Demented

I've Tried, but I Failed

"See you later, Sweetheart," Gerard bidded goodbye, before leaving for his therapy appointment.

"Bye, Gee," Frank smiled.
It had been one month since he stole the knife. He was ready now. He was ready. Yeah?

This would be the end. The end he so desperately wanted. But he was going to wait. He needed to prepare himself.

"I love you Mommy. I love you Dad. I love you MacKenzie. I love you Gerard. I love you Bradley. I love you Aunt Celina. I love you Uncle Adam. I'm sorry. Sorry for everything I've done wrong. For any stupid things I've said. Gee, please do good things. Don't do anything that'll put you back in here, once you get out. Kenzie, be happy. Get married, have kids if you want. You're a great kid. I hope you won't be stressed anymore, Mom and Dad. Bradley, you are so smart. You better get into Princeton." Tears rolled down his face. "I love you all." He sat crying, for around twenty minutes, before stepping down to the floor.

Frank slowly made his way over to the end of the bed. At the suitcase, he kneeled. He took the sharp weapon out. Taking a deep breath, he made his way back to his bed.

Frank took the stolen knife to his right arm. He bit on his blanket, as it slashed through his skin. It took a moment for the blood to appear. He went up a hair. Frank went deeper than before. Going up again, he made this one much, much, deeper and longer.

Tears fell down his face as he moved to the next arm. He made these short, but they didn't lack how far they went into his skin. Blood was pouring out of all of them. He lied on the bed. Feeling miserable and isolated, he cried. He didn't want to make it. And this was the way to end it all. His vision became blurry and blood was soaking the sheets. His breath was uneven and he was shaking.

Mom and Dad won't care. MacKenzie won't care. No one in my family would care. I have no friends. Gerard doesn't love me. It's all an act. But, I love him...

Frank's reality was screwed up. Every single "I love you", "I care", or something similar always brought a doubt in his mind. Simply because no one had ever really cared. But here he was, about to die. He stopped caring and felt the pain. His vision went black.