My Only Insanity *Shoey Fan fiction*

Chapter 23: Stockholm syndrome

{A/N: EXTREMELY MESSED UP AND ADULT CONTENT WRITTEN IN THIS CHAPTER, BEWARE.}

{Joeys Pov}

"Messed up."

"A sin made into a person."

"A freak mistake."

Having a personality disorder, people will say these things.

They don't know we can't help them. They are a barrier between us and who we really are- a filter that takes the things we do and say and feel and makes them into something 'strange' whether it be makes you extremely less confident or extremely too confident or extremely too much of a danger to yourself and others.

I like to think of my disorder as one that's not as terrible as those who surround me. Sure, I don't want to eat anything at all, and I used to try and puke up what I do eat, and I starved myself to near death, and that it's a miracle I survived, but mine isn't that bad.

For what they told me, mine will only be a bump in my life. It won't be
My life.

But for those with actual personality disorders- Narcissism, Antisocial, Etc- those will forever have a grip on them.

Because you can't get rid of your personality.

Mine is more of a mental disorder, matter of factly.

Shane's is more of a mental disorder too. Most likely and hopefully, he won't be clinically depressed forever. But it's not just that anymore. Other things are taking over him, but I feel the need to take care of him.

Because he can't help how he is. He's just clinging on to me because maybe I'm the only one, and I don't mean to flatter myself, but the only one who has made him happy in a long time. Maybe I'm the only one who has understood him this far out. I couldn't ever leave him. Not now, not ever, really.

I was lying in our small little bed, with Shane, and he has already drifted asleep. We slept in our boxers and he was smiling in his sleep, and I hoped he was having good dreams.

He deserves them. He deserves the world.

Now that I come to think about it, he isn't messed up. He's beautiful and it's so nice that I have someone who cares for me so much.

So much they put me in danger.

I wake up. My heart is pounding in y chest and it's four in the morning.

Just like in my dreams, I was sleeping on Shane's chest. But that's pretty usual.

What am I thinking? Shane needs help. He's not innocent.

But maybe it isn't really his fault.

I take a deep breath in a and out. Maybe it was too loud because Shane's eyes pop open.

Shane: Joey? Is someone here?

He asks quickly and quietly, my head falling off his chest when he turns on the lamp by the night side table.

I rub my eyes.

Joey: No Shane. No ones here.

Shane: Are you sure? If it's Luke I swear to god Joseph-

Joey: No! No ones here, Shane!

I shout whisper. Shane nods quickly and agrees.

Shane: Alright. No ones here. How are you? Why'd you wake up?

I shook my head.

Joey: I don't know. I had a weird dream.

Shane pushed the hair from my eyes.

Shane: Okay, I love you.

Joey: I love you too.

I said slowly and reluctantly. Shane took a deep breath after that, which scared me for a second- making me think he might do something. But he didn't and just nodded with a quiet "goodnight" as he turned off the lamp again.

I sighed and laid my head back on his chest again when he settled down because he had became my favorite pillow somewhere along the crazy ride.

I closed my eyes and dreamed again.

Shane was sitting on top of my thighs, holding my legs down. I was fully naked and he was fully clothed.

He had a card board cutter in his hand and he rolled up his long sleeves. All that was on his wrist were the thin lines were his arms had mysteriously and out of no where gotten restitched.

My initial though was- Oh no. He's going to cut himself in front of me.

That's my worst fear. It would kill me to see him hurting himself.

But instead he smirked down at me as he twirled the cardboard cutter in his hand, and beat the end on his other palm.

Shane: You excited?

I wanted to scream "NO! WHATEVER THE FUCK YOURE DOING, KEEP ME OUT OF IT!" But my head nodded quickly and Shane smiled. He was happy about what he was about to do.

He brought the cardboard cutter to my chest. It was pressed down, but I could feel its presence as it glided down my chest to my v-line.

My v-line was very prominent due to starving myself. I didn't understand how I could hold Shane's weight on my bony thighs.

But Shane bit his lip, turned on, and made a cut down on of the lines of my v-line.

It was a deep cut and the red dots that appeared were quickly replaced by the thick red line, that started to drip down.

And Shane was so happy.

He cut the other one exactly like he had previously, and the reaction the same.

Shane: Such pretty hips.

Shane ran his finger over them, and traced circles around them with the cardboard cutter, leaving thin lines.

I was about to pass out from the pain, I felt it in my stomach.

I woke up again, my heart pounding again.

I felt dizzy.

I looked down at the white sheets covering my body.

And I screamed.

Shane woke up and turned on the light, looking at me- about to ask me what was wrong- until he saw too.

He yanked the stained sheet off me and carefully put me in my wheelchair. It soaked my boxers, and stung. I held the boxer elastic with my thumb so there wasn't so much presser on it as Shane jammed the door open, and began to run me down the hall.

I was sure I was going to pass out.

The blood ran down my legs and Shane made a quick right and pushed me straight into the hospital section.

I was bleeding, soaking in my own blood, and I didn't know why.

{A/N: Sorry for the short chapter wanted to update}