Work Text:
He's not dead.
There's stark white where there was bright red.
His throat feels burnt.
There's beeps where there was silence.
He did it twice.
Pills and slits.
Blood dripping.
His parents must care, they would've had to be quick.
Maybe he should've used his father's gun instead.
They tell him that he no longer a danger to himself.
After three days apparently he's cured.
They say he's changed his mind about wanting to die.
He hasn't.
But what else are they meant to tell a sixteen year boy.
They can't tell him what to do now.
What are you meant to do when you're unsuccessful in killing your self?
Live?
But what happens if you want to try again?
His father makes promises.
His mother cries.
His friends are shell shocked.
Therapy happens before they allow him to leave.
Welton and the play don't get mentioned.
There's raised scars on his wrists.
He picks them.
Watches the blood drip.
Lies in the snow in his backgarden.
Red against white. Red vs white.
Failure and disappointment vs fresh and pure.
More bandages and therapy.
Empty promises and too fragile hugs.
Still wondering what is meant to happen when you try to die and it doesn't work.
How can he be alive when he's dead?
He's meant to be dead.