Depressed and in love.

Part 13

Trigger warning!

Marks POV
I wake up, to Jack right beside me. His head resting on my chest, and my arm protectively around him. I smile at him, and carefully get up, being sure not to wake Jack, and pull on my shirt, and slip on some shorts. As I reach the door, I hear him moving around. I look back at him, and smile. He's so cute when he sleeps. I wonder what he's dreaming..

Jacks POV (dream)
"Jack.."

"No! Leave me the fuck alone!"

"Jacky.."

"No! I'm not listening lalalalala!"

"Jack..."

"LALALALALALALALALA!!" I hear him right behind me now.

"Jack." I spin around, and there he is. Antisepticeye. "Come on Jack. You knew I'd come back."

"lala..la.."

"Jack. Go back to your old ways. Mark doesn't care about you. He's faking. He's not real. But you know who is real? Me." He disappears, and now he's behind me again. "Oh poor, innocent Jack. So naive. So.. what's the word? Cute." I spin around, and he disappears again. "Remember the old days Jack? Remember the red.. remember the great pain? Of a cold blade cutting your waist. The pleasure.." my waist burned with the painful desire.

"I remember.." I say briefly, leaving it open ended.

"I know you remember. Mark is just a substitute. Just like everyone else, he doesn't. care." And with that, he disappeared once more. Not returning.

"I remember. I remember the pain. I remember the past. I will forget Mark. I remember the blade." I close my eyes, and feel myself be taken from the cold, and warmed up. I open my eyes, and see the pillow that I've dug my face into. I groan, and remember my dream. My leg burns. I reach for my waist, and feel scars from over the years. I flip the covers off me, and reach for my pants, throwing on my shirt, and stepping in my pants, not bothering to button or zip. I head straight for the bathroom, and reach for my razor, quickly shutting and locking the door. I hear Mark walk past, slowing down at the door, but speeding up when he passes the door. I take out the 3 shiny blades, and I start cutting a gash in my leg, and I grip the blade, forgetting the beginning pain. But it soon feels good. I cut a few more times, then I hear a knock at the door.

"H-hey babe. Whatcha doing, you've been in there for a while.." I can hear the edge in his voice.

"Dinner didn't set well last night.." I quickly say.

"We didn't have dinner last night. We just fell asleep."
I kick myself, and quickly grab an alcohol wipe. "Jack, what are you doing?"

"My stomach just isn't agreeing with me." I spit out. And at this point, I'm stupid enough, to wipe away the blood, with an alcohol wipe. And I'll tell you this, it hurts! I wipe the blood, and I suck in hard, biting my knuckles. I hear footsteps run away, then quickly back. I hear the doorknob jimmy, then it opens. With Mark on the other side, holding a key. He drops the key, and looks at me.

"Jack.." he quickly grabbed the razors, then the alcohol wipes, before I could object. He grabbed the bandage wrap, and wrapped it around my waist and leg, where the blood drips. He gently grabs my arm, and leads me out of the bathroom. I remember what Anti said, I remember the pain I just went through, I remember how Mark pulled my away from my pleasure. Anti was right. Mark's just another one of them. "Jack, why?" He says, calmness melting in his words, with urgency touching his sentence. I refuse to let him take me over again. I keep my mouth shut, and start scratching the skin above my knee. He grabs my hand, and holds it in his, putting his other on top of my hand, warming my hand that I feel dried blood on. "Jack, you have to answer me." His voice deep, and mesmerizing. "Why would you cut yourself." Stay strong. I sit here, not talking to Mark, and gently brushing over my new cuts. "Please babe.. tell me what's wrong? Why aren't you talking to me? Did I do something wrong?" His face drops. "It was me, wasn't it? It was my fault." I see tears form in his eyes, threatening to spill over. "It's my fault." Now the tears do pour over, and he drops his head into his hand, and he starts crying. I put my hand on his shoulder.