to get away but then I hit my head and--" 

The tears stung her eyes the way the cocaine had stung her nasal passages. Did her parents even know she was here? Would they blame her if they knew she had drugs in her system again? 

Eli pulled up a chair and he wiped away a running tear with his thumb.

"You didn't relapse, you were drugged. There's a difference."

"But I just wanted to break up with him. That's all. I never wanted any of this. And I want out of these fucking things, why do I even have these on?"

"You were kicking and refused to let them help you. They said you need to be restrained in case you try to harm yourself or someone else, that you're in an unstable mental place."

"When am I not in an unstable fucking mental place? God, the cravings are worse this time, I feel it in my bones. I hate him, I hate him!"

She let out a breath, "The things he said to me, Eli...Like I was nothing to him all this time. Why was I never enough?" 

He scooted closer to the bed, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, "Because people aren't medicine. He has his own issues and he won't face them. You patch the holes those issues left, drugs make him forget the holes even exist. You're great, but forgetting beats patching. You were never the problem." 

"God, how are you so smart? How are you the only person who knows what to say to me to make things suck just a little less?"

"I've been through shit. It's like I told you, I've hurt people I love. The only person I loved. You don't spend years in therapy for BPD and not learn shit about people."
"Tell me?" she asked softly, looking at his face that seemed to be washed with worry.

"Here? Now?"

"Please? It'll take my mind off of the cravings."

He exhaled slowly, mulling it over.

"Her name was Rachel. She was the only person who ever understood me, who was ever patient with me. I felt like I was somehow safe from myself with her. Three years, we were together. Talked about getting married and all that shit. And then one day she just decides to leave and tells me, 'I don't know if I love you anymore.' And back then, I didn't get much help for my shit like now, I didn't know how to think about other things or control my emotions."

He paused, looking up at her. She squeezed his hand as much as the restraint allowed.

"And...she had her bags packed and I was a wreck, begging her to stay. I can still remember how much my eyes burned from crying. Cause I needed her, ya know. She was everything to me," he paused, swallowing a lump in his throat," And the next thing I know everything just goes black. I wake up and there I am... covered in her blood, a butcher knife next to me." 

He stopped, gripping her hand tightly, trying to refrain from letting his emotions bubble over into tears," I killed her, Holland. That's how I got this scar, she tried fighting back and almost took my eye out. I wish she would've," he choked, "That's the least I deserve. I'm a murderer. I'd be in prison right now if I wasn't fucking insane."

The heart monitor she was attached to beeped a little more frequently as he continued the story. If her hands were free she would have covered her mouth with them. How could Eli do such a horrendous thing? He's always so careful around her, but it all made so much more sense to her now.

"Jesus, Eli. I'm so sorry."

"That's...not usually the response I get when I tell people that story..." 

"Well I know what it's like to have to actively fight your own mind, to wrestle with the very thing that's keeping you alive no matter how dead you feel." 

"You get me in a way that no one else does. It's hard not to let my emotions get the better of me when I'm around you. And I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing...But you've had so much shit that you need to take in and I should let you rest, instead of adding more."

He stood up from her bedside and smiled the way he always did, but she gripped his hand.

"Wait. Will you stay with me? I don't want to go through this alone. Not again."

"Of course I'll stay with you. For as long as you'll let me," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

Chapter 1-9: Cut the Rope: Part One

By the tacky decorations plastered on the walls and the poinsettias that resided on the counter at the nurses station, Christmas was around the corner. A week away to be exact. Holland was surprised she even kept track of the days anymore, they all seemed to bleed together. She didn't sleep much lately, so a sunrise meeting another one before she passed out was common to her now. 

She rubbed her eyes when a voice rose her from her sparse slumber. It was Gloria speaking sweetly, telling her that her father was here to see her again, and that he had some very special news for her. 

A positive encounter with her father twice in a row? She couldn't comprehend such a thing.

She shoved her arms through a jacket and pulled it around her as she stumbled through the hall to the front desk where she met Ares. 

"Hello Sleeping Beauty."

Holland raised an eyebrow and looked up at him, "You know who that is?" she said groggily. 

"Your mother has educated me on many things. I'd be lost without her."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it. You're in love and your whole life is perfect. High five."

He raised his hand and then dropped it a few seconds later, his expression changing based on his realization.

"So what's this 'news?'"

"As part of your Christmas present, your mother and I decided to sign you out. You can't do it yourself, you don't have the jurisdiction just yet, but with a parent's signature, you can finally come home."

Her heart tumbled in her chest like loose change in a dryer. She was going home, after all this time of begging for freedom?

"Dad, are you serious?" 

"Yes. Merry Christmas, Dear."

She smiled and let out a small squeal and hugged her dad before scurrying off to her room to gather her few things she was allowed to have. 

God, I finally get to get out of here!

Not after that thought ended, doubt began to sink into her mind. What if she wasn't ready? What about the friends she had made here? Lily? Eli? How was she going to tell them goodbye?

She sat on her plastic, lumpy mattress and pulled her knees to her chest, her toes dangling off the side of the bed. Eli poked his head around the door and was smiling, but it faded. 

"Hey..." 

She cocked her head up, "Fuck, it's like you have a radar of when I'm thinking about you, and then you just show up." 

He smirked, "You're thinking about me, huh?" 

Usually his charm would make her smile, but this time, she was aloof. 

"Eli...I'm leaving. I'm going home. My dad's out there waiting for me right now." 

It was in that moment that Eli Montegomery's world seemed to come to a screeching halt, the inertia almost throwing him off into the black void of space.

"You..You're what?"

"Yeah..."

"That's awesome, Holland. I'm happy for you." 

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. He was sitting next to her on the bed now, and she straightened her legs to lean over and hug him. He smelled like he always did, mint and hospital soap. It wasn't the most alluring, but it was his. And she liked it.

She pulled away and she lingered there, close to him, her heart beating just a little bit faster, like it always seemed to when he was around. She wanted to ask what he was thinking, or if he thought that she could do it, or if this really was goodbye. But she remained quiet. she rested her forehead against his, her eyes shut, her breath inhaling him, asking for him to kiss her just one last time. 

He leaned into her, his arms around her and he whispered to her, 

"Don't forget me."

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at his icy gaze for what had to be the millionth time. 

"I couldn't if I tried." 

He smiled, "Come on. I'll help you pack."

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She sat her bags on the ground and shut the door to her father's car that parked in front of the house. Her house. It felt so liberating for her to be out in the fresh air and not have a chain-link fence constricting her. Her mother was waiting on the steps and Holland ran to her, giving her a hug.

"Welcome home, baby. I'm so glad to have you back! Ares, grab the bags so she can get settled in." 

She stepped inside and it looked exactly the same, but felt completely new. She hadn't been able to sleep in her own bed, eat food that didn't contain mystery meat, take a shower for as long as she wanted, or even flossed her teeth without supervision in so long, she forgot what freedom felt like. 

After months and months of missing out on everything there was in life, the one thing Holland wanted to do most, was just get a good night's sleep. No random screaming throughout the middle of the night, no curfew for lights out, she could sleep with her door locked if she wanted, the possibilities were endless. After eating the best grilled cheese she had ever had, and taking an hour long shower just because she could, she finally fell into her bed. Her mind started to think about what Lily and Eli were doing right now, but the exhaustion had sank in faster than she realized and she was out within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.

The next day, the sun glistened through her window and she felt refreshed in a way she hadn't in not just months, but years. It was Monday, so by this time she would be eating breakfast with Lily, then go off to a therapy session. But now that she was home, what was she supposed to do?

Her phone vibrated next to her bed, and she checked the notification. It was a long text from Jesse, explaining how sorry he was for what had happened, all over some flowers. 

"You're just not you, when you're in there. I miss my Holland," she read aloud.

"What a crock of shit."

Throughout the day, she got numerous messages from Jesse, and finally she had to ask her mom if she had told him that she was out. 

"I did. Was I not supposed to do that, honey? I mean he is your boyfriend, I would think that you would want him to know." 

"I don't know what he is to me anymore, Mom. I guess he has you fooled into thinking he is this great guy, because he's the one that got me into stupid shit in the first place." 

"Are you serious, I had no idea, Holland. I'm so sorry." 

She sighed, "It's okay, Mom. It's not your fault, you didn't know. He knows how to use his charm to get what he wants." 

But I'm waking up now.

"Now that I have my life back, I'm going to break things off with him. All he ever did was drag me down and I don't want this fresh start to have anything to do with him." 

All she sent was 'We need to talk. Soon.' And within minutes he was replying saying that he was busy tonight, something about a party, and that if she really wanted to talk that badly she would come and find him there. 

She rolled her eyes, trying to avoid the creeping discomfort in the back of her thoughts. Last time she was at a party with Jesse, things didn't end well, to say the least. But she was different now, stronger. The rose colored glasses were beginning to crack and fall apart. She wasn't so naive to his allure anymore. 

He sent her the address minutes later and she reluctantly texted him back saying 'Fine. See you there.'

For the last time.

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Although six or so months had passed, Holland didn't miss parties. She threw on some light makeup, jeans, and a sweater. She wasn't here for the booze, sex, or whatever else the scene entailed. She was here because she finally had the courage to break away from something that broke her for so long. 

The music was loud in her ears as she pushed the door open, people crowding around her instantly. She didn't notice any of the people there, not that she cared.

Get in. Break up. Get out.

When she found him, he was in the kitchen, leaning over some girl who had on too much lip gloss with her back against the wall. Her fiery red hair took Holland back six months in a matter of seconds. It was the girl who had ran off in the woods that night with Jesse. He was inches from her face, his solo cup almost spilling over from his lack of attention and sobriety. 

Had he been this 'friendly' with her the whole time Holland was away? Longer?

She swallowed a lump in her throat, pushing down anything that was trying to arise. She was done letting him hurt her. She didn't care about firetruck hair or what she wanted with Jesse. She could have him. 

Holland went over and cleared her throat. Firetruck rolled her eyes and went off toward the drinks. Jesse's eyes widened before his smile did the same. 

"Hol! Look at you! You look fantastic!"

"We need to talk, Jesse." 

"Aw, come on, don't ruin the fun! Have a drink!"

"I'm not here to drink. I want to talk to you."

"God, why are you so serious all the time? Lighten up, Hol. You used to be fun."

"And you used to be a decent guy. Guess we've both changed." 

He blinked, unsure of what to say back to that. She'd never said anything like that before. She'd never had a backbone. 

"One shot. Just one shot, Holland, and then we can talk all you want. Final offer. Take it or leave it."

He pushed himself off the wall and went over to a platter bombarded with shots and handed her one. It was an amber liquid, and she smelled it, forcing herself not to gag when the scent hit her. Fireball, without a doubt.

"You're a child," she grimaced, downing the shot and slamming down the glass on the counter.

"There. Can we fucking talk now?"

He had a stupid grin on his face, nodding, "There's my Hol that I know and love. Lead the way." 

She pushed through the crowded rooms until they got upstairs to a bathroom. She left the door open, because no one was sober enough to care about their business and she wanted a quick exit just in case things went south. 

Before the second syllable of her words came out, he interjected.

"I'm sorry I'm so shitty to you. You deserve better. I want to be the guy you deserve but I'm not. I'm just me. I just want you to love me and my flaws." 

She was sure she was going to know what to say and how to say it when she walked into this house, but now she was speechless. He'd apologized, but he'd never said for what. She never wanted it to come to this. She didn't ever want to feel as if she had given up on him. But she couldn't save him. She could barely save herself. 

"I do, Jesse. But you keep me at an arm's length and tell me you love me when it's convenient for you and expect that to be enough for me. I've given you everything and there's a difference in having flaws and just being a straight up dick. You're so self destructive you keep Death himself on his toes."

He looked like he was in pain, like Holland was taking a pick ax and excavating his emotions. He had never opened up to her, but there was a reservoir of instability and emotional chaos deep inside him and it was peeking through now. He blinked away what could have only been a tear and pulled out a credit card and a small baggie from his pocket.

"I can't do this. I need a hit. It's the only thing that makes me feel good." 

He stood up and lined the powder on the counter, dragging his face across it. He looked over his shoulder, looking at her sitting on the rim of the tub, 

"You wanna feel good with me, Hol? Just like old times?"

She slowly stood up and walked over to the sink and peered over at it. It was right there, she could do it, and no one would have to know. Her heartbeat rose to her throat and the cravings came to haunt her at her weakest hour, making her hands tremble.

Her hands settled on either side of the set up and she took the credit card from him. She cut the snow into a perfect line and pushed it, along with the plastic card and the bag off into the open toilet bowl.

"Fuck you, Jesse. Don't ever talk to me again."