Never Love An English

Two Thirds

Be Dirk:

I feel so happy for Rose. She finally got to go home. Although, I am sad that I can not write her letters anymore. I lay down in bed, Lil Sebastian in my arms. I squeeze the orange bunny tightly. Trying to stop the tears. I hate to admit it, but needles are one of the only things that I truly hate. The doctor pricked me again, a new pouch of blood being added into my system. It calmed me down as he left. The other needle producing pain relieving medication.

I woke up from a nap, looking around. I wonder what it's like for the other people here. Do they have food brought to them like I do? Or is there a lunch room? Do they have cozy blood stained sheets? I really wonder these things. I guess I'll have to wait to know.

It's been about two weeks since I got here, they put me in my empty room for the first time today. A calendar with an erasable crayon on the little shelf beneath it.

Some sort of bell rang, and my door unlocked. I opened the door, a guard met me outside. He said he's going to lead me to the lunch room.

I find Jake and his friends. Kurloz will never stop creeping me out. Every time I look at him, all I can imagine is blood falling from his lips, screaming, as he sewed his own lips shut. It makes me shiver just thinking about it.

I grab the whatever slop they call lunch, then go back to the table. Kurloz is apparently telling a story about the dance, saying he got to see his brother. From what I'm hearing, his brother is a lunatic. Killed his own parents. What was really odd, is that Kurloz was proud of his brother. I kept listening. Gamzee had stayed at the Makara home when Kurloz was sent off. Their father beat up Gamzee, and their mother defended their father. Gamzee killed them both, and was sent here.

I could never imagine doing that to my parents. But they're long gone. They hate me, Dave's only here because they thought a new child could make up for their mistake. Their mistake known as me...

"So Dirk, why'd you attempt to kill yourself?" Jake asked me.

I thought about it. Tears coming into my eyes. I couldn't. I can't. They can't know what caused me to cut. Tears rolled down my cheeks. "I-i... I can't... I can't t-t-tell... y-you...." I spoke shakily and a stuttering mess. My hands covered my face, why was it such a horrible thing to say? They can see my eyes, they already know a third of my reasons. Those two thirds, I'll never speak of...

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