The Missing Pieces

Connect

A/N: So ok I messed up.

I have a brain disorder that's like ADD but worse and it's like a processing disorder and it makes it really hard to remember things.

I freakin forgot Mitch's speech session.

I got y'all after this chapter and if I forget yell at me and send me hate.

Please don't send me hate.

Ily.

And while we're on the topic of depression with this story,

If any of y'all

Like ANY of y'all

Are feeling down or depressed I need you to message me because I know how it feels and it sucks.

I don't care how late it is I'll be there.

Okay I love everyone byeeeeeee.

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*Sam's POV*

"Scott, but- You, you're so- What?"

I stare at the faded white lines on his arm.

"I know how it feels. It sucks. I know what you're going through." He says softly.

I want to scream in his face.

"No you don't."

"Trust me, I-"

"No! You don't know how it feels!" I scream and he backs up.

"I'm sorry..." He whispers.

I close my eyes. "No, I'm sorry. Please don't leave me."

"I'd never leave you," He sighs. "I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"You first." I say and sit up a little.

He takes a deep breath. "It was a few months ago, about two weeks before we came here and we met you. Mitch and I had a fight and I couldn't take it anymore. The fans noticed and some started sending hate. I got told to kill myself multiple times. So, that's what I tried to do... It didn't work, just left scars."

I want to cry. "You almost killed yourself?"

He looks away. "That's not important."

"I wouldn't be able to handle being here without you, Scott. You're my saving grace." I say through my tears.

"You mean that?"

"Yeah, I really do."

"Wow. Okay, enough about me. Your turn." He says.

"Okay, uh... Well, I used to go to school before being admitted into here. People would call me ugly and fat. When I started getting really sick, people would tell me to die. Long story short, I tried. I was here one night and I did the same as you. I tried to cut deep enough. It didn't work."

Scott has a tear rolling down his cheek. He takes my hand.

"Promise me you'll stop. I'll stop if you'll stop. Please, for me." He has pleading eyes.

"It's not that easy..."

"It is if we do it together. Even when I leave here, we're still in this together."

"Don't turn this into High School Musical." I say and he laughs.

"You're a mood killer."

"I know. I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Do the others know?"

He looks up at me. "Um, yeah. Th-they do."