Self Inflicted

Chapter 10

I felt him relax, and he seemed to kiss me back.

I don't know why I kissed him, I guessed it would make him relax and I was right. Or so I thought.

Suddenly he exploded.

"How dare you?!" I jumped and took a step away as he stood up and stared at me. "You fucking betrayed me in the worst possible way and you think taking advantage of how I feel is okay!?"

I flinched, ducking my head. Suddenly Mike felt 10 foot taller than me instead of a few inches.

"I-I'm sorry.." I stuttered out, and he span around, talking as if we had an audience watching us.

"Oh, he's sorry! That makes everything better!"

I felt myself tear up, scared that I had ruined everything.

Mike looked like he was going to cry too, and his voice cracked as he spoke. "Y'know Billie Joe, when your dad died it put you in a lot of pain. You were lost and sad, but you worked yourself through it. You're strong."

I swallowed hard as he seemed to pace, before he paused. "And I've been in pain too Bill. For longer than you. My whole life, I've never belonged anywhere. You have your family still. I never have, my birth parents couldn't be fucking bothered with me and neither can my adoptive parents. So yeah, I started to fucking hurt myself because feeling something, even pain, is better than not feeling a god damn thing at all!"

I stared at him silently, shivering.

"No one had to know, Billie. This is just how I fucking deal with things. It's how I make myself strong. It's my therapy, and it's my decision! So who the fuck do you think you are, first of all telling the whole fucking world about it and then kissing me and expecting everything to be okay, like you're some kind of fucking God?! Newsflash, you're not. And I don't know why I ever expected anything good from you." He sucked in a breath before spitting out the words I'll never forget. "You're nothing but another pathetic outsider."

Fresh tears prickled in my eyes as I ran back upstairs, to my room. Mike's words burned in my mind, and I knew they'd stick forever. It hurt, it hurt badly.

Nothing made me special. Even though I always thought playing guitar made me a little bit different, I realised I was just another guitar player. Just another kid with green eyes. Just another child without a father.

Just another pathetic outsider.

I wiped the tears off my face and decided I'd take a page out of Mike's book.

Picking a sharpener up, I ran my fingers along it before bashing it off my bedpost, collecting the blade. Without hesitation I ran it along my wrist, wincing. Nothing happened. Anger bubbled inside of me and I used quick, rapid movements with the razor. All of a sudden, they all seemed to start bleeding all at once. My vision blurred as I looked at one in particular. It looked deep, really deep. And the blood wouldn't stop.

I knew I needed help, and I also knew I regretted what I had done. I didn't get how this was Mike's therapy.

I sniffed as I realised the only person that could help me, hated me.