Pick Up lines

Denouement

Looking down at my arms I realized how disgusted I was with myself. I couldn't believe that I could actually do this to myself. I ruined myself. I blinked away tears as I realized this and couldn't help but hate myself even more. It was a complete circle I swear, I would always go back to this but I didn't want to, I really wanted to just stop and try and heal, but how could I? My problems were way too much for some Therapist to cure, they were way too much for friends to cure, there was no way I could help myself either. I was already in much too deep and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. And right now, It disgusted me and made me proud all at the same time. What I was feeling really made no sense to me and I didn't expect it to.

I should probably keep these thoughts to myself and stop staring at the already beginning to scab over wounds. They stitched them with the string that absorbs into your skin, meaning I wouldn't have to get them removed, which was a relief, after I was released I wouldn't have to come back. Even though my arms will never be Tank top worthy I rather find the scars very beautiful in a sick sort of way. If I had my camera I would take the shot. . . always take the shot. . . I looked at my cellphone and grabbed it, It's not the best camera but it will do. I raised it over my badly cut wrist and took a picture with the flash, jumping slightly when I heard the door open. I looked over with a scowl as I saw the picture was blurry because of them and my scowl instantly softened as I saw Mark standing there.

"Mark" I breathed out, a smile covering my face as he gave me an obviously strained smile, That made my smile waver a bit but then he came over and pulled me into a hug, I noticed that his eyes were a bit puffy and I realized that he had been crying. I hugged him back, being careful with my stitches as I did so and tried not to show my discomfort. Mark has NEVER cried in front of me, I mean, I knew he cried but actually seeing the results of it made me feel weird, like I shouldn't be seeing this and that I should get away as fast as possible but also stay and hold him and it was all very confusing and contradictive at the same time. I gulped and he pulled away, taking the chair from the small desk area and pulling it towards the bed, sitting down at the side and grabbing my hands, taking a deep breath.

"Sorry Nathan. That was. . .very unprofessional of me. I'm sorry you had to see that. . . .I was just. . . so worried about you. . . .You know I see you as my son, correct?" I nodded, feeling my gut twisting and turning as he stared at me with an intense look, "I love you Nathan. Seeing you doing this without ever telling me just. . . I don't know. I feel like I've failed you."

"No!" He jumped at my outburst and I mumbled out a quick sorry before continuing, "You did NOT fail me Mark. I failed you. I should have went to you with the problems I had and actually confided in you, but I was scared that. . . that if you knew everything that was wrong with me that you wouldn't want anything to do with me. And I couldn't risk that Mark. I loved you too much for that. . ." I looked down at our hands, "I just couldn't risk it. . . .You know I trust you Mark. . . .I was just scared." He nodded and sighed.

"I understand Nathan. . . you can just imagine how scared I was to hear that you. . . . attempted suicide." I let out a sob, not being able to hold it in.

"I . . . .I wasn't suppose to cut so deep." I admitted, biting my lip and Mark looked up at me with slight disbelief and stood up, "I was just. . . I wanted to end it, I won't say that I didn't. . .but I didn't think I could actually do it. Then I cut too deep, freaked out, ran out of my room spilling blood everywhere and that's when Warren found me and--"

"You continue to mention Warren." Mark mused and I froze, remembering that he still had no idea about Warren, "What is Warren to you?"

"A friend." I said, breaking eye contact with the teacher and looking at his tie instead, god he had terrible taste in ties.