Putting the Pieces Together

Chapter 3

A/N HIIII I AM BACK AGAIN and this will probably not be long but I don't know we will see. ALSO I am sorry to say but I will not be ever writing smut. I'm not good with mushy stuff. "Wow you sound like a 4 year old" thank you. Anyways, try to enjoy this chapter. I'm so sorry that you are reading this. Hokeyp. WARNING: THIS CHAPTER MAY CONTAIN SUGGESTIVE MATERIAL (not smut omg). It is not meant to offend anyone. Just to let you know. Well all of these chapters contain suggestive material. Like, "is this girl crazy?!" Yes. Yes I am. Okay, nobody cares about random junk. See ya sksbksnsk

(Mitch's POV)

Why wasn't I there? I could've stopped them. Why couldn't I have been out in the hospital instead? I don't even deserve to be in this amazing house. I don't deserve to have amazing friends. Like Jerome. We almost... No. He can't like me. I am worthless. I don't deserve anything. I walked into the bathroom and I looked into the mirror. My eyes were red and tears were still pouring out of me like I was a sprinkler. I glanced down. I noticed by the sink my old friend. I haven't used him since 8th grade. I promised myself I would stop. But... I have to. I deserve pain. I locked the door and grabbed the sharp metal object. I sat down on the floor, and stared at the razor. 'Should I really do this?' I asked myself. 'Yes, you should. You deserve to punish yourself for not saving them. They could be dead for all you know.' It was true. They could be in heaven right now, looking down at me in shame. I lifted up my sleeves, and dug the razor into my skin. It was cold, but the blood was warm. It dripped down my arm and onto the tiled floor. I cut again and again, until I had enough cuts on my arms. There was never enough. I wanted more. I became addicted to the pain. I washed off my wrists, and watched as my blood left my body and fell into the drain, never to be seen by me again. I rinsed off my razor, and started to pack.

(Jerome's POV)

I finished packing, with all of the things I needed. Clothes. Perfect. I walked out of my from and walked down the stairs with my suitcase. Now I had to wait for Mitch. He always took a while with packing, but it's been like 30 minutes. What does he need to pack? God. I climbed up the stairs, and knocked on his door.

"Um Mitch? Are you going to be ready soon, biggums?" I didn't want to yell at him, since all of this stuff was going on. I heard him fumble around a little bit, but he opened the door soon after.

"Uh, yeah.... Sorry, G. I guess I'm just a little stressed out..." He stated, his face pale. I found that odd, but I decided to ignore it. I mean, a lot is happening. He has reasons to be upset.

"Hokeyp. Well let's go then! To Canada!" I tried to make it sound full of joy to brighten his mood. It sadly didn't work, and maybe even made him more upset. 'Gosh Jerome, why are you so bad at being helpful?'

(Mitch's POV)

Jerome knocked on the door, asking me what was taking so long. I painicked, shoving random clothes in my suitcase. I quickly grabbed a pain pill bottle and put my razor in the bottle. Just in case I needed it. We walked downstairs and started heading to the airport. This was going to be a long day...

(A/N) I'm so sorry. I know this one was terrible. Sorry if I offended anyone with the cutting. Cutting is a serious problem. But I love you all and thanks for reading!!! I think I got like 90 reads or something last time I checked on my "book". That's AMAZING!!! You guys are wonderful! I'll try and continue posting as often as I can. Sorry if you didn't want him to cut, but I had no choice. My mind is sick and I'm a psychopath. Not literally (by that I mean I'm not diagnosed yet), But yeah. I LOVE YOU MY TATERTOTS HAR HAR HAR