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You were alone, nobody was there to stop you. It felt wrong, it felt selfish. Phillip had been gone for months on deployment, risking his life as he hunted down a terrorist, and you were safe at home. But, you weren't really safe. Not with the razor in your hand, not there in the bathroom with blood streaming down your arms and tears dried on your cheeks. You swore you'd stop, you promised Phillip that you wouldn't. And for a while, you made good on that promise. Most of your scars had healed into faint lines, you'd been clean for over a year. You just couldn't take it anymore, you deserved this. The smell of the iron in your blood was so strong that it was almost suffocating, your arms covered in the sticky, warm feeling of blood as you brought the razor back across your skin. Soft 'plunk' noises were created as your blood hit the bottom of the bathtub, the red liquid flowing down in tiny streams to the drain. This would do it, this would be how you died. Pathetically, selfishly sitting in your own bathroom as you ended your own life. You'd die just as you lived. At least, that's what you thought. That was how you viewed yourself. Your arms grew weak, eventually you couldn't even move them enough to cut anymore. So, you sat there and watched as trails of blood poured out in front of you. And, you did nothing. You didn't get up to call the emergency number, you didn't try to stop the bleeding. Whatever regret you felt was not enough to stop what you'd started. You could imagine the disappointment of those closest to you when they found you, all standing and staring down at your body- your corpse. 'He was always weak.'
'How selfish? Didn't he understand that he had no reason to do this?'
'I asked him to do one simple thing, why couldn't he manage just that?'
'He had it so easy, but I guess he just wanted more attention.' Yup, that's how they'd react. All disappointed that they ever bothered spending time with such a weak, pathetic man such as yourself. You never thought you were good enough for them- any of them. You didn't understand why Phillip showered you with gifts, love, and affection. He always seemed like he was out of your league. A strong, confident military man who started his own PMC and ran it better than anyone out there. His soldiers all looked up to him, you looked up to him-
The door to your shared house with Phillip opened, no one else had the key but you and him. No, he wasn't going to be back for another few weeks, it couldn't be him. A loud voice called out, but you couldn't make out the words. Not with the blood rushing in your ears, the drops hitting the cool porcelain as your headache got worse and your body grew weaker. Footsteps came echoing up the stairs, the voice called out again. His voice. He didn't know yet, he didn't know you were wasting away alone in the bathroom. His footsteps continued, going from room to room as he searched for his darling boyfriend but he came up empty handed. Until, he noticed the light in the bathroom and the heavy stench escaping from the gap at the bottom of the door. "No, no, no..." He pushed open the door, his eyes immediately darting over to you. He fell to his knees beside you, gently grabbing your arms. Your blood stuck like caramel to his palms. "Baby, please... Please-" He choked back a sob, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable as he looked at you, searching for signs of life. "Why would ya do this? Darlin' I- I'm so sorry. I shoulda been here for ya.." He said. He removed his light grip on your wrists, moving to cradle your head in his arms. Your faint breathing was enough of a sign, he pulled out his phone and the emergency number. Everything faded into a quiet background noise, you couldn't hear what he was saying as he spoke to the operator. His tears landed on your scalp, making tears form in your own eyes. Why did you do this? How could you do this to him? He meant the world to you, he was your world and you tried to leave him. You tried to kill yourself. His face came into your view again, the scar on his cheek quivered as his lips trembled. His mouth moved, muttering comforting words that you couldn't hear. His deep blue eyes were the perfect color to represent his sadness, his overwhelming fear as he looked at you. He couldn't lose you, you kept him going. The pair of you were like lightness and darkness, one could not exist without the other.
Faint beeping filled your ears, you opened your eyes to a dark hospital room. The bandages on your wrists made them feel stiff and immoveable, they felt like shackles that reminded you of the weight of your actions. You turned your head to the side, relieved your headache was gone. Well, not gone but manageable. You saw the slumped over form of Phillip in a plastic chair next to your bed, his blonde hair on the mattress right next to your legs. He was fast asleep, even still, he looked exhausted. Your heart ached in your chest, tears pricked at your eyes again. "I'm sorry..." You whispered. A nurse entered your room, and seeing you awake, turned on the lights. You shut your eyes, the flash reminding you of a flash grenade. A weak one.
"Good to see you awake, sir. How did you sleep?" She said, approaching you with a clipboard in hand.
Your throat felt dry, "Fine."
"Glad to hear it." She replied. "Hold out your arms please." You did as you were told and she carefully inspected the bandages, "I'll need to change these, so hold still." The bandages fell onto your lap, a disgusting heap of bloody fabric. She put new ones on, then quickly scooped away the pile of discarded ones on your lap. That was all she did before exiting the room, turning the light off behind her. It was amazing you were alive, a miracle really. You knew how deep you cut, you weren't stupid. But, you were thankful. Phillip groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Noticing you were awake, he wrapped you in a hug. Still half asleep, he pressed a kiss to your cheek.
"Glad to see those pretty eyes of yers." He mumbled, holding you tight in his arms. "I really thought I'd lost ya." You could bring yourself to respond, you just hugged him back and sobbed into his shoulder. You didn't think there were enough words to express just how sorry you were and just how much you loved him, but luckily he already knew. After several moments, he pulled away. "I ain't ever gonna leave ya again, hun. I swear I'mma stick by yer side." He said, wiping the tears from your cheeks.
"Please- I love you and- and I- I'm sorry! I shouldn't have-" You choked out, another wave of emotions coming over you.
"Shh, shh... It's okay, it's okay. Darlin', shh..." Phillip cooed, pulling you into another hug. "Everythin'll be alright..."
You weren't let out of the hospital for a while and they recommended trying to send you to a mental hospital, but both you and Phillip refused. You'd been to one before, it was no walk in the park. And, you had everything you needed. He was right there, his head on your lap as the pair of you sat on the couch. He wasn't kidding when he said he wouldn't leave your side, he was there for every step you took. Everything sharp or dangerous was hidden, he trusted you but he still didn't want to take any chances. You understood that well enough. The TV was on, but neither of you were paying attention. Much too focused on each other. Your fingers combed through Phillip's blonde hair, gently massaging his scalp in a way that almost seemed reminiscent of petting a cat. He had his hand on your thigh, rubbing circles into the inner skin with his thumb. The scratchy hair of his untrimmed stubble rubbed against the top of your thigh, brushing against your skin with every breath taken. Your stomach growled loudly, interrupting the silent moment between the two of you. Phillip laughed, your hand falling away from his hair as he sat up. "I guess that means yer hungry? Y'know, ya coulda just told me so." He teased.
"But then you'd get up." You pouted.
"Like I'm doin' right now?"
"Exactly like you're doing right now."
He laughed again, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Just tell me whatcha want for lunch, hun."
"I think anything'll do. Anything sounds good after all of that hospital food." You said, making a disgusted face at the simple memory of hospital food.
"Well, if that's the case, then we're havin' taters n' gravy with some chicken."
"Sounds greasy."
"The greasier, the better."