Why Don't We Imagines/Preferences

39. Scars (Warning)

Daniel Seavey

Some people look at me and instantly think that I'm this happy person with a big, bright, kind smile. 

I'm not, the truth is I look in the mirror every morning and practice that same smile. 

Every day after school, I find my razor. 

I cut, and cut until I feel better. 

I fake it all, the laugh, the smile, the hugs. 

All of it. 

I'm a fraud. 

I'm disgusting. 

It's constant. 

The teasing, the pushing. 

The things people call me. 

The things they say. 

'I don't get how Daniel wants you. You're ugly.' 

'Tell me again how you're still alive? You should really just die already.' 

'It's not over until the fat lady sings, hey Y/n do me a favor and sing.' 

The laughs. 

I walk into my house after another day of torture. 

My phone buzzed with a text. 

My Dani: Hey, do you want to hang out?

Me: Yeah, sure. You can come over 

My Dani: Alright, I'll see you soon. I love you

Me: I love you too 

I put my phone on my bed and then sat my backpack down. 

I lay down and put my hands over my face. 

He's the only thing keeping me here. 

But, I'm wearing him down. 

Why is he even still with me? 

He could have so much better. 

I laid there just thinking for what felt like forever. 

I got up slowly and started down the stairs. 

My parents should be at work all day. 

I have time. 

Once I get to the bathroom, I reach into the overhead cabinet and grab my razor. 

I hold the small object in my hand. 

I stare at it for a second before sitting on the toilet. 

You're worthless. 

One cut. 

You're disgusting. 

Two cuts. 

You're ugly. 

Three cuts. 

You're fat. 

Four cuts. 

By the time I'm finished, my whole wrist was bleeding. 

I turn on the water and put my wrist under the cold running water. 

I look in the mirror. 

My cold, almost lifeless eyes stare back at me. 

I shake my head and put a smile on my face.