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It was a beautiful morning, truly. A nice and even temperature, perfect sweater weather. And the sky, oh, it looked like something out of a movie— almost didn't feel real.
But despite how lovely it was, the morning was just as bleak and awful as every other. Just another day to be awake and get ostracized by everyone at this bullshit school.
And so, with the absolute least effort, I got ready for school. Baggy ripped jeans, Napalm Death shirt, red flannel, black fingerless gloves that went all the way to my biceps and of course— my walkman. I'd rather die than leave without this thing.
I made my way to the door, grabbing a piece of toast I'm not gonna eat and putting on my converse, not bothering to tie them.
The walk to school was peaceful. It was quiet and nobody tried talking to me. That was until I saw Jason Carver and some of the other basketball idiots. Not Lucas though, he was okay. Most of them were fine, actually. But there were a good three that wanted my head hung on their walls.
Trying to walk past them was impossible. Not even three steps and they spotted me like a shark drawn to blood in the water. They started walking towards me, which meant only one thing.
Fucking.
Run.
So I bolted, trying to sprint and avoid them. I could hear their footsteps behind me, sounded like a goddamn stampede. Hadn't even been two minutes and I thought I was gonna puke.
The chase felt endless, my lungs burned as I took step after step, pushing myself beyond what I knew I could normally handle. This was going to kill me.
But finally I saw the school, and luckily some of the other Hellfire members. Mike, Dustin, Garreth and Eddie. These freaks were my lifeline.
I couldn't get a word out before I collapsed in front of them, my knees giving out on me. Just my goddamn luck.
"Holy shit, are you okay?" Dustin fell to his knees with me, placing his hand on my back as I heaved to catch my breath.
Giving him a weak thumbs up, I coughed a bit and shut my eyes, trying to focus on not passing the hell out before school starts. Such a great start to the day.
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Finally back in my room, it was nice to relax in my bed. School was torture and just overall exhausting. But hey, nothing beats the cool mattress I fall onto every day.
That comfort didn't last long though, because of course it can't. Just laying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling— my mind strayed too far into the void.
The constant thoughts of blood made their way to the front, my head filling with thoughts of bleeding out and getting hurt. It was almost intoxicating.
And thus, I succumbed to the temptation.
Grabbing the razor blade from under my mattress, I held it between my teeth as I tugged my gloves off, staring down at the fresh and old scars and scabs.
Pulling the razor out of my mouth, my hand shook as I slowly brought it down to my arm, carefully gliding it across my skin.
Watching the blood slowly bubble up from the slits, it was like a drug to feel. Every sting was blissful, like a sweet and fiery whip.
It didn't take long to get lost in the daze of pain, my head going fuzzy and I swapped between arms, letting the crimson drip down my arms.
"...what are you doing..."
I froze, my body running cold as I looked up at the all too familiar voice.
Mike was stood in the door, staring down in horror at my arms. This was too much for him, too much for me.
"Look— I can explain!"
There wasn't a chance for me to get another word in, he shut the door behind him as he walked over, kneeling beside my bed as he gently took the blade from my hand.
I couldn't speak, frozen in place as the fear slowly settled into my bones. Tears rolled down my face as I started to break, my breaths quickening as the panic rose.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't stop, I don't know what to do!"
Mike didn't speak at all, barely sounded like he was breathing. But honestly? This was so much better than when my sister tried helping.
There wasn't any verbal communication, just a comfortable silence with him. Pointing him to the medical supplies stashed under my bed, wincing every time he silently cleaned the blood off, the tenderness of how he put bandages on my arm.
We didn't need to speak though. Mike and I had a silent bond, neither of us hearing the affirmations we needed in our homes. But the silent talk of love, it was perfect.
No stress of saying the words, just small things that only we know the meaning of. But sometimes, sometimes I'm lucky.
We were lying down in my bed, my head on his chest as I tried to keep myself steady. Mike's mouth opened and shut a few times, then he silently muttered "I..I love you."
I couldn't help but cry at that. He's never said it before, and to hear someone genuinely and softly say they love me...it shattered my heart.
So he let me cry into him, my tears drenching his shirt as I sobbed and wailed for what felt like hours.
And as cliche as it felt to do, I cried myself asleep in his arms. A somewhat good end to such a shitty day.