At My Worst ( a Nicholas Matthews story)

Relax Relapse

*I just realized that i should add trigger warnings to some chapters .. And this one is one of them*

Blood. Blood is dripping from my chest. Why am I doing this? I- I need to stop. But it helps. It calms me, relaxes me. I was just about to weeks clean, but i relapsed. I ruined it. Why can't I stop, why does cutting myself feel good. It shouldn't feel good, it hurts, why do i like it.

I grabbed a towel that's conveniently a dark red, wet it and wiped off the blood. I kept bleeding, so put pressure on my self inflicted wounds to try to make it stop. And it worked. All that was left were the four red streaks across my chest. The deep cuts along with the fading old scars. I put my shirt back on, concealing what i had just done. I took the blade and hid it in my backpack.

I need to stop. It's hurting me. I can't get better if I'm the one that's pulling myself down. But then again, i won't get better no matter what i do. Even if i don't self harm, i won't get better. I'm destined to failure and suffering. I looked into the mirror. I need a haircut. I need to cover up my face. I need to lose weight. I need to be taller. God, why did you make me so ugly? I heard a knock on the door.

"Nick?" Lloyd called.

"Yeah"

"Are you stuck in the toilet or something, You've been in there for half an hour." he said.

Oh crap. I don't even have eyeliner on to say i couldn't get it right so i needed time. My hair is messy and dry as usual so there's no excuse there. And there's no way i would take 30 minutes to actually use the restroom. What do I say, though? What if he asks if if i was hurting myself and I can't lie because i'm getting to emotional. What if he looks through my backpack for some reason and finds the razor blade? God I'm over thinking things. Maybe i'll just i say i was changing and my skinny jeans were too tight and i couldn't get them on. No that wouldn't take that long. They're not even that tight.

"Dude?"

"Sorry, um I'll be out in just a sec." i told him. I heard him walk away. That was close. I touched my chest and felt the relieving sting. I need to think of an excuse. I need to stop overthinking things. I need to just fake a smile. I need.. I need help.