How Did I Ever Love You?

Chapter 17: What Did You Do?!

More touchy subject matter...

England's pov

I felt like my heart stopped... That could not have been what France really said! Right?! I re-read the message over and over but it never changed. All I could ask was why, even if his response didn't tell me much. Regardless, I kept trying to convince him to stop.

England: France please! Don't go down the same road I did!

France: I'm not in your place anyway so why should it matter!? You don't know my life!

England: You're right I don't... But all it will bring is complications! What if your parents see them!?

France: That's why I cut only on my legs and stomach because anything I wear will cover those

I didn't have anything else to say really, I kinda felt like this was my fault to a certain extent. Did he do it because I was?! Deep down I knew what I was doing was bad, but I still did it anyway, but I can't have France cutting himself!

"Why do you even care about him?" I just rubbed my eyes and wrote back "Okay...". I don't know what else to do, I wanted to help, but knowing him, he would never let me. That's just how he is I guess, so eventually we said goodbye to each other and I felt tears immediately burst from my eyes. 

"I think I still love him..."

"No you don't! How could you?!!" I cried harder as I couldn't get my thoughts to shut up. It took longer than it should have, but I fell asleep.

A few months later

No, I wasn't sad all the time, but pretty close to it, but I haven't picked up that razor in forever! I found a better way that doesn't leave visible proof that anything happened, using a rubber band to cut off circulation. It feels uncomfortable but don't I deserve it? I don't even know what I did, but I still feel like I need to be punished for something! I don't know what's wrong with me, but seeing how bad my grades are, doesn't help in the slightest. At school, papers were graded with Ones, twos, threes and fours.  One being the lowest and four being the highest. 

The desired level was three, because that meant there was no reason for me to re-take whatever paper I did. Although I got a lot of twos and was often encouraged to stay after school and work on it. Of course I made excuses also every time, after all, I just wanted to go home... Though homework seemed to be getting worse, I just stare at the paper until something clicks. My parents wonder why I can't seem to get anything right, and I guess they just blame it on my inability to focus well. My dad is a lot more rough with me... I love him very much, and so does he, but when it comes to school, it can get bad... 

God, this one time when I was in the middle of getting undressed, he busted through the door and told me to do my homework. I had already done it, but did the method wrong, so I had to start over. When he starts to raise his voice, I think I screw up more. When he notices that I'm about to start crying, he gets more angry and I try to say I'm fine even though my voice's breaks in all sorts of ways. Only when he leaves the room can I silently cry and scold myself for being so dumb. 

I just want to make everyone proud of me, but that wish gets thrown out the window every damn day. I didn't even care about the grade anymore, I just needed something down on paper. I had other things I wanted to be concerned about anyway, like wondering if I really want to die or not. I mean, think about how easy it would be! Gun to the head, swallowing some pills, jumping off the roof, I would wanna pick a fast and relatively easy way out. Although the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe I don't deserve death. Maybe I deserved to be alive and suffer... For what, I don't know! But it's definitely something!!

"There are other 'cides' you know..." why did I think that...?

"Homicide seems like a better option... Isn't there anyone you want deleted from this world?" No! No! No! No! I've been over this with myself so many times! I could never kill anyone!! Even if I wanted to shoot everyone I saw, I couldn't... I'm not strong enough anyway, and think of the consequences and things to do... Get rid of the evidence, make things clean BUT NOT TOO CLEAN otherwise it would be pretty clear something happened... Not to mention there could have been a whiteness... The whole murder thing sounds like a pain. In one of my many thoughts I randomly remember what France had told me a while ago...

I know he's still doing it... Why? Cause he has no fucking shame telling me about it. I want to talk to him as well, beg him for help with anything. But that's selfish right? Plus it's not like he would listen. He tells me all these stories about how he just barley convinces his parents that they were accidents. I feel like his parents know, but also know that he would never admit it, so maybe they don't confront him about it. I really don't know whether I care about his problems anymore... Though I think it might be wrong of me If I don't...