A/N: Mentions of self harm scars and suicidal thoughts.
I managed to convince George to sneak out and meet me in the park, where I was sitting for about an hour. Admiring the squirrels that ran hurriedly. The leaves that glided down peacefully. The couples in the park some with prams. They were so in love you could tell. George sat next to me taking me off guard. He pulled me close to him putting his arm over my shoulders. I flinch and he asks me what's wrong. I tell him nothing but he pushes the fabric of my shirt that rested on my shoulders and there was another purple 'flower' on my shoulder. He asked me who did this and I tell him you did it. I ask him why did he go after you and he goes that you've hurt me for way too long and that you were ruining my life and us so he had to do something. Tears well up in my eyes and I tell him that you hurt me more than you ever have. I told him that you pushed me into an alley and that you stole my medication. I told him everything you did to me. I couldn't deal with the pain I gave to everyone. The pain I gave myself was worse than the pain I gave to them.
George lifted up my sleeves and ran his fingers along my scars. A constant reminder than I became so mentally battered and numb that I thought I couldn't feel anything and I thought my nerves were dead. The scars which were once opened showed me that I was alive. The scars that were once wounds. The nausea swirled unrestrained in my empty stomach. My head swam with half-formed regrets. My heart felt as if my blood had become tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat. My melancholy mood hung over me like a black cloud, raining my personal sorrow down on me wherever I went. Even the colours of the spring day were drab to me now and the birdsong like so much noise on a child's glockenspiel, grating my nerves. My shaky fingers finally come to stop after running restlessly through my messed up hair. I bite down on my lip trying not to burst into tears. This not going to help, it's not going to change anything.
I wanted to die. There was no way around it. I thought about how I was going to do it. Each way more grotesque than the other. My mind throbbed from the harsh thoughts circling my mind.
He kept me close when I said I didn't want to be here. He comforted me. He shed light on the darkness you caused.
I've become so numb to the point I feel like I can't feel the pen I'm writing with.
But then I do. I do feel it.
I was numb yet feeling everything.
And it hurt more than anything.
