99 Steps

Step 24: Don't Hurt Yourself

Jack jumped, dropping the sharper as lightning suddenly struck across the dark sky. Heavy raindrops continued to slap against the roof.

Shakily, he reached down to pick up the half broken pencil sharper. Everything was just a blur, and he was moving based on his actions in previous years. He thought about why he was doing it, but all he could scrimmage up as an answer was blood. Maybe he shouldn't have let it get this far, maybe he should've gone and talked to Mark. It was too late for that though, the thin cold metal was digging through the pale skin on his wrists.

Something ticked as soon as the blood started trickling down the side of his forearm, and it drove him to cut over more healed scars and tattoos. His room was quiet, no music playing from the speakers on top of his dresser. Just the rain and the occasional hiss leaving Jack's lips.

Soon enough, a tingling sensation filled his arms, and he came to his senses.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11...

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...

21 total new cuts. Jack knew that he was going to have to tell Mark, or he was going to find out if he tried to lie about them. The idea of waking Mark up to tell him now crossed his mind, but Jack noted that it was 1:34 AM, and Mark wouldn't wake up. Maybe later on in the morning.

Thunder shook the small cabin type house, inviting Jack outside. Of course, his mind wasn't the clearest. The next thing he knew, Jack was sitting in the wet grass outside, letting the rain wash away all the blood. The cold heavy drops helped dull the pain too.

Being in the dark, cold, wet, and alone; Jack thought about death. He didn't usually believe there was an afterlife, but it was fun to fantasise.

Maybe he would die trying to escape the horrors of earth only to be stuck here eternally. Or possibly he would only know constant pain and suffering as he burned alive in hell for his sins. The idea of going to heaven nearly made him gag, being everything was set up to be so perfect. Sure, he hated his life to the point of wishing for death, but he didn't want everything to be perfect. He liked having Mark, which was just enough to keep him sane.

Maybe, just maybe, killing himself wasn't the best way to deal with his issues. It helped him realize how alive he really was, but it killed him - he was literally dying each time he slit his own skin. Jack blinked a few times, registering that he was outside in the rain. His wrists were up, the blood being washed down onto his black worn out jeans. The oversized sweater he was wearing was soaked, the sleeves pushed to his elbows.

Jack felt so small and weak, he barley even felt like he was strong enough to move back to his bed, so he didn't. He stayed right where he was, sitting in the grass, without shoes on, and watched the rain race to the ground. By the time the sun was rising behind the clouds, rain still falling, Jack was still sitting there.

Inside, Mark went to check on Jack. It was supposed to be crappy all day, so he was going to propose staying in bed and watching movies. Jack, however, wasn't in his bed, or even his room. Mark started to panic and call out his name when he wasn't in the bathroom or living room. He couldn't even call Jack; his phone was on his pillow.

Mark pushed the front door open, looking around for Jack. Nothing. He tried the sliding door downstairs. Jack was sitting against the house, his arms resting on his knees. Purple bags hung under his eyes, and his clothes and hair were soaked. His lips were blue and his teeth chattered.

"Jack, how long have you been out here?" Mark rushed to his side, scooping up Jack's cold frame in his arms.

"Maybe 1... I don't remember." Even his voice sounded cold and tired.

"It's nearly 9! You mean to tell me you've been sitting there for 8 hours?" Jack just nodded, not bringing up the fact it was storming for almost 7 of them. Mark didn't say anything as he carried Jack up the stairs, and set him on the toilet in the bathroom. He turned the hot water on, and closed the drain.

Jack looked straight ahead at Mark's bed through the open door, mostly zoning out. Mark grabbed the hem of his thin sweater, pulling it up, Jack lifted his arms up, the now uncomfortable material gone from his skin. A few scars showed on his stomach, but Mark had the decency to over look them.

"I'm going to make you some tea. Why don't you finish getting undressed, then get in the bath. Okay?" Jack nodded, slowly standing up as Mark pulled the door shut behind him. Jack listened, tugging at his jeans, wincing at the pain it caused in his arms. He realized that Mark hadn't said anything about them yet, if he noticed them.

Mark came back in after Jack was submerged in the warm water and he had pulled the curtain shut.

"Look, I know it's a big thing, and I shouldn't just tell you to stop - like you could just stop and be better at the snap of your fingers, but don't hurt yourself anymore. I really hate seeing when you do this to yourself." Mark was sitting on the toilet lid, holding the cup of tea for Jack. He looked at Jack through the few inches between the curtain and the wall. Jack wasn't really paying attention though, his arms burned and the water was like being wrapped in blankets. After being in the rainstorm all night and not sleeping properly for a few days, Jack was tired.

"Do you want this now?" Mark lifted the cup off his leg slightly, and he noticed that Jack was on the verge of falling asleep, so he just set it on the edge of the tub. Instead of leaving and doing something else, he decided to stay with his boyfriend and let him nap.