Disclaimer: Still don't own any part of BMW or its' characters.
Title: The Cutting Edge: Discovering The Secret
Rating: Whatever is the equivalent of pg-13. No specific triggers for self-injury will be found in this chapter.
Summary: Morgan's secret is brought to light.
A/N: Wow, this story hasn't been updated in about 3 years. That's crazy! I apologize for that. Life has been freakishly (mostly for the good) busy the past years. I thought I'd try to tackle some of these stories I had lingering. I'm so rusty so apologies for any gaps/mistakes or overall awfulness this story takes on. I do not have a beta so if you see mistakes, feel free to point them out to me. Thanks.
I may be able to crank out a few very short chapters to some of the stories here over the holidays. No promises.
Also, thanks so much for all the reviews. I read them all. I didn't forget though it seems I did.
"Put it on, Matthews." The woman stood glaring at Morgan, her left hand on her hip, her right hand clutching the plastic whistle dangling from her tanned neck.
"Can't I wear my other shirt?" Morgan asked, fear creeping into her voice.
Coach Carrington looked at her in exasperation. "It's nearly 85 degrees out there and we're playing touch football."
Morgan feigned nonchalance. "That's not too hot."
The coach rolled her eyes. Every year there was a problem child. Either they didn't like changing in front of others, wouldn't take showers or brought in notes from their "parents" every single day to skip physical activity. It looked like Morgan Matthews was going to be this year's problematic student.
"Just put the T-shirt on."
All the other girls were already out on the drought-dried field. Only one girl was still perched on the wooden bench of the school's locker room. Cynthia Carrington felt the slow throb of a migraine nestling into the left side of her head.
Coach Carrington nearly growled. "Why not?"
"Let me guess; skin disease?"
"Something like that." Morgan fiddled with the hem of her shorts.
"Do you want to get written up, Matthews? Because I'd be happy to let you wear your long sleeve jersey down to the principal's office."
Morgan sighed. It was a losing battle. She began whipping the white-issued jersey off her head. Her blonde hair rose on a static wave caused by the motion.
The coach turned her head. "Be on the field in five. Not a second later." Coach Carrington walked outside.
After slipping into the short sleeve shirt, Morgan leaned her head against the cool metal of her locker. The smell of stale sweat permeated the air. What the hell was she going to do? She clenched her eyes shut and ran her right hand down her left arm. Even without looking, she knew how bad the cuts were. She felt the rough edges of freshly marred skin contrasting with thick scars of the past. This would be the tampon shower scene from Carrie only on a field of grass instead of under a steady spray of water. The humiliation would be the same.
Morgan gathered courage and dragged her feet toward the door leading to the field. Sunlight filtered through the tiny window of that door. She stepped out into the blazing hot air and her skin clammed up immediately.
Coach Carrington was smirking, barely registering Morgan's crossed arms. "I knew it would take you longer than five minutes. But, see, doesn't that feel better?" She smiled. "Long sleeves on such a hot day," she half murmured to herself, shaking her head.
The Coach finally looked at Morgan. "Well, don't just stand there. Uncross those arms," she demanded.
Morgan complied, wincing when she saw Carrington's face. The petite, but tall woman looked like she'd seen Morgan give birth to a live deer right in front of the locker room.
"Jesus H. Christ, Matthews!"
The sound of the other girls yelling came into clear focus, and one of the brunettes, Holly Dunning, was running towards Morgan and the Coach.
"Go inside now," Carrington hissed. "Put your shirt back on and wait for me in my office."
Morgan only nodded.
A/N: Hopefully, we will get into why Morgan is cutting very soon.