This is not a fairytale-Sandersides

Chapter 23

I could not take this anymore.

As Talyn and Joan finally decided that I had recovered enough for them to go home I had realized I had been wearing a mask every time they came into the room.

Sure, I had opened up to them about a lot of my problems but as they closed the door behind them, the sound echoing through the now so empty room I broke.

As I slid down the smooth wood of the front door, tears magically appearing, I realized how much worse this would be without the constant support of my friend.

This incident had been several days ago.

As both of them went away for the week to visit their family I had to survive a whole week without them being there to be a shoulder to cry on or a pair of ears to listen when my mind got darker.

As you might've guessed, I did not.

Even though Joan had told me whatever I was struggling with looked an awful lot like depression, we had not yet been to a doctor as everytime they said they would make an appointment I would shrug it off, tell them I was doing better or that I was busy that day.

Fact is I did not want them to examine me because I knew there was something wrong. I knew that if they did a few test it would be official, I would have depression or some sort of disorder I did not want to deal with.

The doctor might say I had to much stress, had to lay of the hourlong writing and recording sessions for the weekly videos because it caused me to feel the way I did.

I did not want to stop making videos.

I knew a lot of the fanders wanted me to be healthy. They would tell me to stop working on things till 2 am because it would cause a leak of sleep and I knew they would be willing to wait a little longer if it meant me feeling better about myself but I did not want them to be disappointed for not getting a video every week.

I did not want them to worry about my mental health as a lot of them might be struggling themselves.

So I kept quiet.

But at this very moment. Sitting in my room, the curtains closed and too tired to leave the bed, it had been enough.

My hands were shaking as I grabbed the knife which had always been laying in my cabinet because of a promise I had made my mom so long ago.

My fingers tingling as I touched the cold metal, the plastic case wrapping the bottom half.

I should not be doing this.

No, I definitely should not be doing this, but I seemed to sink into some sort of trance. Watching my hands roll my sleeve up till my underarm was exposed. Watching how they took the knife. Watching how they-

After I saw the blood seeping out of the freshly made cut I panicked.

I threw the knife away from me, afraid I might make another mistake in the form of a thin, straight line across my arm.

I got to my feet and rushed across the room to get myself some bandages and water.

My mouth felt incredibly dry and for some reason, I could not look at the wound I had made as if it was silently judging me for my weakness.

That day I had promised myself to never act in that self-destructing way ever again.

But here I sat, Joan slightly shacking, tears rolling down their sickly pale face as they hold my exposed arms.

Talyn and Terrence were on their way, all kind of horrible things rushing through their heads as Joan had called them to yell 'get to Thomas', it's an emergency!'

The inevitable 'why' had not yet left their lips. Instead, they had just been staring at my wounded arms, the sleeves of my hoodie rolled up, old and new scars painfully visible against my lightly tanned skin.

The door slammed open.

Two pairs of shoes could be heard running through the short hallway and up the stairs.

Both very familiar sounds. One seemed lighter, their heavy boots making up for the weight just a tad bit. The other slightly heavier but with careful steps.

The door flew open. Talyn claps their hands in front of their mouth as if they were representing a scream. Terrence just standing in the doorway as if someone had slapped him across the face and he had not yet realized the pain.

"Why?"

There it was.