Mac's P.O.V.
*The Next Morning*
I'm sort of confused...I feel like last night was a dream. It feels like I have died already. It feels like I jumped. It feels like I'm not here and last night wasn't real. Fuck...It feels like a dream that Michael, the guy who has bullied be for longer than I could remember, actually saved my life.
It's funny how things could turn out.
What am I saying? Things aren't any different. So what if it is 6:30 in the morning. So what if Michael is picking me up in a half hour. Will it really make a difference? It's not going to change anything. Michael is just going to get put down just as much as me and then he is going to go back and be an ass to me again. It will be like nothing has changed.
So here I am, sitting here just like I start any other morning.
I have the blade lined up on my skin, getting ready to break open the healed scars from weeks ago.
I know what you're thinking... why am I doing this after I talked to Michael about everything last night? The answer:
Well you see, everyone has their morning routines. Some people like to get dressed, do their makeup, eat breakfast, and brush their teeth.
Me, no. I like to put on the very little eye make up that I wear, get dressed into what ever clothes that I had already picked out the night before, brush my teeth, and instead of going into the kitchen and eating breakfast, I sit on my bathroom floor with my broken blade and make sure that I don't go a day without making new marks.
I know this that some of you may think that this is such a bad way to start the day but I mean we all have different opinions and you could think what you want but I am my own person and I just going to do whatever the hell I want to.
I don't need anyone to accept me. Obviously no one does. But it's not so much that I want to do it anymore.
Oh how much I would love to give this up. But no. You don't understand. No one understands.
No matter how happy I am, something inside me tells me that I need to sit here every morning and dig this damn blade into my skin.
It's like my body isn't satisfied unless a pool of blood is forming on the floor from it dripping down my arm.
> > >
I guess that I had lost track of time because I barely had time to clean up the mess that I had made before I heard my door bell ring. I quickly throw a towel over the bathroom floor and throw on my long sleeve sweater before heading down to get the front door.
"Hey" Michael cheered happily.
"Hi" I awkwardly replied in a hushed tone looking down at my feet.
"Hey, is everything okay?" He asked.
'No of course everything is not okay. Nothing is ever okay' I wanted to say. But I had to give the easier answer.
"What? Yeah I'm good. Everything is good. Nothing is wrong. Don't worry" I put on a fake yet believable smile not showing my teeth.
"You know you could talk to me if you need anything"
"Mike I said I'm fine can we just leave it alone. Please?" I snapped.
When he didn't respond I have to admit I did feel a tiny bit guilty.
"I'm sorry" I whispered.
"No. No, I'm the one who should be sorry...I'm sorry for everything that I have done to you to hurt you. It is obvious that there is nothing that I could do to make you forgive me so I guess I will just need to make it up to you in time. As for now, I think we should head out before we're late to school."
