He has my heart. L.s.

24

All during school it was the same. Nothing interesting happened. Louis is driving me home his fingers intertwined with mine.

"Are you sure you want to go home?" He asks worriedly. He's been doing this all day, I smile at him.

"Yes. I'll make up with my Mum. I need to do this," I say•

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I appreciate you letting me stay," I say smiling a little.

"I had fun, I think my Mum and sisters prefer you over me so," he shrugs parking. I stare at my house.
Dad isn't home, the lights are on indicating that Mum is home.

"I'll call you, Louis." I say he leans over kissing me.
I smile getting out slinging my bags over my shoulder.

Entering the house I see Mum appear from the kitchen she has bruises on her arms, a prompt purple color. I drop my bags and stare at her fighting the tears.

"Finally you're back," she says. "I don't appreciate you just taking off for two days. Your Father is beyond mad at you."

"Oh is he? What is he mad at Mum? Mad at me for being a Fag? Mad at me spitting up blood? Mad because I don't play sports and rather read? Mad because I took off? Maybe he's mad because my hair is to curly. Or is he mad because he can't control me anymore?" I ask my voice shaking.

"Harry that's no-"

"Not fair? Oh so he accuses his son of being gay and then beating the shit out of him, that's fair right?" I shake my head. "Mum he's not good for us, soon I'm going to go to university and I can't protect you!"

"Harry stop. I'm not leaving your Father that's final!" Mum says crossing her arms. The door opens I move out of the way Dad walks through he cocks his head to the side looking at me.

"Oh so you decided to come back huh?" He says coldly.

"Yes sir," I mumble.

"Who says we want you back?"

"Des!" Mum scolds.

"I don't know sir," I mumble.

"Worthless that's what you are, worthless. I can't wait till the day you're gone and out of my hair."

I clench my jaw holding back tears that are burning my eyes. He snorts and walks toward the kitchen.
I hear him pop open a beer. I look at Mum tears starting to spill. "That's fair?" I walk up to my room slamming the door earning a yell from my lovely Dad. I pull out a small, rusted, tin box from under my bed I set it in my lap, I take the lid off biting into my lip. Where's my phone? I dig through my bags finding my phone. My thumb hovers over his contact tear drops falling on the screen. I open the box looking at the blades.

*triggering*

I pick one out holding it in my hand, I remove my bracelets looking at my already scared wrist. You could do it Harry, right now. If you just cut deep enough right now, let your self bleed out. You could do it. That's what want anyway. Your worthless. My subconscious reminds me, but I am worthless. I place the blade on my skin dragging it across making a line immediatly spill red. Tears slipping over my cheeks, I do it again crying harder holding my wrist over the box as blood runs down my arm into the box. I make the cuts uneven and coming from all different directions, none deep enough to kill but just deep enough to leave a scar. I breathe heavier sniffling letting my wrist bleed not bothering to stop it. I feeling unsatisfied, lift my shirt looking at my stomach I drag the blade across my stomach, I've only done this once on my stomach. I bite harder into my lip not wanting to scream I do it again and again. I sneakily make my way toward the bathroom shutting the door and locking it. I put the blade in the sink getting a towel, taking off my shirt. I clean off the blood, my eyes red from the continuous crying.