letters to dan // dan smith

Chapter 2

A young, wild-haired 21 year old Dan sits alone in his small apartment. A cramped space, which could fit nothing more than a bed, a desk and a bookshelf. Dust settles on his keyboard. Dan hasn't played for a month now. He would never be good enough to make a career out of it. His english lit notes sit in front of him. No point going through them. He had failed the year, and didn't have the money to repeat.

His mum had kicked him out. Steph wouldn't talk to him anymore. Jobless, friendless and soon-to-be-homeless Dan sits alone, in is small apartment, not making a sound. Thinking.

Someone knocks on the door. He ignores it, but through the glass square beside the door, he can see Steph's profile.

"Dan! Dan, open up. We need to talk!" She calls.

He ignores her. Instead he stares at the blades lying beside him. Glinting. Taunting. He picks one up. His phone buzzes.

"Dan. I can see you through the glass you idiot. Open the door."

Dan's hands are shaking. 20 seconds, that's all he needs. 20 seconds of invincible courage. Dan's phone buzzes again.

"DAN! PUT THAT THING AWAY OR I'LL BREAK THE DOOR DOWN!"

Again, Dan ignores her. Lifts the blade to his left wrist. Presses. Red droplets appear.

"DAN I'M CALLING 999!"

He presses harder, drags the blade across his wrist. Blood begins to pour down his arm. His head pounds. Sweet relief. Draining himself of his bad blood. It gets on his clothes, his books. Everything.

The door slams open.

"Dan!!" A voice screams.

***

"Dan. Dan!" Someone shakes him, and he sits up, rubbing his hands through his messed-up hair.

"Woody? What're you doing here? What's the time? Where are all the other guys?" Dan asks. He's still shaky and sweaty.

"It's about half one in the morning. The other guys left a while ago. My car broke down so I decided to crash here. I was just doing some writing. I didn't want to wake you, but you started calling out." He explains, handing Dan a glass of water.

Dan takes a sip and puts the glass down shakily.

"Are you okay?" Woody asks carefully.

"Yeah... just... bad dream." Dan replies.

Woody nods sympathetically, and doesn't pry. Dan's glad. He doesn't want the other guys to know. Maybe some day he'll tell them, but not today.

It wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare. A true one. That letter triggered so many memories, but still Dan promised himself he would read every single one of those letters, no matter what.

"You know where all the stuff is mate, you can sleep on the couch. I'm gonna go read some. Night." Dan forces a smile at Woody, and goes into his own bedroom. There, he picks up the next letter, and begins to read.

Hey Dan. How are you? It's been five days since I last wrote. The last few days have been quite good actually. I thought my friends didn't really care about my cutting problems, but as it turns out they do. Well, at least one of them does. The four of us were walking yesterday, and Elsa grabs me by the arm and drags me away.

"When was the last time you cut Beth?" She had asked.

"Three weeks," I replied quietly.

She looked at me for a moment and then hugged me, and told me she was proud of me. She's a few months younger than me, but she's one of the most mature and kind people I know.

I also talked to Carter a little bit. We're not really the closest friends, but he's just a great person to talk to. Really light-hearted and funny.

School is same old same old. Only four months left, and then I'm out of this place forever! I got a B+ in English, and a decent score on my maths exam, which was a nice surprise.

I started crying during History a couple days ago, and my teacher (who's really nice and quite young) asked me to stay back after class. We talked for a long time. Not about my problems, just in general. After a bit she asked me "Are you okay Beth? You've changed a lot since last year, is something going on? You've lost weight, you look tired a like you could break down at any given moment."

I told her "I've been feeling so sad recently. Sad and sick. I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can't focus on anything. I cry myself to sleep every night."

She looked at me with sympathy. I hate it when people do that, so I looked away.

"Beth... What do you do to deal with the pain?" She asked, sounding cautious, as though she was treading on thin ice.

"I... I... You know? Like." I couldn't bring myself to say it, but I think she assumed the worst, so tomorrow I've got a meeting with the school psychologist. I'll tell you how that goes.

Can I ask you something Dan? Have you ever been so sad you can't do anything, but you don't know why?

"Yeah..." Dan thinks bitterly. "I have, actually."

I don't think you would have. You have such a perfect life. You're a talented musician, with amazing band mates, adoring fans and stunningly good looks.

How wrong you are, Beth.

Now I probably just sound like a creepy fan! I'm not, promise. Anyway, that's how I've been feeling. I just constantly want to cry. Do nothing but cry and listen to music. It's hard, you know? Because I have to get on with life. I can't live in bed. I can't not eat because my parents will notice somehing's wrong. Food makes me sick. Physically sick. My dad thinks it's just a 24 hour bug that's lasted too long. Mum thinks it's PMS. Sorry... too much information haha.

I hate myself, I hate the way I look, how I walk, speak, stand, laugh. I hate how I cry. I hate how the only part of myself that I don't hate are my scars. I hate it. This probably sounds stupid, but I'm somewhat proud of my scars. Not the fresh cuts. They're disgusting. I'm proud of my old scars. They're like battle scars. A constant reminder of what I go through on a daily basis. They're what keeps me grounded. If I didn't have those cuts, I wouldn't have anything, because I'd probably be dead. They help me deal with the pain. Every time I cut, I find the willpower to stop, before it goes too far. That's the battle I'm fighting. That's the battle I'm winning. That's why I'm proud of my scars.

I have to go now. I'm meeting Carter and Cassie at the movies. It's the first time I've been out in months.

Bye Dan! xoxo