Scömìche One-Shots

Four Years

Mitch's P.O.V
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I've been suffering for four years.

Nobody knows. Except for you. Yes, you. And Scott, of course.

"Mitch, I'm going to the store!" I heard Scott call out to me. I faked a smile, waved him off, and he left.

And now that he's gone...

Privacy.

Just me and my friend.

I took the razor and tried to pull it apart.

"UUUGGGHH," I screamed in frustration. I laughed at my craziness.

Fuck it, I thought to myself, reaching over to grab the knife on the counter. I took it and sat there for a moment, staring at the pristine blade right in front of me. Four years.

"Just a few," I said to myself.

I dragged the knife smoothly across my skin.

One.

The front door opened.

Two.

"I'm home," Scott shouted.

Three.

The bedroom door opened.

Four.

"MITCH, NO!"

Scott dove for the knife, taking it from me right before it landed on my skin. "NO!" I yelled, trying to get up and get the metal object. Scott slid it across the carpeted floor, making it out of my reach, and held me down.

"Mitch, stop." I squirmed and tried to get out from under his grip. "No! I-I need it!" He tightened his grip, but I kicked him and he let go. I got up and ran for the shiny blade across the room.

Scott ran after me and pinned me to the wall. He kissed me, trying to take my mind off of it.

I gave in and kissed back, holding on to his waist for support. He made sure to be careful with my arm. "Mitch, it's okay," he said, stroking my hair. I laid my head on his chest and shivered under Scott's touch.

He was the only one that could help me through this madness.

"Did you take your depression pills?" he asked.

No," I said, shrugging and looking down at my feet.

"You need to take them. C'mon, you know it'll help you."

"I don't need help!" I yelled, making Scott flinch. "Yes, you do, babe. And that's okay. Don't be embarrassed, sweetie, you can't help yourself, sometimes. Everything alright," Scott whispered.

I kissed him before letting go of him.

I held the knife and brought it back to the counter, feeling Scott's eyes on me.

"Good, Mitchie, good," he let out a breath of success and relief.

"I'm sorry," I said, giving him a loose hug.

"It's okay," he said, calming me down the best he could.

"We can get through this. It might take four more years, but I believe in us. We can do this, Mitch."