Just a boy with scars(A Vic Fuentes fanfic)

The only person who can hurt me is me

Chapter 4

I open the door of my house,greeted by my mum and dad with concerned/disappointed faces sitting at the table in the kitchen.

Shit.I am dead.I hope to God that they don't find out.

I am about to run up the stairs when my mum calls me back.

"Vic can you come in here for a moment?"I sigh and turn around,dropping my bag on the floor whilst entering the kitchen.

"Yes mum?"I say,acting like nothing is right,but obviously they can see my bruises.

"The office called and said you got into a fight,is that true?"She asks whilst looking at my bruises,I take a moment to reply.

"Erm...kinda..."

"This is not your normal you,I don't understand you never come out of your room,you never eat hardly anything,you never have friends over and now getting into fights?Is there something you're not telling us?"

"N-n-no."I stutter,I know my anxiety is getting the better of me.

"Are you okay,like really okay because i'm worried about you,you used to be so friendly and active and sociable,you don't even hang out with Mike anymore."

"I-I'm fine,really mum."I say with the most confident voice I can get.

"You can tell us anything that's happening,are you getting bullied?"My dad asks

"N-no"I say hesitently,"Everything is fine."My parents look at me,half believing what I said."Can I please go now?I have a lot of studying to do."But of course i'm not going to study.

"Okay,bit Vic if there's-"

"Mum everything is alright okay?"I say a little too snappy and I kind of regret it.She doesn't say anything so I turn around and quickly jog up the stairs to my room but bump into Mike.

"Hey Vic,haven't seen you in a while...were you in a fight?"

"Doesn't matter."I say,pushing open the door to my room and locking it with the lock I put onto it.I sit down against the door,my head resting against the hard wood.

This is my sanctuary,my castle where I am the king.This is where all my secrets are kept,hiden away like the blades in my drawer.No one can tell me what to do here.No one can hurt me.The only person who can hurt me is me.At least here I am alone.I like being alone,but I hate being lonely.I rub my eyes.Today has been shit basically.

Yeah there was the beating and all that stuff and the pain and my parents and after school I was insulted by shitsticks about trying to be brave and trying to get more attention by standing up to Aaron.But the truth is I don't want loads of attention,That just makes everything worse for me,them finding out about my cutting was bad enough.I remember when they all found out,not the teachers but the students.Ashtyn,no I can't even say her name,had told everyone,gossiped about it to her friends,who spread it onto their friends and stuff,then the truth spread like a wildfire.I thought at first that some people would actually feel sorry for me but no.They teased.They laughed.They insulted.They called me an attention seeking loser.After that they still continued making my life a living hell.Well guess what,It wouldn't surprise me if I did decide to kill myself and they would just come to my funeral to laugh at my death.I bet they have never been laughed at or beat up or insulted or made fun of or felt like ending their lives just because of the people in it.

Just keep holding on,it will get better...I hope.

I go over to the drawers.Move a few if my t-shirts to find my blades underneath and take one out.

It's just a small sharpener blade,but it is pretty effective.I pull off my hoodey to expose my t-shirt and arms.My arms are littered with new and old cuts,them going across eachother in random directions,there is so many,too many to hide,they remind me of all those bad days,and remind me that my life is still shit.They remimd me that i'm still alive at this moment.

I go into the bathroom attatched to my bedroom and sit on the toilet seat.I close my eyes and feel the blade slice across my skin in a quick movement.No hassle.No difficulty.I don't try to make it neat,I just cut,no second thoughts about it.The pain feels good as it moves through my veins,I open my eyes and see that the cut I intended to do was much deeper than I would have liked.Oh well.It doesn't matter.

My arm is the canvas

The blade is the brush

My blood is the picture

This is my work of art.

After cleaning myself up I sit on my bed,my guitar in hand,my fingers strumming the strings softly.This is like my dailey routine.

Get up

Try to live through another day of hell aka school

Go home

Cut

Play my guitar

Then whatever happens after that I guess.