Suicide ↠ Kellic

Vic

Edited✔️
(I'll label all possibly triggering chapters as Id hate to upset someone, if anyone needs anything, needs to talk, my instagram is @linkpemonadex)

Song: ready to resist- Matthew James Cogley

Before starting, I'd just like to say that Matthew James Cogley was a close friend of my uncles, who, unfortunately, committed suicide last Christmas. It would mean the world if you listened to the song.

V I C

White. That's all I could see, just whiteness.

My eye lids where heavy, like weights were dragging them down. I was waking up.

"Vic," someone whispered, Mike, I'm guessing, who else would it be? I wasn't yet strong enough to speak, instead I made a groaning noise and attempted to roll over, forgetting all the needles and wires stabbing into me.

It wasn't long before the doctors entered the room, ushering Mike out and running tests on me. I was so used to it I hardly felt claustrophobic anymore.
"Victor," one of them spoke, "Victor, Mr Fuentes can you hear me?"

I groaned once again, feeling a dull ache in my wrists.

"Mr Fuentes, can you hear me?" the doctor said again.

"I can fucking hear you." I snapped, "let me get some fucking sleep!"

My tired state, anxious state left me on edge, and the needles jabbing into my flesh didn't help settle me.

After flashing a light in my eyes and tapping random parts of my body, they finally left, leaving me to sleep alone.

F L A S H B A C K (Trigger Warning)

My hands shook and the silver blade glinted in the dim light shining through the gaps in my blinds. Old red lines already traced my tanned skin. My scars. I wasn't crying, I couldn't. I never can anymore. It the dull emptiness that pushes me over the edge. The numb feeling in my head and heart. I just want to feel something.

"Fat."
"Ugly."
"Faggot"
"Pussy."

The words flickered through my head. Repeats of long, seemingly endless days of constant abuse. Abuse at school, harsh words and heavy hits. Abuse at home, from my dad. Abuse in my own fucking head. There is just no end to it.

I dug the blade into my skin, wincing as the crimson liquid tumbled down my wrist.

I made another incision.

And another.

Soon a puddle of blood lay dormant on the tiled bathroom floor.

On a whim, I ran the blade, pressed hard, across my wrist, slashing it open to an explosion of blood spurting from the gash. I felt woozy. Sleepy.

I stumbled from the bathroom and onto my bed. The white sheets were ruined as soon as I sat on the bed. I lay my head back.

"I'll shut my eyes," I hummed, "just for a second."

End of Flashback

Another suicide attempt

I propped my back up against the back of the hospital bed, stretching slightly as I did so.

"Morning," said a low voice, making me jump slightly.

"Jesus, Mike, you scared me," I gasped, placing my hand on my heart.

He chuckled and pointed at a tray of food beside my bed, "they told me to make sure you eat it, Dr Glenn-Kooper said you looked a little thin."

I nodded, reaching out and grabbing the tray which had a glass of juice, a bowl of pasta and a brownie.

"How long was I out?" I asked Mike whilst chewing some pasta.

"A few days, it's Wednesday now, and you were admitted here on Saturday night, I.. Uh, just got home on time to save you."

It went quiet for a while.

"I didn't want saving," I mumbled softly, shaking my head.

"What else can I do, Vic? You're my brother, I'm not just gonna leave you to die."

Shamefully, I didn't say anything.

"Fuck it Vic. Why do you do this? Why do you think no one cares about you?" He said, showing some emotion towards what I had done.

"Because no one does care," I stated simply, shrugging my shoulders lightly.

"I care, Vic! I fucking care. I need you! Your my older brother and I love you, I might not show it that often but I fucking need you, Dads out most nights and fuck knows where Mom is, the only person I truly have is you, and I've nearly lost you more times than I can count! I can't loose you Vic, I fucking need you," Mike cried, letting a few tears slip out. I haven't seen Mike cry since he was 4, and that was when Mom left us all for some richer guy. The tears that began to roll down Mike's face made me snap. All this time I've thought that no one needed me, that I was the person that always needed someone else, but throughout all of that, Mike has been there, Mike was there the first time I tried to kill myself, Mike was there when he found me beaten and bruised by some kids in our school, he was there the first night dad got drunk, he was the one who took the blade from my hands when he saw me cutting my wrists, and all this time I relied on him, when he was the one who needed me, and I wasn't there for him.

What sort of older brother was I?

-

How old is everyone?