Perfect » n.h {COMPLETED}

XXII

When we got back to his room, he started asking me questions about my cutting. usually this would feel like an interrogation, but knowing that I wasn't alone and that he knew how I felt took a ton of the weight off my shoulders.

"How old were you when.. you.. uh.. st-"

"Started cutting? It's okay. You can say it." I interrupted, knowing that he was scared to hurt me.

"O-okay. Yeah.. that's my question."

I thought back, "I was 12."

"Why'd you start?" He inquired, twiddling his thumbs.

"My father's an abusive alcoholic, and my mom's never home, so I kind of had to deal with him by myself. It got to a point where I believed everything he said, and decided I hated myself, and that I deserved to be hurt. Not only that, but I was getting bullied at school as well. Eventually, I stopped listening to them, but the razor became the only thing I had; the only thing that made me feel something other than melancholy. I don't live with him anymore, he's still in Rhode Island, luckily, but that doesn't mean I've stopped." I sighed, "What about you?"

"Huh?" 

"When did you start, and why?" I looked at him, waiting for an answer. He lowered his head, raised it again, and then started to speak.

"Well.."

I lifted his head, "If you don't want to tell me, that's okay. Don't feel pressured to explain." He smiled.

"No, no, I'll tell you.. I just don't know where to start." He took a deep breath, "From a young age, I was different. How? I didn't have the slightest clue. My life at home wasn't the best--alcoholic mom, drug-addicted dad--and it led to, well," He lifted his sleeve, "this. Eventually, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety."

I pulled him into a hug. "Thank you."

"What?" He whispered in a confused tone.

"Thank you."

"For what?" He lowered his eyebrows.

"For existing. For being you. For living. For fighting." He smiled. "I've lost almost everyone I have.. And.. I just... Please.. Don't leave me too."

A tear escaped my eyes as I buried my head into his neck. "Please."

"I promise." He hugged me even tighter, "I will do everything in my power to keep that promise." He pecked my forehead, not in a romantic way, more in a comforting, brotherly way.

"So," I started, "video games?" He laughed, getting up and walking over to his Xbox One.

•••

We ended up playing Fifa for hours.

Eventually, I fell asleep in the bed. 

I woke up the next morning, Mikey in the bed opposite mine and sunlight peeking through the dancing curtains.

Buzz.

I picked up my phone, looking at the recent messages.

MISSED CALL - Al(yssa) Pachino

4 NEW TEXT MESSAGES - Al(yssa) Pachino

I looked at the most recent message.

From: Al(yssa) Pachino

To: me

Melanie, this is Alyssa's parents. We were calling to tell you.. Alyssa died this morning. We are so sorry...

No.

No!

NO!

This can't happen, my best and only friend, died of cancer.

I was already soaked in salty tears, making the pillow wet as I did so.

I ran to the bathroom. Emotions overwhelmed my body, keeping me from breathing properly. Not knowing what else to do, I take my spare razor from my purse and turn the shower on, locking the door and praying Michael won't hear it.

I just have to forget everything... Just about, 8, 9 cuts. Per arm. I'll then wrap them in toilet paper and pull my sleeves down. Mikey will never know.

That should be okay.

(A/N)

Hey guys!

Hope you liked this chapter! (also DONT KILL ME IM SORRY)

HELP - I'm confused. Earlier I checked my Wattpad and Perfect had 1k reads (oh my god aGHDEGDJHHNK) but now it's saying 989???

idk im not going to stress about it.

Anyway, that's all,

~M xx