Help~Sincerely Three (a Dear Evan Hansen fanfiction) COMPLETED

Chapter One- Help

When Cynthia and Larry- my mother and father- were finally informed by my therapist that I, indeed, have clinical depression, they decided that I needed more intense, real help. 

It wasn't until they found out that I'd been cutting until they finally decided to get it for me.

Wait, sorry. You're probably pretty confused. Okay, let's take it back a bit, shall we?

When a biological female and a biological male become attracted enough toward each other that they decide to reproduce- Not that far back? Fine, okay. 

My name is Connor Murphy. 

I was a happy kid, I guess. My little sister, Zoe and I, we used to get along really well. We were practically best friends. A lot of people thought that it was weird, how much time we spent together. Usually, siblings aren't stuck together like glue. They hang out with each other when they're forced to, and when they aren't, they're either ignoring each other's existence or at each other's throats. Zoe and I were never like that. Even when we weren't shoved in our room together- before we moved to the place we have now, we shared one- we were always talking, playing games, all of that fun stuff. My mother's friends would admire us for being so well behaved. My father's friends would tell us how lucky we were to have each other. 

Yeah, like that lasted long.

Highschool soon came, like it always does. We grew up; that's just how life works.

Zoe was practically tortured, just for being related to me. Me, that kid in the background with long hair and broken eyes. She got insulted. Yelled at. Judged. Hurt. She told me that it was fine, that she was fine- that it wasn't my fault. 

Yeah, right.

I thought, fuck it. I'd already closed myself off from the rest of the world, closing myself off from all of it wouldn't matter. 

And so, one day, out of the blue, I hit her. I just walked up to her, and for no reason at all, punched her square in the face. I remember that moment like it just happened. I was in so much of a panic that I stopped breathing for a good second. That shocked, hurt look in her eyes was almost unbearable. 

I swore to myself that I would never hurt her like that ever again.

Yes, I fire a nasty remark at her whenever I get the chance, just to make sure that I'm where I'm supposed to be, but never again will I lay a hand on her. 

After that day, she began to tell people that we weren't related. That her last name was just common and that it was a dumb coincidence. She made friends. She moved on.

And now, here I am, not even quarter way through senior year, and I've already tried to take my own life twice. Pathetic, right? When Cynthia found me passed out on the floor the first time around, I was rushed to the hospital. I lived, obviously. After I was discharged, it was straight to therapy for me. I wasn't allowed to leave the living room unless I was either going to school or had to piss. If I had to take a shit, they'd have Zoe stand outside the door. Cynthia couldn't look at me for five minutes without breaking into tears. Larry sat next to me on the couch and watched the news sometimes, and we made awkward small talk. 

I tried again a couple of weeks after house arrest. Nobody found me that time, but I was pretty pissed when I woke up to a throbbing headache. That was when I started cutting. I remember frantically looking around my room for anything sharp. The first thing I found was a pencil sharpener. 

On a sad, pathetic, ugly day, I was feeling my worst. I was genuinely hacking at my arm, not caring if the wounds were neatly lined up or not. I thought nobody was home, so I didn't bother to shut the door.

I was wrong.

Zoe passed by, and obviously, she saw me. She saw the months of scars littering my arms, and she saw the blood oozing from my body. Immediately, she called Cynthia, who rushed home. 

Congratulations, you're up to date. 

I'm now sitting in the backseat of my mother's expensive car, staring at my hands. I have a couple of bags next to me, packed full of clothes without strings. I brought shoes with straps and not laces.

I know exactly what's going to happen.

***
Jajaja I only have a few chapters written so I really shouldn't be posting this but uGh I really want to share it so

People who might want to read this? Maybe?:
LeoValdezFlamingFire
Headphones_Kid