Chapter 3

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Warning!

This contains self harm and depression. DO NOT READ IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.

Arthur. Slash. Doesn't. Slash. Love. Slash. You. Slash.

Crimson red liquid flowed out of cuts on Alfred's wrists. Self hate had been bubbling inside of him since he was 15, yet Arthur had always been able to keep it under control. Now that Arthur was gone, well, nothing could stop him now. 

It was a sick feeling, inflicting pain upon himself, yet he quite enjoyed it. It distracted him from the torture inside his head. Compared to the searing emotions he was experiencing, these injuries had felt pleasant.  It was sick. HE was sick, but what could he do? This was how he was. Nothing could change that now that Arthur was gone. Nothing.

A/N

This is a very sensitive topic that unfortunately, I and many others have experienced. Cutting yourself never helps. I reached out to others and am now on the way to recovery. DO NOT do this to yourself. 

wow that was grim. i'm gonna watch some vines to cure my self hate. 

bye

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