he sat down watching the lips of his therapist move as she spoke to his mother. he could already tell the words coming out of her mouth, weren't ones he'd be happy with. he knew it was something disappointing, something he had no say in. but that's the way it always was, and he hated therapy because of that. he hated how his therapist thought she knew everything. she didn't. she didn't know anything.
he didn't say much, and when he did he most definitely didn't say enough. he wasn't one to talk about everything, giving every detail and aspect of a story. he was quiet, observant, and stubborn. three words everyone usually described him as anyway. he rather handle his problems alone, he never truly understood how talking about them would help. i mean, it wouldn't go away after talking about it, so what was the sense? that's just how he seen at least.
"lucas?" the soft voice of his mother called, ringing in his ears and breaking him out of a trance.
"yes mom?" his deep husky voice answers back.
"what were you thinking about? did you take your medication this morning? your therapist said-"
"mom stop it okay? i am fine, i wasn't thinking about anything in particular. i was just dozing off into space."
"okay, i just don't want you too occupied in bad thoughts. i don't want you to-"
"please don't bring it up. i don't want to talk about that." he says, pulling his sleeves to his hoody down further.
his mom noticed his actions, and sighed. immediately deciding to change the topic. "so, your therapist and i were talking and she says it's best if you go to a support group. she gave me this pamphlet with all of the information on it. it's every monday and friday evenings. i think it's reasonable, it's only 2 days out of the week and there will be people there like you that can help."
"people like me? and what do you mean by that mom? what are people like me, like?"
"hun, i didn't mean it like that. i just meant that people that struggle with issues like you are there."
"issues? i don't have any issues. mom, can we please just go home?"
"lucas i am trying okay? i am sorry i may not be wording things the best but i just don't know what to say. i am sorry and i am trying my hardest to see eye to eye with you."
"you'd never see eye to eye with me. no matter how hard you try. you will never understand the fear of living in your own mind, every single day of your life."
lucas' mom watches as he walks off angrily to the car. she was astonished at her son's words. but follows after him nonetheless.
after the long awkward drive they finally arrived to destination, being their small home. it was located at the corner of the block, it looked alone and plain. while the other people had their homes decorated with christmas decor. lucas could care less, he liked to say his house looked as empty as he was. he felt his house described who he was somewhat.
he walked out of the car and unlocked his front door, walking into the house. the door was left ajar so his mother could be able to go in. he had no intentions in talking with her at the moment, so he went straight up to his room slamming his door in the process.
"no one understands." he whispers to himself.
he felt bad, he knew his mother was trying. but the demons in his head, which were his own thoughts, didn't allow him to see that.
he begins to dig his nails into the palm of his hands, feeling frustrated. the thoughts in his head overflowing and making him grow mad. he felt his chest get tight, and his body get weak. the thoughts only seemed to grow wilder.
you're useless.
you're good for nothing.
no one understands you because you're too complicated.
you're not like anyone else, you're worse.
you're stupid.
you can't do anything right.
die.
you're ugly.
you're too skinny.
your body is filled with scars and it's ugly.
just kill yourself already.
he felt his body grow more weak, and collapsed onto his knees. salty teardrops falling down his cheeks, "please." was all that left his chapped lips.
"p-please stop." he began to sob harder, harshly hitting his head as if that'd help the thoughts leave.
but that didn't work, the voices only grew stronger and louder leaving lucas a sobbing mess on the floor.
it left lucas no choice.
he watched the box that was loitered under his black desk along with other junk. he tried to tear his eyes away from the old shoe box, but his eye's were glued to it. "n-no" he mumbled under his breath.
his throat hurt from the nonstop cries, and his eyes stung. he found himself crawling over to the box, and grabbing it. his shaky hands pulling it close to himself. tears fell onto the box, while he let out more sobs. he took off the top and grabbed his long time 'friend.'
it shined brightly amongst all of the other things he had inside the box. it was stained with blood from two days ago, and he just looked down at it. he knew exactly what was about to happen.
he grabbed the metal object, sliding his sleeve up revealing some old and some new wounds and scars on his porcelain skin. he brung the object to his skin, his breath hitched as he draws vertical lines against it. a dark red solution trickling down his skin to the marbled floor.
