no reason left { prove me wrong }

iii - i d i o t

Tyler's pillow was wet from tears. His arms and wrists bled a lot, and his hoodie was getting red stains from it. He knew his parents were home by now. He was scared. Oh, he was so scared. He knew his dad would do something to him. He knew it he knew it he knew it.

He couldn't even do anything about it, he was way too weak, and the splitter up skin on his wrists didn't make it better.

The time that night went by very slow, and there was still countless hours 'till sunrise. He didn't know if he could get himself to school the next day. Maybe he should just be fake sick, he thought, but quickly pushed it away.

His dad had the day off. He couldn't stay home, he had to go to school. But was it better there? He didn't even know. They would probably all hate him from the beginning. He wouldn't be surprised if they did. And that was probably for the best, since he would do nothing but disappoint them.

And, he didn't want to feel their pity if they found out about the cutting. He didn't want them to care. He didn't want them to get worried. He didn't want them to be sorry.

He wasn't doing it for attention. It was the only thing keeping him from killing himself, and if he stopped he wouldn't know what to do. Or, he did, but he tried not to think about it.

The brown, warm, mocha eyes still hadn't left Tyler's mind. He didn't really see other parts of the boy, just his eyes. And it was enough to make Tyler melt inside. But what if he went to the same school as him? Tyler didn't want him to.

Yes he did.

No he didn't.

He would just hurt him.

Hurt him hurt him hurt him.

He would see his scars and he would get upset. He didn't want the brown, warm eyes to be upset. He wanted them to shine as beautifully as they did when he saw them.

Did he really just think that?

A couple of hours before sunrise, the brown haired boy eventually fell asleep, with the brown, warm eyes still on his mind. He almost slept peacefully.

Almost.

|-/

"You better get going to school or i will kick your pathetic ass down the stairs"

Tyler woke up to the voice belonging to his angry father. "Yes dad." He mumbled carefully.

"What?" His dad yelled. "Yes, sir. Sorry da- ..sir"

Tyler flinched as his dad smashed his door closed. Tyler whined lowly as he threw on his black skinny jeans along with his mustard-yellow hoodie.

He put his hand in his pockets to hide the scars, and carefully walked down the stairs to his parents sitting at the dinner table. Tyler's mom looked scared, and his dad angry. The boy bit his lower lip, and it began to bleed. "I'm going now.." He said carefully. His mother gave him a tiny smile along with a nod, and hit father just ignored him. He wish his mom would support him more, stand up for him. But her priorities were clear, she didn't want to upset her husband. And Tyler understood, he really did. Why would she protect him?

As Tyler walked to school, he could feel his arms aching. His wrist felt like they were going to fall off by the smallest touch.

But Tyler simply ignored it, he didn't want to be pathetic. And it was his own fault. It was his hands that lead the blade over his veins. It was his blood dripping onto the floor.