Mending A Broken Soul (Mavin)

Chapter Three: That New Intern...

Chapter Three:
That New Intern...

The day that I finally moved into Michael's apartment was a pretty eventful day. We got all my stuff to the apartment easily, minus the rude mover guys which Michael cussed out, obviously. We arranged the things accordingly and relaxed for the rest of the day.

Well, until I had the daunting feeling to cut again.

I became very twitchy after. Michael took notice but shrugged it off. After Michael started picking up all my signs when my depression was getting to me, I had started to develop new ones. Ones that he didn't know about yet. They had become as simple as a shiver or as complex as a bloody nose.

Don't even ask.

I got up and went into the bathroom before staring at myself in the mirror. The color was slowly returning to my skin and my eyes seemed to give away my newfound lightness.
But, I still felt as though I was falling into a deep, dark hole.

I felt the tears prick my eyes and I looked down for a moment. I closed my eyes and let the torrent of tears spill down my cheeks in an endless river of sadness.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw the cuts that were just now beginning to heal intrude my gaze. They stuck out oddly on my skin and made me grimace at the ugliness of them.

I looked away and back up at myself. Through my blurred vision I saw an apparition of what could be considered me. A happier, lighthearted version of me. I couldn't understand why I continued pretending my happiness when my entire soul and mind was screaming at me to grab the nearest knife and jab it in my throat.

Suddenly, there was a knock and all my thoughts swept out of my mind.

My one true savior. Michael Vincent Jones. The only person who could stop me from falling victim to the demons of my mind.

"Gav? You okay?" Michael asked me gently.

"Uh, yeah..." I lied. He must've heard the waver in my voice because he opened the door and looked at me.

Michael looked me dead in the eyes. He didn't bother looking anywhere else but my eyes. He held my gaze for a few moments, seeing what I would do before the pressure became too much and I let out a quiet sob.

Michael hushed me and pulled me into his tight embrace. He let me sob into his chest, not caring that my tears were quickly getting his shirt wet. He just hushed me and ran his fingers up and down my back.

After a few moments, I stopped crying and Michael led me into his room. He gently laid me down, kissing my temple before grabbing my journal and handing it to me.

"Write Gavin. Please," Michael whispered to me.

And so I did.

June 7th, 2015,

So, I moved into Michael's. It's quite nerve racking to think that this is where I'll be residing until we decide to take another step together.

Or, when we break up. Whichever comes first.

For some reason, I became very depressed for no reason. I was literally just sitting there on the couch when I suddenly felt this huge wave of thoughts come over me and I found it difficult to stay in that same spot. I also felt like I was gonna get another bloody nose and I don't think Michael was too prepared to deal with another one, so I went into the bathroom.

I cried for god knows how long. It's like every time I look at myself, I see a fake apparition of me. I don't understand why I can't just be happy. I mean, I have the greatest life possible. My past is in the past and I've already gotten through it. I'm doing the one thing that I love for a career. Well, one of things I love for a career. I don't think I'm a porn star.