Depression(Michael clifford)

Eleven

Three days had passed, and I'd been monitoring Michael night and day. I hated the thought of him being alone, feeling alone, feeling like no one cared about him. I wanted him to know that he meant the world to me.

"Mike" I called from the kitchen of his small apartment. "Mike, I made some lunch!" When he didn't answer, I became worried. I rushed up the stairs and to the bathroom where Michael was curled up on the floor with blood on his arms. He looked up like a deer caught in head lights. Tears streamed down his pale cheeks

"I-Im sorry, CJ" he whimpered. I sat down on the bathroom floor and pulled the seemingly small boy into my arms, stroking his soft hair and allowing him to place his bloody arms around my torso

"Oh, Mike" I cooed "I'm not angry at you, my love. I promise I'm not angry. It was just a little mistake. A bump in the road, and we don't get mad at mistakes" I assured softly. I let him cry into my chest for a while before looking into his eyes.

"You're so beautiful, Michael Clifford" I whispered. Michael gave a weak smile and touched my face.

"Thank you"

"How about we get you cleaned up, Hm, Mike?" He nodded slowly, and I helped him off the floor.

I lead him out of the bathroom and to his room. User the bed sat the first aid kit that I had placed there. I pulled it out and grabbed some bandages. Michael held out his arms for me to tend to, and I did without so much as a flinch. I knew it made him feel worse if I reacted. When I was done, he frowned.

"I got blood on your shirt" he whispered. I stroked his cheek.

"I'll just change it, Sweet Boy. You wait here, and don't pick at those bandages."
An: if you or someone you knows self harms, please talk to someone or tell someone how you or they are feeling! You aren't alone darlings! I love you all and stay safe!!