Band-Aids On Bruises

Disappear

*Warning! Slightly Graphic!*

[Four Hours Prior]

I hum softly to myself as I walk down the street. It's early, and the sun has finished peeking over the tops of the trees, houses, mountains and other structures around me and is slowly rising in the sky. The bag that I've currently got slung over my shoulder shifts awkwardly and rubs against me causing a slight amount of pain to register with me, but I choose to ignore it and continue to push against the wind blowing.

It's quiet cold out this morning, so I've got my jacket on with the hood pulled up over my head. I don't know why I'm feeling so cheerful, I guess the thought of ending my suffering sooner than later makes me happy. In my bag is everything I need, plus a few other things.

I'm taking my time, I've got no reason to rush. Nobody is looking for me, at least I don't think so. Soon enough, I approach the path that leads off through the field to 'my' park. I wish I could have thought of a more original place for my last moments to be, but I like it here and besides, it's the only private place that I know of.

I smile softly as I observe my surroundings. Flowers are growing on the path, and all the plant life around me is green and healthy. A few birds fly around the field, and I spot a small rabbit hiding in the long grass.

It's a lovely day to die.

I walk into the park and look at the sign. Beth Rodgers died many years ago in this park when she killed herself using poison. Look who's following in your footsteps Beth, except I've got a knife.

I walk to the middle of the park and sit in the grass. I turn my head to check that nobody is here today. Like usual : it's empty.

I push my bag off my shoulder and let it fall to the ground. Slowly, I remove my coat and lay it on the ground, then I place my bag on top of it.

I'm wearing my pastel pink shirt. I find myself staring at the shirt, occasionally feeling it between my fingers. It's my favourite t-shirt. I stare at my now visible arms. The few cuts that I had made before are now exposed due to the fact I removed all the bandages earlier, and the bruises that Tyler had given me are now almost completely gone. They're still there though.

I shiver as the wind runs up my arms and spine. It's much colder now without my jacket. I run a hand through my hair and sigh. I'm not going to have to deal with it for that long...

I pull my bag towards me and unzip it. Once it's open, I pull out the knife and set it next to me. Next, I grab the notes I had written last night and re-read them. I'm happy with what they say, so I put them back into my bag. I don't want them to blow away. Finally, I pull out my phone.

I had looked up online on how to record a message and have it sent a while after it was recorded, so I follow the steps I had memorised. The question remains though, who am I going to send it to?

Fisher.

I record the message for Fisher and set it so the message will be sent four hours from now. That should be more than enough. I then turn off my phone and put it back into my bag.

I pick up the knife that's sitting next to me and run my fingers over the blade.

'Is this what I really want? What about everybody I know? Not just Fisher, my mum, dad, Wasd, Oort, Fisher's parents, all my other friends, family... Have I really had enough time to think it over? I'm just so tired... How will I survive much longer though? Waking up every morning to a panic attack caused by relentless nightmares. Feeling so alone. Not being able to even think about, look at or even trust my best friend. But do i really want to die? Like this?'

I don't even notice I'm crying until I feel a tear drop onto my arm, cold and wet. I shake my head a stare intensely at the blade. 'I'm doing this.'

I press the blade to my skin, pressing hard and watch it dig into my skin. I watch as I drag the knife slowly across my arm, blood seeping out from the wound and painting the grass below me crimson. I make the cut long and deep, while adding the torture of doing it agonisingly slow.

Pain shots through my body. I choke back a scream as I lift the knife from my skin, staring in horror at what I had done to myself.

Doubt began to creep into my mind. 'What am I doing?!'

I stare at my arm for a long time before press the knife back on my skin, right next to the other cut and repeat the process. Each cut I make, I take a lot longer when putting the knife back on my skin, doubt and fear beginning to consume my mind.

After a few more cuts are made, my phone rings. I obviously don't answer it, but after it stops ringing I can hear a muffled message through the fabric of my bag.

The voice I hear makes me want to scream. It's Fisher's.

'He's not supposed to care about me anymore! Why is he calling me! No, no, no!'

I begin to panic as I dig the blade into my skin once again. There's a decent amount of cuts on my arm now, not enough to kill me, but I've still lost a lot of blood. I'm nervous to make any more, and a war begins in my mind.

A few hours pass, and I've only made a couple more gashes on my arm. I don't know what to do now! I thought I knew what I wanted to do, but now... Fisher might still care about me...

Tears pour from my eyes and fall into the cuts, stinging me and causing more pain to flow through my body. I shake my head rapidly as my breath becomes ragged and I begin hyperventilating.

"Do I actually want to die?"

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Chapter done! I don't know why it was kind of happy at the beginning. I guess my mind is more twisted than I thought. It's gonna get better though, don't worry. Sorry it got a bit graphic, but I felt like it was better that way. Also if any of this is unrealistic, keep it to yourself. This is a story, I've done some research but not enough so that everything is going to be perfectly accurate, so deal with it. Bur out. Bye.