I got inspired by the Butterfly Effect, which basically is, whenever you want to cut, you draw a butterfly on your hand / arm. You can't do anything harmful until the butterfly fades. It helps if you name the butterfly after someone who means a lot to you. And, others can draw a butterfly on you, and those are the most special butterflies.

Side-note: I use the Butterfly Effect whenever I want to cut, and by the time it fades, I'm off edge.

Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock, or the idea of the Butterfly Effect.

It's hard to continue hiding being the walls that you cautiously put up. It's so hard because people are constantly trying to break them down, but letting them in, that's too risky. It would mean that your secrets would come crashing down around you. You did care about her, and you trusted her, but not enough to let her into your heart. The last person you had let in that far, let you down, jaded.

It's hard to cover up the scars that were placed all over your body. It's so hard because it's summer, and always upwards of ninety-five degrees. It would mean that your deepest, darkest secrets would be exposed to the world. And, you're not sure if the world is ready to know about how bad your depression was. You haven't told anyone about your problem. You are afraid to hear the words 'Mental Institution' because it would prove that you were crazy all this time.

You snap out of your thoughts as she walks over to you, looking so perfect. Her dark hair is flowing with a bright smile and big, brown eyes. She looks like those runway models, looking completely irresistible. You can feel your insides turning to mush, instead of being ice cold. She sits down next to you at the table, not saying a word. She is still smiling, which is a good sign. Unless, you twistedly think, she is as good as hiding secrets as you are.

She takes you hand, and leads you out of the cafeteria. Once, you are outside, alone, in the musky summer night air, she pulls a sharpie out of her pocket. You watch as she grabs you hand, and started to draw on the back of your hand. You remember those times when your mom told you that you'd die from ink poising if you drew on yourself. But, you didn't care, because she was drawing on you.

"What's this?" You ask, as you stare at the butterfly that she has drawn. She gently kisses your cheek, and then looks at you like she knows everything, even though you've told her nothing. You sigh.

"It's a butterfly," She says, before kissing the butterfly. You can tell that she knows a bit of your secrets, if not all. She's always been observant.

"Why?" You ask, trying to figure out why she drew something so girly on your hand. She takes a seat against the wall on the woodchips. You join her on the ground, even though your skinny jeans make it difficult, and you don't like nature all that much. But, you do it because of her. It's amazing how she has you wrapped around her finger. Not that you're complaining.

"Give it a name," She softly said, as you laid your butterfly hand on her knee. You watch her blush, "Name it after someone important to you."

"Mitchie," You confidently say, as she brightly smiles. You don't even care about her crazy antics anymore.

"So, this is Mitchie," She says, pointing to the sharpie butterfly. She takes in a deep breath, and looks at you, "You can't harm yourself while Mitchie's there because that butterfly cares about you."

You don't say anything as she continues to stare at you. You try to push away the awkward silence by saying something, but nothing comes out. You look down to the butterfly, and when your gaze comes back up, she's crying. You instinctively pull her into your chest, as her tears splash on your shirt. You rub her back, trying to me as comforting as possible.

"I won't," You finally whisper, making a silent promise to yourself that you will never ever cut or burn yourself again. She pulls away from you, still looking you in the eye.

She reaches for your shirt sleeve. As she starts to roll it up, you don't protest. You realize that the big bad walls that you were hiding behind were crumbling down because of her. She gets your sleeve to your elbow, taking in the scars and burns that you inflicted because you didn't know what else to do. She smiles, as she starts to kiss every scar of yours.

"Does it hurt?" She tentatively asked, as her lips brushed against your skin. You smile, and shake your head. Before you know what's happening, you're crying. She looks concerned, as if she hurt you or something.

Neither one of you say anything, as she pulls you into her chest. You feel comforted, and welcomed, and loved. You look over to the butterfly, thinking it could be the best thing that ever happened to you.

Fin. I hope you liked it. I would love to hear anything anyone has to say about this, whether it be about the oneshot or the Butterfly Effect itself. Also, I am always open to talk about whatever. You are never alone.