READ THIS ITS IMPORTANT >>
⚠ this mentions that silly little serious thing called self harm. If you are uncomfortable with this topic please discontinue and skip to the following part. Or a completely new story. Thank you for understanding ⚠
If you are dealing with self harm or suicidal idealization. Please talk to someone about it. It doesn't have to be your parent / parental guardian (s) or your friends. Just someone you can trust. Hell, I can even talk to you too. Just know that you will get through this and you don't have to act upon those gruesome things. Depression / Self harm sucks. My sister went through both and I really don't want anybody to end up in the same position as she was. Please, just get some help if you are dealing with this problem.
SUICIDE HOTLINE.
988
people say they have a better experience texting from what I have heard. And message me for tips to stop self harm. Have a wonderful day and stay safe please.
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Craig pov
I had just gotten back from dropping Tweek off and crashed on my bed.
'why did I get hard!?'
That thought kept running through as I got more anxious as time flew by like a caged dove. I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it like a 13 year old girl. Trying to get some of my self hatred out "Shut the fuck up you're gonna wake up dad" Ruby (Ruby is Tricia's nickname by the way) whispered through my door. As she walked away I zone out. Only hearing my thoughts, and Stripe. Which would usually be comforting for me but with the thing I was dealing with currently means otherwise. I grasp my bathroom doorknob in desperation. I needed one thing to escape from it all.
Cutting. Not a very ' Craig Tucker ' action as some would say. But lately it all has been too much. From Thomas getting more violent with me and my mom. To these new profound feelings of this boy with crippling anxiety. I lock my bathroom door and desperately rummage through the medicine cabinet. Feeling the smooth surface of steel I sigh in relief. Grabbing the now tipped over box of razor blades. I took one of the packets of happiness out of its little envelope and admired its beauty. A fragile shard of filtered steel. But with a swift motion could leave irreparable damage to one's body. I lowered the metal to my now uncovered thighs. Littered with scars. Each one has a meaning. I trace my finger over a museum of some faded and recent scars. I stop on my eldest scar, which I made when my biological father left me. Then over to a few other scars I've made over the years. But my deepest of them all resembles my biggest pet peeve.
Myself. I seem to never get anything right. I fuck up any relationship that I have sooner or later. Ruby saw me red handed ( pun intended ) when I forgot to lock the door. I felt so ashamed. Tears streaming down both of our faces as we comfort each other with a warm embrace. Ever since then she has been a little easier on me. While I have been clean for 3 months. I almost even forgot about these razors until now. I feel a warm liquid dripping on my thighs. My tears. The glassy liquid that resembles somebody's sadness or distress. I wipe off my canvas ( including my face which is not my canvas ) and continue my sinful habit.
Cut
'You really think he would like you back?! you are an asshole!'
Cut
'You can't be serious if you think he would actually be your friend? it's just an act so he can out you to everyone and see the pathetic look on your face when he tells everybody!'
Cut
'why do you even try anyway? you will always be a failure.'
Cut
'This is the exact reason why your father left you. You are so pathetic not even your friends like you!'
Cut
Okay that one was a little bit too deep. Blood starts dripping rapidly down the toilet seat. Some getting on the ground. I quickly grab some gauze and start to apply pressure on my wounds. I dry up some of the blood but it doesn't look like it's working. I look to see the damage and I can see my fats and tissues. I almost pass out at the sight. But I continue to wrap my scars in gauze and wait until the bleeding stops. I take the gauze off and wash my scars with hydrogen peroxide. It stings but at least it's better than dying of infection. Then I wrap my thigh in gauze to prevent possible infection. I put some pajama bottoms on and crash in my bed ( he already cleaned up the mess dw ). Thank god Thomas is taking Ruby to disneyworld in a couple of days.
+++++++
I wake up to an alarm blaring in my ears and I attempt to get up and get ready for the day to come I walk up to my dresser of nike and pull out my Mocha air force 1's
These bitches >>
And some very baggy light brown jeans ( so my thighs aren't in immaculate pain ) and a brown belt topped off with a white shirt and my signature chull- where the fuck is my hat. I search all around my room but to no avail. I guess I'm going to school without it. I brush my hair in the bathroom. Trying to look decent. The bathroom door creaks open revealing a smug looking Ruby. "Who ya getting dressed for? You usually never dress this nice AND without your hat." The little fucker says with a sly grin. "What? I always dress nice, what are you talking about." I say with my morning voice followed with a snicker as I am still brushing my mangy hair. "And it's a Chullo. Not a hat." I say with a smirk. She scoffs and leaves the door frame muttering something stupid. I grab my toothbrush and start to brush my teeth. People think it's hard to brush your teeth with braces but I find it relatively easy. I hum to myself as I clean my mouth out. I spit and gargle with some Listerine and head out the door. Grabbing my things and heading out the door.
I chose to ride the bus today because my bike would most likely reopen my scars. I squirm at that thought and walk to the bus stop seeing Stan and Kyle who were trying to hold hands without anyone seeing. Along with a fat kid screaming at Kenny who seemed to have the bus stop sign lodged into the back of his skull. I ignore this and put an airpod in. Blasting ' I'll Write a Song for You by Earth, Wind & Fire ' And wait for that old hag to come pick me up.
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Hell on Earth { a southpark creek fic }
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