My secret lover

"And then I found how hard it is to really change, even hell can get comfy once you've settled in."

The opening of hospital for souls by bring me the horizon flooded through my body through my headphones. I turned it up a little louder, hoping to drown our the sounds of my parents fighting downstairs. I pulled up the sleeve of my black v-neck and ran my finger across the fading scars. With a deep breath, I made a quick decision like I have so many other times, and grabbed my phone. Opening up the case, I grasped the blade in between my pointer finger and thumb. I press the edge to my wrist, right below my vein, and dig it in. I gasp, watching it bleed. I do it again below that one, and then again.

6 cuts; that's how many today. Maybe tomorrow there will be more, maybe there will be less. I take a tissue and blot at the blood, until it stops bleeding. I slide the blade back in my phone case and place my phone in the case carefully. Without thinking, I unlock my phone and go to twitter. I press on the new tweet button and enter in the text that I have become way to familiar with.

-6 more-

I attach a picture of them with the tweet and send it. I guess my twitter has become more of a way to keep track of how much I'm cutting. I wrote down when I attempt suicide too, but that's been happening too much to count. I start scrolling through my feed to distract me from the fighting still going on. It consists mostly of bands and their members, and wrestlers. My parents have always told me that wrestling is stupid, fake, and overrated. But as a wrestling fan, I have learned to ignore it. After I'm done scrolling through that, I update it in hopes to have more tweets in my feed.

There is, and I notice a very unfamiliar face in the social media works; the face of dean ambrose' twitter. I read his tweet and favorite it, just because he happens to be my favorite wrestler.

DEAN POV

"Thank you for tweeting." I hear Seth yell from the other room in our hotel room. "You're welcome!" He's always trying to get me to be more active in social media. He made me an Instagram, Twitter, and probably other things I don't know about. I rarely use them, and when I do he gets exited. I look and see how many people are liking and retweeting it. I click on the ones that have been liking it and I scroll through them.

One catches my eye. The picture is of some girl's arms and legs with cuts all over them. I click on the profile and scroll through it, cringing. This poor girl has been cutting herself. I click on the message box and message her.

-please stop doing this to yourself, you're hurting the people who care about you more than you're hurting yourself-

Within a minute, there's a reply.

-I don't have anyone that cares about me-

I sigh sadly, because I know the feeling of having nobody there for you. It's sucks.

-I care about you now-

-how can you care about someone as stupid as me-

-because you seem like a good person-

-you don't know me-

-I would like to-

-why-

-because I don't want to see you doing this to yourself-

-after tonight, you won't even remember me-

-I want to. I want to give you my number-

-ok-

-1-800-Ambrose (A.N. I honestly had no idea what to put for a number) I want you to text or call me whenever you need me-

I wait a few minutes and then I get a text.

From: Magic
Hey. It's magic

From: Dean
Hey

I stay up the rest of the night talking to her. I find our she's a 16 year old girl who lives in New Jersey and her father is alcoholic and hits her and her mom, who is a bitch to her.

MAGIC POV

I walk through the door of my small, one family house, dropping my bag to the floor, and shedding my oversized black hoodie. Just like every other day, I got picked on for most of it and then in the one class I like, I failed a test we had. I feel like crying, but then again, when don't I feel like crying? I grab my phone from the back pocket on my black, skinny jeans and see I have a text. I smile, noticing it was from dean.

From: Dean
Hey, RAW is coming to New Jersey. I was thinking we could meet up

I smile as I read it. I bite the inside of my cheek as I reply

From: magic
I'd love that

I slide my phone back into my pocket and grab an apple from the kitchen, holding it in my mouth and walking up to my room with all my books in my hands. Closing my bedroom door, my phone buzzes. I throw my books onto my bed and slip my phone out, holding it gently in my hands.

From: dean
so, how was your day? :)

I smile sadly at the text.

From: magic
it was ok, would've been better if I had you.

As I hit send, I realize how stupid it sounds and try to get it back. No luck. My phone rings, not buzzes for a text, rings. I slide the little bar and hold it up to my ear. "Hello?" I ask, plopping myself onto my bed. "Hey magic." It's dean.

With a smile on my face, I giggle. "So, what made you wanna call me?" I question, a hint of a smile in my tone. "Well, I figured we could talk." He says, a trace of a smirk in his. We talk until he says he has to go have dinner with Seth and roman. And a few minutes after we hang up, my father comes in, yelling at me for leaving my stuff downstairs. That then leads to him kicking me around for awhile until my mom comes home and they argue.