The Bad Boy

Chapter 3

I just stare at the open letter sitting in my hands. The paper is covered in writing, in my feelings. I don't know how long I stare at the paper for.

Deciding to focus on the writing, I start to read what I had written.

26/10/17
Dear whoever,
Whenever I am asked how I am, I reply with what any other person would reply with. I say 'I'm fine.' But am I really fine? No. I'm not. I'm just waiting for that one person to finally figure out that maybe I'm not fine. I'm just waiting for that one person to figure out how I'm feeling. No two people are the same, meaning no two people share the same form of depression.
To me, it's like I'm trapped. It's like I'm trapped by my inner demons in a minuscule room with no way out. It's cold and it's scary. I have nobody. I have nobody to talk to, nobody to comfort me, no body to ask me if I'm okay and not take 'I'm fine' or 'I'm ok' as an acceptable answer. But then I come back to reality just to realise that everyone is around me, everyone is looking at me, judging me.
Nobody wants to feel this way. Everyone feels down every now and then, and I can understand them saying that. But saying that they are depressed to then be totally ok the next day is not fine. They don't know what depression feels like. They might have heard people taking about depression or seen it on the TV but in reality, they don't actually know what it feels like to be constantly feeling like this. Feeling like your worthless, like no one likes you, like your a piece of gum stuck on the bottom of someone's shoe. It sucks and quite frankly, it's a lot worse than people think it is. It's a lot worse than people who have depression say it is. I don't want to tell someone that I have depression. Why? Because they all ask or say the same thing. I've had people say that they feel sorry for me, some people saying that I should just kill myself already and I've had some people just look at me, turn around and walk away from me. It hurts to see that happen to others, but it's even worse when it's you they are walking away from. I've lost all my friends from this. I literally have no one left. No one wants to talk to me any more and that fact alone just makes me want to cry. All I want in life, is to, like I said, find someone who will like me for me, who won't care that I suffer from depression, that I suffer from self-harm. If I do meet someone who wants to talk to me, maybe I won't tell them due to fear of them rejecting me. Any yes, I know that's horrible, but what else am I meant to do. Living life with no friends sucks. It ducking sucks and I don't want to have any part of this feeling anymore.
I'm going to stop there. There are too many tears coming out of my eyes that they're are blurring my vision.

I look down at the letter sitting in my hands. There are old tear stains, as well as new tear stains. I fold the letter back up, put it away safely in my box and slide it back under my bed.

All the feelings I had then are the same as the ones I have now. Nothing had changed. Well, that's a partial lie. I have Coke now. He knows about this depression and self harm problem I have. Did I want him to find out? No, I didn't. But he did. All because of that bitch. If she hadn't have said anything, I might have been able to find the time to tell Cole about my depression and self harm.

Oh well, there isn't anything I can do about it now.

I stand up from my position on the floor and walk across the hall into the bathroom. I turn on the shower and wait for the water to warm up. As I wait, I take off my clothes.

Once the water is warm enough for my liking, I step under the stream of water and just let it heat of the water over take me.

Looking around the shower, I see the razor blade I kept hidden and feel my fingers itch to grab it. I try to fight it off but eventually, the need to cut overcomes me and I grab the blade.

Looking at my left arm, I see all the scars that are scattered there. New ones and old ones. I then look at my right arm. Again, there are scars scattered all over my arms but not as many and there are no new ones.

Well, that's about to change. I grip the blade in my left hand and get ready to cut my skin. The blade glides along my skin creating a fresh cut. This cut is for what Melany did to me. For all the years of torment and for exposing my scars to Cole.

Whenever I cut, I only do one. After I'm satisfied with the size of the cut, I put the razor down and I just stay standing under the water, watching as it turns red from the cut. I slowly sink down to the floor and I wait for the bleeding to stop.

It's been a couple of minutes and the bleeding has finally stopped. I stand up, step out of the shower and grab one of the towels from the bathroom. I dry my body, careful of my new cut. Wrapping the towel around my body, I walk out and into my room where I get dressed ready to get into bed.

With my jogging bottoms on and an oversized top, I get under my covers, get comfy and just think about what has happened today. To think that the day started off amazing just to have it end horrible had tears streaming down my cheeks.

I don't know how long I lay here crying but eventually, I fall asleep with tears still streaming down my face.
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AN
I'm sorry if this chapter is sad. Yes I cried while writing it but let hope things for Riley start to look up. But who knows.