Sweatshirts in July *Solby*

July 10th

22 days

I did it. I have finally found something remotely sharp, I never knew pick pocketing a nurse would be so easy. Her name was Katrina, she was new. Really pretty and really dumb. She got too close, a pin stuck to her lanyard. Easy to sweet talk while I grabbed the pin. A rookie mistake so to speak. She hasn't even realized. My wrists have been awarded new delicately placed lines of red, they sing and sting with happiness. It has helped quiet the voices, but now that I have this my plan can be set into motion. Soon is coming. Colby has had faith in the wrong boy this whole time. 

The blonde absentmindedly rubbed his wrist as a reread the words he had scrawled into his notebook, an action that Colby certainly picked up on. It was unusual the way the boy tenderly stroked his wrist, curiosity swirling through Colby's brain. He never touched his wrists instead he normally tugged his sweatshirt sleeves down. Now looking at the boy he could almost see the urge of pulling the sleeve up. It was different, and only Colby seemed to sense it, 

 "When will you learn that staring is rude?" Sam joked making Colby blink in surprise. Sam never joked with him, hell he barely even held conversations with the boy, "Sorry Sammy. But are you feeling alright?" Colby questioned as his eyes searched the boy's hoping to understand his change. Sam shrugged as he turned in his white bed to face the chair Colby sat in, "I'm fine Colby. Why do you ask?" Colby too curious to bite back his words stared directly into Sam's light blue eyes and responded, 

 "Well for one you joked with me. You never joke. And well today you were stroking your wrist not pulling at your sleeves. What is going on? Sam, why do you wear sweatshirts all the time?" The last question wasn't meant to escape Colby's lips but it did, hanging in the air. Sam froze unsure of what to say, he didn't realize how observant the brunette really was. He didn't realize he would pick up on the subtle touches while he fantasizes about the pin and what more he could do with it. He didn't even think about his joke before hand, it just popped out easily, just like the days before he got stuck in YT. Cutting his wrists allowed him release. It gave him a stronger taste of that artificial happiness and he was drunk on it. For once his mind was clear and he wasn't focused on the voices. It was just enough for Colby to catch on and Sam didn't know how to hide it, "You really want to know why I wear sweat shirts?" Colby nodded furiously, excitement coursing through his veins, Sam was finally opening up to him, 

"Use your head Colby. I'm here because I want to kill myself. Because I like to harm myself. Why would I want to wear long sleeves all the time. Just take a guess." Sam spoke lightly of the subject but deep down in his eyes Colby could see it, the fire. Sam's longing and addiction to the pain that would never subside. He knew what was beyond the sleeves and wished he never asked. Colby wished he could ignore it just like he had been, he had known what was hidden all a long but refused to except the blatant obvious truth, hoping that maybe Sam was just always cold or had a weird quirk of playing with long sleeves. Blissfully ignorant, that was what Colby was, 

 "I'm so sorry Sam. I should have realized. I'm sorry that you harmed your self, that you thought that was the only way to help. I'm sorry you have to bare your scars but they are your battle wounds. I promise when you are saved they will only be but a gentle reminder that you are strong and brave-" Sam cut him off a glare in his eyes that Colby couldn't quite understand, 

 "Shut up. Everything you have said comes from a text book that I have read my whole life. Harming myself is something that is more than just me thinking I could stop the voices. It was me giving in, like a hunter giving into his instincts and killing for the first time. I loved it, it took away the pain and it made me happy. They aren't something I hide because I'm embarrassed, they are hidden so only my thoughts and myself can enjoy them. They are for me, they are for practice not battle scars. I am anything but strong and brave. I am the boy who wears sweatshirts in July who is giving up and letting the voices win and there is nothing you can do it about it Brock." The two boys sat in silences as Sam calm himself down. He wore the sweatshirt as a reminder that his scars can remain hidden, the day they saw light was the day he was thrown into places like YT. He liked them, he needed them. He didn't enjoy them, but it was like a drug, he was dependent on the pain and it sent him into a high like state of happiness. Sam felt like he was nothing day in and day out, and what he felt was true. He was weak, he gave into the voices, and he slowly became nothing. Colby didn't understand, couldn't. Colby Brock was a normal guy with a normal brain. How could he ever understand a brain like Sam's. 

 Colby sat in the corner silently as Sam scribbled in his notebook deciding that soon would come faster than he planned. He needed to act now or he would loose it. Colby felt dead inside as he watched Sam stroke his scars and write, he loved the blonde boy and he wanted to save him. He felt hopeless knowing that Sam's stubbornness and refusal of help would be the very thing that would kill him, but what did Colby know? He was only a doctors son who seemed to fall for the patient he was suppose to help. 

 Sam wrote, Colby stared, as the world kept on turning. 

A/N: I hope this chapter is okay and makes sense. I have had really bad writers block so hopefully you like it. ~Nightmare