Kidnapped By Stampy

Depression

Sqaishey's POV

I sit waiting in the hospital in what has become my regular seat. For the last two months, Stampy has been in a coma, and I visit him everyday. I posted a video to his channel explaining what happened, and one to my own telling them why I won't be posting for a while. 

Each day, before and after I visit him, I sit in this hard plastic waiting room chair, trying to calm myself down enough before moving. You would think I wouldn't still be crying or desperate to get him back, but I am. I love him more than anything, and I just want him to wake up. Squid and Amy visit once a week. I feel like they would have visited more if this had happened before he met me, or before I was living with them. I feel like I have become a wedge between them, that they aren't as close as they were before I came. I almost feel as though they resent me for being with Stampy. I keep letting myself feel these awful thoughts, and it makes me feel worse about the situation. 

One day after visiting Stampy with still no change, I head back to the house. I walk slower than I normally do, taking time to think. Maybe they would be happier if I were gone, and maybe Stampy won't wake up. What reason do I have to be here? I reach the front door, and take a deep breath before entering the house. I hear the familiar sound of Squid starting his intro in his bedroom, and the sweet singing of Amy while she bakes, but it all seems upsetting to me. It's like the normal happy noises are muffled, and instead I'm getting a distorted echo of its former glory. 

Amy turns around while pulling a batch of cookies out of the oven and offers me a warm smile, but it feels patronizing. Nothing is good, all is dark, and everyone is out to get me. I find myself shrugging off the smile and wandering into the bathroom without thought. I turn on the shower to muffle my tears and moans, not caring if I'm interrupting Squid's recording. I grab my shower bag from behind the sink and start rummaging around it until I find what I am looking for. My razor.   

I pop the blades out of the once useful tool, and grip them tightly in my hand, not caring how much pain it causes. I try to look in the mirror, my tears blurring my face, and I slowly lift the blade to my forearm and rest the cold metal on my skin. I think of all the reasons I deserve it, and a few reasons why I don't as well, but the bad outweighs the good. 

I slowly drag the blade across my arm; One for coming into Stampy's life, One for ruining Amy and Squid's lives, One for wishing for too much, One for who knows why. At this point it is just cuts to relieve the pressure I hadn't realized was there until it was gone. I've never cut before, and I don't know why I did now. It's not like I haven't been upset before. I was crushed when my best friend died of cancer in third grade, but this is something different. Now I'm not just upset, or even pained by what happened. I'm loathing myself, wondering what I could have done to prevent this from happening, and then hating myself more because I realize there was nothing I could have done. 

Over the sound of the shower and the sound of my sobs, I hear a banging on the door, and the rattling of the doorknob. 

"Sqaishey. Open up!" I hear Squid yelling from outside the door. He shouldn't be done recording yet, but maybe I upset him by making noise. 

"No! I want to be alone." I yell back, silently hoping he will leave me alone so he won't see what I have done. By now, the blood from my arm has spilled on the ground and died the gray bath mat. I will have to clean it up, but I don't have the motivation to. 

"Sqaishey. We need to talk about you and Stampy." Those words broke me, and I collapsed to the ground and started bawling even more. Suddenly the door burst open and Squid stares at me sitting on the ground crying. "Sqaishey. . . What are you doing?" He said, sounding almost mad at me, but more worried. He was still standing in the doorway, so I try to use the opportunity to slam the door in Squid's face. 

I kicked the door and tried to hit Squid with it, but he was able to catch it, obviously injuring his fingers in the process. He walks in farther and tries to pick me up, despite all my struggling and kicking. Finally, he grabs me, and I go limp in his arms, not caring to struggle anymore. He carries me out to the couch, and sets me down where I just lay there. He runs to the bathroom and grabs all the materials needed to take care of my arm. 

He comes back down, and seems upset when he sees I haven't moved, but why would I? I wasn't trying to kill myself, I just didn't want to deal with the stress anymore. He sits down next to me as I lay on the couch and sits me up. Amy brings in a cup of tea and a bowl of soup. She presumably knows what happened, but you can see the awkwardness in her eyes. Squid holds the bowl up to my mouth, and forces the broth down my throat. He takes care of me for hours, but he doesn't talk to me. Finally, it gets late enough that he has to go sleep, and he can't take care of me for any longer. He tried to convince Amy to come watch me, or sit on the settee and just be near me, but I insist that I would be fine and she should just go back to sleep. I wander back up to my room with my cold cup of tea and sleep. More like lay in bed and silently weep, but I am in my room safe either way. 

At some time during the night, I hear Squid come into my room and lay down on the bed next to me. He is quiet, and he doesn't do it in a romantic way, its just to keep an eye on me, and I find myself slightly smiling as I drift off to sleep. 

I DIDN'T WANT TO INVOLVE SUICIDE OR CUTTING IN MY BOOK, BUT I REALIZE THAT WHERE I WAS HEADED WITH THE STORY, THERE WAS NOT MANY WAYS THAT I COULD AVOID IT AND SHOW HOW MUCH SQAISHEY CARES. I THINK THE WORDING WAS A BIT OFF, AND IT WAS A PRETTY BAD CHAPTER, AND IM SORRY ABOUT THAT, BUT I HAVE BEEN HAVING TROUBLE WRITING AGAIN, BUT FORCING MYSELF TO WRITE FOR YOU AMAZING FANS. LOVE YOU ALL, AND I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!!!!!!!