Murder my Care

Chapter 1

It's the second day of the very limited vacation time that Josh and I get. We arrived around 1:30 yesterday afternoon in Chicago where we will be spending the next week. Mark and Michael were supposed to come, but one of Mark's relatives passed away, so he had to attend the funeral. And Michael's entire family got a stomach virus so he couldn't come, either. Everything was great until Josh and I got into a fight. He was was having a rough day, and I could be nice about it, until he told me I couldn't pick the movie we were going to watch because he didn't want it to be depressing like the rest of my messed up head. Right now I'm sitting on the bathroom floor feeling the most pain I've felt in a long time. Not just pain, though. Emotional, aching pain. Because of that one stupid thing that Josh said that I never thought he would say. I thought he was my best friend. He was my best friend. I look down to my hands where I'm holding a small razor blade. I've never self-harmed before and never understood why anyone would. It doesn't help a situation like this one. Now I do, though, this pain is so unbearable I feel like I need to cut it out, but I deserve more of it. I'm a worthless piece of trash anyways. Too messed up to be fixed. I raise the blade and press it down, closing my eyes and digging my shoulders into the wall as the pain shoots through my limbs. I bite my lower lip to stop a whimper from passing through, I'm about to cut deeper when there's a soft knock on the door. I hear Josh's voice come through.

"Tyler. I know you're mad. I'm really sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have said those things to you. Can I please come in?" He says, his voice breaking at the end.

There's a mixture of anger and sadness and confusion flowing thick through my veins. When I don't respond, the door opens and Josh steps in. When he sees my bleeding wrist and the razor in my hand, he freezes, a look of horror on his face. I try to move to my knees, try to hide what I had done, but it's too late. I'm on my feet now, and he's coming over, reaching out, trying to steady me. I dodge him, slip on my own blood, and smack my head on the toilet. Black splotches are taking over my vision as I lay on the cool tile, slick with my blood.

"Tyler! Tyler, can you hear me?" He asks, carefully tilting my head so I'm facing him. I keep my eyes closed, but groan to answer his question. "That's it. I'm calling an ambulance." Josh says and takes his phone out of his pocket.

"No, Josh. Don't...I-I'm okay." I roll my head out of his hands and slowly sit up. With some help from Josh, I'm finally standing. "See? I'm good. I'll be fine."

"Dude, your eyes are still closed." Josh says, not buying it.

"My head just hurts a little." I open my eyes. Josh is wetting down a cloth in the sink. He wrings it out and nods towards my arm. When I hold it out, he gently takes it and start cleaning the blood off of my hand and forearm, leaving the actual cut for last.

"Did I make you do this?" Josh asks in a shaky voice as he dabs my wrist carefully. I don't reply. I don't want him to know, but it's pretty obvious. "You know I'm sorry, right?"

"Yeah." I say. I can't bear to look at him.

"Promise me you'll never do this again. You say music makes things hurt less. Imagine what people would do if they found out you turned to self-harm rather than music."

"I promise." I whisper. A tear escapes down my cheek as it sets in that I basically betrayed anyone who listens to me. Myself included. And my family. All of those people who pay to come watch me play my music and believe every word I say. I betrayed them all.

Emotion surges through me and the next thing I know I'm crying into Josh's shoulder and I can't stop, I won't stop because I'm a hypocrite and I deserve to be miserable. Josh has a firm grip around me, so I relax a little and let him hold me up, letting out sobs that jolt my body and make me sick. I gag and Josh gets me down to the toilet before too much comes up. With the burning in my stomach and stinging in my throat and eyes, I feel like this is how it should stay forever. It doesn't though. After four or five painful heaves, it's over and there I am, trembling in the arms of my best friend.