Experience

Chapter one

"Other people have it worse."

That's what they said to me, every single time I tried to explain what was wrong. Every time I tried to open up. But I've had enough. I won't open up anymore. What's the point if no one is going to believe me anyway?

I guess this is a strange way to start, but hello. My name is Saturn, and I'm 15 years old. Yeah, I'm young, but does that even matter when it comes to mental health? It doesn't, right? You tell me, because I don't know what's right or wrong anymore. I used to try to share my thoughts and opinions, but people didn't listen. So I stopped.

Now, I just follow along—believing, listening, doing whatever others tell me to. I can't even decide for myself whether I want to live or die. Sorry, that's a bit deep for an introduction, huh? I don't want to scare you away. But anyway, here's where my story really begins.

I was sitting in an empty room.

The silence was deafening. My own thoughts were louder than anything else. I sat on a chair, a desk in front of me with a paper covered in questions.

"Where am I?" you might ask. I think it's called a mental hospital.

But let me take you back to what led me here...

Earlier that day:

"You can't keep this up, Saturn. You need to tell us why you're like this!" Aiden, my best friend, shouted at me.

"Shut the hell up, you're so annoying," I snapped, shoving him away. "You wouldn't understand," I added, trying to stay calm, though Aiden clearly wasn't.

"Saturn." He said my name. I looked up, and we made eye contact. "Saturn," he repeated.

"Hm?" I muttered, confused. Why was he repeating my name like that?

"Saturn."

I could tell I was driving him as crazy as I felt. His expression grew even more serious.

"I found out," he finally said. I froze. He found out? No... that can't be.

"What do you mean, Aiden?" I asked, anxiety creeping in like it always does. When I get anxious, it feels like butterflies are crawling up my throat, making me want to throw up. And that's exactly how I felt right now. I covered my mouth instinctively, but Aiden knew me too well. He could see through it.

"Saturn, it's okay," he said gently.

"What's okay? I don't know what you're talking about..." I tried to play dumb, hoping he didn't know what I feared.

"Saturn, show me," he demanded. It wasn't a request—it was an order.

No. Aiden can't see. Not this.

"Show you what, exactly?" I said, pretending I didn't understand. But Aiden wasn't having it. He was on edge, ready to snap.

"Saturn, this is serious. I'm not going to judge you, just show me. I want to believe it's not real. Tell me it's not real," he said, almost pleading.

I was dead. There was no escape now.

"Look, Aiden—" I started, but he cut me off, more forceful this time.

"Show me!"

His anger was terrifying. I felt sick. I wrapped my hands around my throat, trying to hold everything down, but my vision blurred. Was I crying? I couldn't be. Not over this.

"If you don't show me, I'll look myself!" He grabbed my wrist, determined.

I stared at him, terrified. He couldn't see. Not now. The scars were still fresh.

Slowly, he pulled up my sleeve, revealing inch after inch of red, raw skin. Some scars were still covered in dried blood from the night before.

I looked at Aiden, not sure what to expect. His expression was a mess—anger, frustration, sadness? I couldn't read him. He ran his fingers softly over my skin, and to my surprise, the touch felt... comforting.

But I didn't understand what any of it meant. His reaction didn't make sense.

He looked into my eyes, and with a voice heavy with emotion, he asked, "Why?"

That one word echoed in my mind. Why? Why did I do it? I didn't have an answer.

"I..." was all I managed to say before everything went black.