Don't Wake Me Up || Septiplier

Chapter Fourteen

[hey guys. please read: soo I've been busy for the past week. Saturday was a parade I was in, and my birthday party. Sunday I hung out with my boyfriend, his brother and my best friend (since my best friend dates my boyfriends brother). Monday was school. Tuesday was school, but I left early for a showing. Wednesday was the funeral. today was school. now I could've updated this book any time, but due to the topics I didn't feel comfortable updating it. as I said, I went to a funeral. it was my cousins, who had took his own life. I'm pretty bummed out by it. so I didn't feel like coming towards this book. I should update every now and then but as of right now, I'm pretty busy. I'm working on choir auditions for the SOFA (school of fine arts) program they're introducing into my school, I'm writing another story between my two choir teachers (that won't get in the way of this story), I'm working on poetry in English. I have a crap ton of crap to do. this weekend is my birthday so I'll try to update as soon as I can on the weekend. I hope you enjoy the chapter. not edited.]

Trigger Warning: Cutting

Mark was in the kitchen while I was getting  ready to take a shower. I pulled out my drawer and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and boxers, only to hear a metallic drop. I peaked down at the floor, already knowing what it was.

My razor.

I hadn't used it since I moved in with Mark, and I never had enough strength to flush it. So, I kept it hidden. Mark would freak if he knew I had it, he would probably take it from me and flush it. I didn't know if I would need it again.

I stared at it. I should. I picked it up and walked into the bathroom, setting my clothes on the counter. I grabbed a towel off the rack and closed the door. After taking my clothes off, I turned the shower on and grabbed my razor.

Stepping into the burning water, I sat on the floor of the tub and stared at my legs, arms, and stomach. I didn't know what to do, where to start. So, I placed my razor on my thigh and with one quick movement, sliced open my skin. It wasn't deep enough.

So, I did it again. And again. And again. Over and over, until the water going down the drain was red.

I didn't really focus on how many cuts I was making, I was in too much of a daze.

Why did I ever stop this? This lovely feeling...

I leaned back against the shower wall, feeling slightly loopy. Maybe I did too much... maybe I did too little. I don't know. I could go for more.

But as soon as I sat up, ready to start once more, the shower curtain was frantically pulled open. I looked up, panicked. Mark. He didn't need to see this. It was supposed to stay hidden.

But sadly, he did. His eyes went wide as he saw all the bloody cuts and gashes that covered my legs, arms, and stomach. The water still ran red, and I was still feeling outside of my head.

"Oh my god, Sean! Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Why? Oh, fuck." Mark picked my somewhat limp body up in his arms and turned the water off. He picked me up out of the tub and grabbed my towel as he rushed into the bedroom. Laying me in his bed, he placed my lower half in the towel before rushing back into the bathroom to grab something.

Why did he care? Nobody should care about me, or my sinful habits. It's my body. Let me make art on it in anyway I please.

He needn't worry, anyway. I'm only dragging him down, he shouldn't care about me. Maybe he doesn't, maybe he's just pretending to one day fail me life everybody else. Everybody fails me eventually.

Maybe he'll beat my to my death one day.

I heard him cussing violently.

Maybe he'll abuse me.

He rushed back into the room with a box. First-aid kit, possibly.

Maybe he'll stab me with the scissors.

He opened the box and rummages through it.

Maybe he'll let me bleed out.

He looked at me, worry in his eyes.

Maybe he'll help me die.

The work turned to black.

Maybe I won't wake up.

Maybe he'll kill me now.

Maybe.

----
I turned over, my arms, legs, and stomach burning as they rubbed against something. My eyes peaked open. I was still on Mark's bed, the lamp was on, despite it being 2am. Mark was sitting in front of the nightstand, staring at me.

Is he mad?

I sat up and removed the blanket from me. I was in a pair of boxers, and that was it. My legs, stomach, and arms, however, were wrapped up neatly in gauze. They were sore, I probably did too much.

"Sean.." Mark said, standing up. He sat on the bed next to me, and he just stared.

"I'm... I'm sorry. Don't be mad, please," I said, not wanting to cry but I couldn't help. "Please, Mark. I didn't mean to do so much. It just seemed helpful at the time. I deserved it, I know. But please, don't be mad or upset with me. I won't be able to handle it. I'm-"

"Sean." He inhaled. "I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed. I wish you would've told me that you were thinking about cutting. I could've helped talk you out of it. I am so sorry you didn't think you could've talked to me." He grabbed my hand. "You were in there for so long. I was worried. I knocked on the door so many time. I nearly broke the door down just by knocking and yelling your name. Thankfully, it was unlocked. I rushed in, moved the curtain, and there you were," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Bloody. So much blood. Your body seemed to be going white from the lack of blood. The water was red. I was terrified, I thought I lost you, but you looks up at me with panicked eyes. It broke me heart. I didn't want to lose you, I don't want to lose you. I thought I did, I was so scared at the thought that you might not of woken up. Sean, you can always talk to me, okay? Remember that, please. I never want to lose you."

He wiped my eyes and I scooted closer to him. He cared too much. So much that it made me never want to do anything bad to myself again. It hurt me seeing how much I hurt him by doing a favour to myself.

I wrapped my arms around him. "I'm sorry."

I felt him shake his head. "Don't apologise."

"Thank you," I whispered."

It was silent for a while. The fan was creaking with every full spin. The bugs outside were creating their own music with the wind. The clock on his wall clicked with every ticking second. His heart beat made a rhythm that carved itself into my mind.

"Don't thank me. Just survive."

"I'll try."